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Disclaimer:  The characters and the situations within this fan fiction story are not my property. They are the property of J.K. Rowling.  I'm making no profit from using them in this fanfic.

Like a Dance

"So, Harry, how's your lovelife?"

I'd answered Hermione's question with some inane comment or other while grinning at the face Ron pulled.  But now, riding home on my broom this warm summer evening has made me introspective.

Perhaps it was seeing the baby that made me think about it.  Brand new life and all that, the responsibility of becoming a Godfather.

The kid looks like any other sprog, not noticeably like Ron or Hermione, bald as a billiard ball still, so hair colour's no indication of the Weasley heritage.  The way Ron carries on though, you'd think no other baby had ever been born before, the prat!  It's like he'd invented fatherhood.

Still, I'm pleased for them both, and I have to admit, Ron's finally achieved something none of the other Weasley children have managed yet: a granddaughter for Molly.  She's got four other grandchildren: one each from Bill and George and two from Ginny and Neville, but they're all boys.  Molly and Arthur are acting like all their Christmases have come at once, and the kid (Rose Patricia, Harry, remember her name, your new Goddaughter Rose Patricia Weasley!) is going to be one spoilt little girl if Molly gets her way.

It was while I was holding the baby (very nervously – she's so tiny!) that Hermione sprung her question on me.  She was watching my reaction closely.

Smart girl that Hermione, she knows my relationship is unconventional, to say the least.  Certainly after the war nobody expected Severus and I to get together, least of all me.

I guess you could say that in the years between Dumbledore's death and the defeat of Voldemort, I grew up.  I put aside childish hatreds and moved on.

Of course, if it hadn't been for the information provided by Dumbledore's portrait, backed up by the memories in the Pensieve showing his loyalty was to the Order all along, I'd have been going after Severus too.  In my job as an Auror, I went after so many other Death Eaters after Voldemort's fall.

How to describe our relationship?  It's certainly unusual, there's no great romance or outpourings of love between us.  And after the generally loveless upbringing I had, I wouldn't know how to deal with that anyway; I'd probably get embarrassed and back off.

No, I'd have to say it's more like … a dance.  We revolve around each other, always slightly wary, always watching each other's footwork, but each unwilling to leave the other, even enjoying the maneuverings.

They say opposites attract, and there might be something to that.  We're as unlike as any couple you're ever going to meet.  I know I unsettle Severus in that I'm impulsive, whereas he loves routine.  I like being in the centre of things, but if he had his way, Severus would have as little as possible to do with anybody, the unsociable git.  I wear my emotions on my sleeve, whereas Severus becomes extremely uncomfortable at the mere mention of feelings, and would probably prefer to hex their bollocks off if they show themselves!   I love sport, particularly Quidditch, while Severus is the archetypal nerd; I've known him to come watch Quidditch matches I've played in with my Auror's team at socials, and he'll read a book the whole time, and ask me afterwards who won, as if he's trying to sound polite rather than really interested in the result.

Our careers are wildly different, as well–  Severus is content in his current job as an Unspeakable working at the Ministry, an oddly fitting job given his love of the Dark Arts.  And I now teach young Aurors and curse-breakers, coaching them on how not to get killed, which is kind of ironic when you think how many times I came close to snuffing it during my years of chasing Voldemort.

I know Hermione was probing oh-so-subtly to find out if we still argue as much as we did when we were both at Hogwarts.  Well, the simple answer, and one I'd never tell her, is that yes, we do.  We still snark and snap at each other and generally act like a couple of prats a lot of the time.

It makes it sound like our relationship is totally stuffed, but I know better.  All my life, so many people I've loved have died.  My parents first, then Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, Fred, all gone.  It was only with the greatest of good luck that Ron and Hermione survived the various poisonings and things they've taken due to their friendship with me.

But with Severus, we don't acknowledge anything so complicated as love between us.  There's something there, and I value it more than anything I've ever felt before. The hatred I used to feel for him has turned to respect, however grudging, but it's more than that.  It's unquantifiable - I just feel confident, safer somehow, that he won't suddenly die on me, because of his relationship with me.  Stupid, I know, but I never claimed to be analytical and human feelings are a tangle anyway.

The discovery that he had been my mum's best friend for years started the process for me, I think.  I used to think, in the days after Voldemort died and Severus lay near death in the hospital, recovering from blood loss and Nagini's venom, that he'd been jealous that my mother had married my dad.  But no, he truly was her best friend, with no romantic feelings to complicate his platonic love for her.  And I only found this out as I sat by his bedside while he recovered, even then trying to work out what the hell I was doing at the hospital, why I cared so much that he live when so many of my friends had died.

It was not long after he'd got out of hospital that I admitted to him how confused I felt about my feelings for him.  I mean, I've had girlfriends, or at least, Ginny had been.  And I'd felt attraction to Cho.  But I'd never told anybody how I really felt concerning Cedric, and it was years before I even admitted to myself the dangerous attraction Sirius held for me.  My feelings were so confused anyway, I felt guilty and responsible for his death and that was a convenient cop-out to not examining the emotions any further.  But it was pretty obvious to me that my obsession with Draco Malfoy in sixth year was unusual, to say the least, and I only began to examine it closely and recognize the physical attraction that was lurking there much later.

Severus didn't coddle me.  He just sneered as usual, and said, "So you've had girlfriends.  What do you want, a medal?"

And then he kissed me, followed by the best sex I'd ever had.  See?  Straightforward and uncomplicated, no hidden meanings.  I don't need him to understand my emotions, or talk about how we feel about each other all night, I don't want declarations of undying devotion or gifts of silver
jewellery as a token.  Such things are better left unexamined.  I only need to know that he'll be there for me when I need him, unquestioning.  As he's always been since I was eleven years old, even though, as a headstrong teenager, I was too arrogant to see it.

And so we'll have one of our frequent arguments where we shout ourselves hoarse and call each other every foul thing we can think of, and I'll leave the house and go flying to vent my anger.  And the whole time, all I'll be thinking of is him.  Then after a couple of hours when I've cooled down, I'll
land back by our house and go inside to find him sitting in his armchair, probably reading.

And we won't need to say a word; the understanding is there between us.  I'll sit beside him on the floor, and lay my head in his lap.  And with one long-fingered hand he'll stroke my hair.  And so our dance continues...

The End

Description
Disclaimer:  The characters and the situations within this fan fiction story are not my property. They are the property of J.K. Rowling.  I'm making no profit from using them in this fanfic.

Like a Dance

"So, Harry, how's your lovelife?"

I'd answered Hermione's question with some inane comment or other while grinning at the face Ron pulled.  But now, riding home on my broom this warm summer evening has made me introspective.

Perhaps it was seeing the baby that made me think about it.  Brand new life and all that, the responsibility of becoming a Godfather.

The kid looks like any other sprog, not noticeably like Ron or Hermione, bald as a billiard ball still, so hair colour's no indication of the Weasley heritage.  The way Ron carries on though, you'd think no other baby had ever been born before, the prat!  It's like he'd invented fatherhood.

Still, I'm pleased for them both, and I have to admit, Ron's finally achieved something none of the other Weasley children have managed yet: a granddaughter for Molly.  She's got four other grandchildren: one each from Bill and George and two from Ginny and Neville, but they're all boys.  Molly and Arthur are acting like all their Christmases have come at once, and the kid (Rose Patricia, Harry, remember her name, your new Goddaughter Rose Patricia Weasley!) is going to be one spoilt little girl if Molly gets her way.

It was while I was holding the baby (very nervously – she's so tiny!) that Hermione sprung her question on me.  She was watching my reaction closely.

Smart girl that Hermione, she knows my relationship is unconventional, to say the least.  Certainly after the war nobody expected Severus and I to get together, least of all me.

I guess you could say that in the years between Dumbledore's death and the defeat of Voldemort, I grew up.  I put aside childish hatreds and moved on.

Of course, if it hadn't been for the information provided by Dumbledore's portrait, backed up by the memories in the Pensieve showing his loyalty was to the Order all along, I'd have been going after Severus too.  In my job as an Auror, I went after so many other Death Eaters after Voldemort's fall.

How to describe our relationship?  It's certainly unusual, there's no great romance or outpourings of love between us.  And after the generally loveless upbringing I had, I wouldn't know how to deal with that anyway; I'd probably get embarrassed and back off.

No, I'd have to say it's more like … a dance.  We revolve around each other, always slightly wary, always watching each other's footwork, but each unwilling to leave the other, even enjoying the maneuverings.

They say opposites attract, and there might be something to that.  We're as unlike as any couple you're ever going to meet.  I know I unsettle Severus in that I'm impulsive, whereas he loves routine.  I like being in the centre of things, but if he had his way, Severus would have as little as possible to do with anybody, the unsociable git.  I wear my emotions on my sleeve, whereas Severus becomes extremely uncomfortable at the mere mention of feelings, and would probably prefer to hex their bollocks off if they show themselves!   I love sport, particularly Quidditch, while Severus is the archetypal nerd; I've known him to come watch Quidditch matches I've played in with my Auror's team at socials, and he'll read a book the whole time, and ask me afterwards who won, as if he's trying to sound polite rather than really interested in the result.

Our careers are wildly different, as well–  Severus is content in his current job as an Unspeakable working at the Ministry, an oddly fitting job given his love of the Dark Arts.  And I now teach young Aurors and curse-breakers, coaching them on how not to get killed, which is kind of ironic when you think how many times I came close to snuffing it during my years of chasing Voldemort.

I know Hermione was probing oh-so-subtly to find out if we still argue as much as we did when we were both at Hogwarts.  Well, the simple answer, and one I'd never tell her, is that yes, we do.  We still snark and snap at each other and generally act like a couple of prats a lot of the time.

It makes it sound like our relationship is totally stuffed, but I know better.  All my life, so many people I've loved have died.  My parents first, then Sirius, Dumbledore, Lupin, Moody, Fred, all gone.  It was only with the greatest of good luck that Ron and Hermione survived the various poisonings and things they've taken due to their friendship with me.

But with Severus, we don't acknowledge anything so complicated as love between us.  There's something there, and I value it more than anything I've ever felt before. The hatred I used to feel for him has turned to respect, however grudging, but it's more than that.  It's unquantifiable - I just feel confident, safer somehow, that he won't suddenly die on me, because of his relationship with me.  Stupid, I know, but I never claimed to be analytical and human feelings are a tangle anyway.

The discovery that he had been my mum's best friend for years started the process for me, I think.  I used to think, in the days after Voldemort died and Severus lay near death in the hospital, recovering from blood loss and Nagini's venom, that he'd been jealous that my mother had married my dad.  But no, he truly was her best friend, with no romantic feelings to complicate his platonic love for her.  And I only found this out as I sat by his bedside while he recovered, even then trying to work out what the hell I was doing at the hospital, why I cared so much that he live when so many of my friends had died.

It was not long after he'd got out of hospital that I admitted to him how confused I felt about my feelings for him.  I mean, I've had girlfriends, or at least, Ginny had been.  And I'd felt attraction to Cho.  But I'd never told anybody how I really felt concerning Cedric, and it was years before I even admitted to myself the dangerous attraction Sirius held for me.  My feelings were so confused anyway, I felt guilty and responsible for his death and that was a convenient cop-out to not examining the emotions any further.  But it was pretty obvious to me that my obsession with Draco Malfoy in sixth year was unusual, to say the least, and I only began to examine it closely and recognize the physical attraction that was lurking there much later.

Severus didn't coddle me.  He just sneered as usual, and said, "So you've had girlfriends.  What do you want, a medal?"

And then he kissed me, followed by the best sex I'd ever had.  See?  Straightforward and uncomplicated, no hidden meanings.  I don't need him to understand my emotions, or talk about how we feel about each other all night, I don't want declarations of undying devotion or gifts of silver
jewellery as a token.  Such things are better left unexamined.  I only need to know that he'll be there for me when I need him, unquestioning.  As he's always been since I was eleven years old, even though, as a headstrong teenager, I was too arrogant to see it.

And so we'll have one of our frequent arguments where we shout ourselves hoarse and call each other every foul thing we can think of, and I'll leave the house and go flying to vent my anger.  And the whole time, all I'll be thinking of is him.  Then after a couple of hours when I've cooled down, I'll
land back by our house and go inside to find him sitting in his armchair, probably reading.

And we won't need to say a word; the understanding is there between us.  I'll sit beside him on the floor, and lay my head in his lap.  And with one long-fingered hand he'll stroke my hair.  And so our dance continues...

The End