Chapter Text
Christmas 1994 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
HE BRUSHED A SPECK OF IMAGINARY DUST off of his sable dress robes, lurking half-unseen as he watched the couples swirling about the floor. With only a smattering of English at his command, he was not bold enough to approach one of the partnerless giggling girls and ask them for a dance. Like all the other Durmstrang boys, he felt as if he were constantly in the shadow of Viktor Krum, their champion. Of course, there was still the appeal of the dark red uniforms, the strong accents, the foreign mannerisms...but nothing could compete with the eighteen-year-old Quidditch star. Or so he thought. So, for now, he was occasioned to content himself with simply watching the dancers and pretending he was glad that the press of people were not thronging about him; he was more often than not one who kept to himself.
"Excuse me, Meester Dairmstrang." The girl tapped his elbow, laughter in her eyes as he spun to face her. "Why sit here glaring at them when you could join them?" Her heavy French accent was pronounced, marking her as a Beauxbatons delegate, stayed on to support the Delacour girl. Her long golden hair was pinned up with sparkling ornaments, and her dress robes were modest, a deep wine-red that emphasized the slight paleness of her skin.
"I haff no partner," he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes.
"Have you asked anyone?" she teased, though there was a redness now to her face that suggested her own boldness shocked her.
"I haff not." He didn't like that she was making him speak; her clear superiority when it came to English embarrassed him.
"Haven't you haird that it is impolite to leave a lady unattended?" She was blushing furiously now, hinting heavily that she wanted to dance. She smiled shyly, her blue eyes glinting with unsuppressed merriment. "And yet here you are." The more she spoke, the less evident her accent was.
He sighed heavily and extended his hand, feeling his ears warm slightly. "Do you vish to dance?"
"Yes, I do 'vish' to dance." She laughed softly and took his hand, her own small, white, and slender in his. "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude," she added softly as he led her onto the floor. "I don't usually do this kind of thing, you know."
He put his hand on her waist, and hers rested on his shoulder. She was almost equal in height to him; they could look easily into each other's eyes, although he found that this was harder than he might have expected. He couldn't remember seeing her around before; then again, to him, all of the Beauxbatons girls looked vaguely similar.
They danced; and they were well-matched. She was light on her feet, and graceful; he was a masterful leader, and knew the steps perfectly. They wove in and out of the other couples seamlessly, avoiding stepping on toes or having their own stepped on. They did not converse; they simply gazed at each other, both struck by the silence and elegance of the other. Privately, the girl thought that her partner was very handsome; on the other hand, he deemed her the most beautiful girl in the room, a genuine loveliness exuding from her rather than the fluttery, sighing girls he had encountered thus far.
When the last strains of the song faded into the warm air, he did not let her pull away. "Vait," he said softly, furrowing his brow and trying again. "Vv—Wait," he repeated, this time controlling his Bulgarian accent with some success. "Dance vith me again."
She blushed and lowered her eyes, but did not withdraw. "Alright," she conceded quietly, and let him sweep her once more into the crowd. This time, she met his eyes, and the way they shone with genuine delight sent a strange flutter through him.
"Nobody else asked me to dance," she whispered, "and I thank you."
"You're velcome," he managed, this time sensing warmth creeping up the back of his neck. She smiled, and a dimple appeared at the left corner of her mouth. Silence fell between them again, and the girl made no attempt to leave her mysterious partner when, once again, the dance concluded.
"One more?" she pleaded. "I'm leaving tomorrow...My father doesn't want me at Hogwarts anymore."
"Vy not?" He was genuinely perplexed.
"He thinks I am too far away," she admitted, looking away. "He...he is rather...overprotective." She neither elaborated further nor spoke in a way that would invite questioning. He shrugged; she could have her secrets. They did not even know each other's names, and, in all likelihood, they would never meet again.
As they danced for a third and final time, he steered them nearer the doors, wanting to get her away from the heat and noise. Then he took her hand, tugging her into the cooler hall. She tripped a little on her shoes, but giggled and kicked them off, running to keep up with him. They found a secluded nook, ducking behind a curtain and settling on the window seat across from each other.
"It vas much too crowded in there," he explained.
"I agree," she laughed, flushed with exertion.
He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, making her shiver. "Thank you for the dances."
"No, thank you. That was...that was lovely." She went pink again, fiddling with the edge of her robes, her lips slightly parted as her shyness crashed over her. "I—I don't normally just walk up to boys like that; it was nice of you not to laugh at me."
"I vould never laugh at you," he replied in an undertone, and he meant it. "I vas too much a coward to ask a girl to dance."
"You aren't a coward," she answered, still looking at her lap. "You asked me."
He did laugh then, shortly, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I did, I suppose."
She reached out and took his hand. "It's like a fairy tale, isn't it? Only this is real."
"Real," he repeated. "Yes."
Time slowed as he made a ridiculous decision and started leaning towards her. But then she heard something, her head whipping to the side. "I—I have to go," she cried, standing up quickly. "I'm sorry—thank you again—goodbye, Durmstrang."
She was already gone, and he leaned back, befuddled. "Goodbye—Beauxbatons," he murmured.
disclaimer/face claims used:
Rafael Miller as Aleksandar Vasily Petrov
Philippine Urvois as Chloé Marie Martin