Dancing With Boys

Title: Dancing with Boys
Author: ExcentrykeMuse
Fandom(s): Hannibal Extended Universe / Harry Potter Series
Pairings: Hannibal/Harry
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: wizard!Hannibal, past!canon!death, is Hannibal a Cannibal?—you decide!, lovely Fleur Delacour, Ron!bashing, homophobia, scheming Mrs. Weasley
Prompt: Valeria asked for Hannibal/Harry

Dancing with Boys

Harry wanted to get away from all of the giggling girls.  They followed him in packs and asked him to the Yule Ball in multiples.  It was horrible.  Ron now believed him about the Goblet of Fire, at least he said he did, and Hermione was always in the library.

Harry needed to hide, so he took to the grounds despite the cold.

He would have hidden out by the Black Lake but the Durmstrang ship was there and Viktor Krum had taken to swimming in it, which didn’t make any sense.  The Beauxbatons carriage was also on the grounds, with its giant horses.

That left the Forbidden Forest.

He stayed to the thinning trees near the entrance, leaning up against a great oak.

That’s how he first saw the young stag with antlers that were just growing in.

Harry breathed in deeply, remembering his dad’s animagus form.

Putting his hands out to show he was safe, Harry tried to appear as unthreatening as possible.  The stag sniffed in his direction but then disappeared into the forest.

The second time Harry saw the stag, he stood up carefully and walked toward the beautiful animal.  “Shh,” he murmured.  “My dad was a stag,” he promised. 

This caused the stag to look up and stare into Harry’s eyes, a deep crimson red.  He sniffed the air, but then scampered off into the woods.

Continuing for almost a week, Harry brought apples from the Great Hall and left them out for the majestic creature.  “Shh,” he whispered, as he reached out and lightly petted the stag’s nose.  “There now, I won’t hurt you.”  He fed the stag an apple.  “Do you like that?  There’s more where that came from.”  The stag nudged his shoulder and Harry laughed. 

He started to carry around bits of fruits and vegetables in his pocket, nipping out at the end of dinner and leaving peace offerings inside the front row of trees.

It was then that Harry caught a Durmstrang student waiting outside the Great Hall, not even bothering watching the students go in.  He was handsome, with dark hair and eyes so brown they were almost red. 

“What is your name?” he asked Harry charmingly when he tried to walk past him.

Harry startled and looked up.

“Er-Harry Potter.”  He thought everyone knew that.  It was obvious with the Goblet of Fire and with the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

“That’s not your name,” the student insisted.  “That’s what the press calls you.”  He smiled, showing a row of slightly crooked teeth.

Harry found his accent mesmerizing. 

“Er-Harrogate.  I was born in Harrogate.”

“Harrogate,” the student tried out, pronouncing it carefully.  “Hahr-ah-gett.—It suits you.  My name is Hannibal Lecter.”

“You’re with the Durmstrang Students?” Harry asked a little stupidly, given the sultriness of his accent.

“No,” Hannibal refuted.  “I go to Beauxbatons.”

This surprised Harry.  He looked over at the Beauxbatons students in their blue silk uniforms and noticed that Hannibal was wearing red velvet.  It was true, he wasn’t wearing furs, but it wasn’t blue.

Hannibal leaned forward conspiratorially.  “I belong to the Ancient and Noble House of Lecter.  Our colors are red and black.  I’m allowed to dress appropriately.”

This just confused Harry more, but he nodded anyway.  “I didn’t notice you at the welcoming feast.”

“I see I am easy to overlook then,” Hannibal observed, laughing charmingly.

“Er-that’s not what I meant—”

“No, Harrogate,” Hannibal assured, placing his hand over Harry’s, causing an electrical pulse to slip under Harry’s skin.  “I was only teasing.”

Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about being teased.  He didn’t think Hannibal was being malicious, but—

Something shifted in Hannibal’s dark brown eyes.  “I am sorry,” he apologized.  “I am playful when I like someone.”

“Oh,” Harry murmured.  “I don’t see why you would like me.”

Students were rushing past them, and Hannibal carefully took Harry’s arm and led him to the end of the Ravenclaw table where he helped Harry into a seat.  “I don’t see why I wouldn’t.”

“Aren’t you angry that I’m the fourth champion?” he asked a little anxiously as Hannibal began to serve him.

Harry set aside his books and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. 

“I like how you cared for the dragons,” Hannibal answered honestly.  “There are dragons in the wilds of Lithuania where I was born.  Not everyone shows such care for such majestic creatures.”  He paused.  “I feel you would show such care for all of God’s creatures.”

“I take Care of Magical Creatures,” Harry answered, uncertain what else to say.

Hannibal’s eyes lit up as he finished serving himself and sat down across from Harry.  “You are well suited to it.”

“I’m not sure I’m all that good at it.”  He thought of Hagrid’s class and the blast ended skrewts.  No one was all that good at it, not even Hermione.

“But you have the compassion for it—”  Hannibal looked at him probingly for several long moments before turning to his food.  “The Yule Ball has caused a great deal of speculation amongst the Beauxbatons delegation.”

“Oh, it’s horrible,” Harry told him.  “The girls go around in packs.”

This caused Hannibal to laugh.  “I have noticed that.”

“McGonagall says I have to go and open up the dancing.”  He wasn’t entirely sure why he was telling all of this to Hannibal.  To be honest, he had no one else to tell.  “I can’t even dance, even after we had a lesson.”

“I am excellent at dancing,” Hannibal informed him.

“Er—”

“I’d be happy to show you.”

“Do boys dance with other boys?” Harry asked.

“In France they do.”

“I’m not sure they do in England,” Harry told him carefully, not wanting to be culturally insensitive.

Hannibal looked at him thoughtfully.  He got up after a moment and disappeared.  Harry wasn’t entirely certain where he went.  After a couple of minutes of Harry sitting stupidly by himself at the end of the Ravenclaw table, Hannibal returned with a seventh year Hufflepuff.

“Angus,” Hannibal asked personably, “do boys dance with other boys in England?”

“Oh,” this Angus replied.  “I’m going with Stephen in Slytherin.  We’re definitely dancing.”  He nodded at Harry.  “You have nothing to worry about, Potter.  If anyone gives you trouble, send them to Stephen Randalls in Slytherin.  He’ll sort them out right enough.  He can’t stand bigotry.”

Hannibal looked over at Harry.  “I can produce Stephen Randalls if you need corroboration.”

Harry’s ears had gone pink.  “No, no, that’s quite all right.”  He looked between Angus and Hannibal who were now clasping hands with each other.  It must be some sort of secret handshake. 

Hannibal sat back down again and seemed quite pleased with himself.  “So, Harrogate?  Will you let me teach you how to dance with the expectation that we’ll go to the Yule Ball together?”

If it was even possible, Harry’s ears got even pinker.  He looked down at his peas.

Hannibal waited several long minutes before he mentioned quite casually, “You told me in the forest you liked me.”

Harry’s eyes shot up. 

“Something about your father also being a stag.  Is it hereditary?”

Harry’s stomach clenched.  “I haven’t learned how to become an animagus yet.  I was going to ask my godfather to teach me this summer if he had time.”

Hannibal considered.  “You don’t want to learn to become an animagus,” he told Harry carefully.  “You want to tap into your inner spirit animal.  That’s a step beyond an animagus.  You have to use dream magic.”

“Hmm,” Harry murmured into his pumpkin juice.  “Does that take divination?  I don’t get good marks in divination.”

“A type of divination.  My father was a stag.  He began to teach me before he died.  It was the only way I survived the wilds of Lithuania until I could escape to Paris where my uncle lives.”  He looked over at Harry carefully.  “Apples are better dipped in honey.”

“I’ve never had them that way,” Harry admitted carefully.

“Well,” Hannibal decided, reaching down the table and procuring a bowl of honey.  He then proffered a juicy red apple.  “Shall I cut it or shall you?”

Harry laughed. 

Apples indeed tasted better with honey.  They ate the whole apple together and Harry didn’t mind licking his sticky fingers when the bell rang for class, even though he had to go to Double Potions with the Slytherins.

“So, my dear,” Hannibal asked as they got to their feet, “have I passed the test?  Will you go with me?”

“Harry!” Ron shouted, waving at him from the doorway.  “We’ve got to go!  We don’t want Snape taking any more points!”

Glancing at his friend, Harry then looked up at Hannibal, who was a good several inches taller than he was.  “Yeah,” he whispered, smiling to himself as he licked his thumb.  “Yeah, I’ll go with you.”

“Meet me in the forest at dinner,” Hannibal whispered in his ear before Harry rushed off to find Ron and Hermione.

“Who was that?” Ron asked as they rushed off toward the dungeon.  “Why did you eat with him?”

“He’s obviously a Durmstrang student,” Hermione told Ron haughtily as she clutched her books to her chest, “though his uniform is a bit different.  What was his name, Harry?  Was he asking about the school?”

“Probably trying to get pointers for Krum,” Ron grumbled.  “It’s not like you’re not beating him.”

Hermione shot him a pointed look.

“Do either of you have a napkin?  I’m covered in honey,” Harry asked, ignoring their questions.  “It’s rather good but it’s messy.”

“Is that how they eat it in Russia?” Hermione asked.

Paris, probably, Harry thought, but he just hummed.

Hermione charmed a piece of parchment damp with water and Harry washed his hands before he threw it in the bottom of his bag, drying his hands off on his robe, only to see Malfoy waiting in the corridor, looking at him speculatively.

“Eating honey with apples?” he drawled.

Harry stared at him.  Why would Malfoy be paying attention to him?

“Thought so.”

At dinner, Harry slipped into the Great Hall and filled his pockets with pieces of apples and blueberries he scavenged from a fruit salad.  Hermione had her nose in a book and he nearly jumped out of his skin when someone leaned over him and took a piece of cheese from a cheese board.

“We should just take all of this,” Hannibal decided, picking it up.  “No one will miss it.”

“You’re not being very subtle,” Harry accused with a smile.

“Angus can’t keep a secret.  Everyone will know by the end of the week,” Hannibal told him, stealing another piece of cheese.  “Your spread is rather limited.  It’s all cheddar and brie.”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Hannibal grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door.  Instead of turning left toward the main doors, he went right and then up a staircase.

“Where are we going?”

“I found a phonograph,” Hannibal told him with a red gleam to his eye.  “I thought I could start fulfilling my promise and teach you how to dance.  Fleur promised she would come and give her opinion.”

Harry stopped mid step.  “Fleur—Fleur Delacour?”

Hannibal turned with a smile on his face.  “Is there another ‘Fleur’?”

“Ron asked her to the ball and she didn’t even answer him.”

“Hmm,” Hannibal answered, pulling Harry up along the stairs.  “She does have that effect on men.  It’s most unfortunate.  She finds it embarrassing.”  He stopped on the fourth floor and went down a corridor.  “Ah, here it is.”  Pushing a door open, they came into a classroom where all the desks were pushed up against the wall and an old phonograph was sitting on a spindly chair.

He put down the cheeseboard and hoisted himself up on a desk.  “Shall we wait for Fleur?  Have some cheese.”

Harry stared at him.

Hannibal picked up the cheeseboard and held it out.  “You need to eat.”

Hesitantly taking a piece of cheddar and a cracker, Harry chewed it thoughtfully.

Hannibal seemed content to watch him.

There were sounds down the hall and Harry turned to see an elegant Fleur appear, as lovely as ever.  “Ah, Hannibal,” she greeted, coming up to him and kissing him on both cheeks.  “Eez thees heem?”

“Yes, this is Harrogate Potter.”

“Hahr-ah-gaht,” she tried.  “Eengleesh eez so deeficult.”  She shook her head but then kissed Harry on both cheeks, stunning him.  “I see you got cheese.  Trés bon.  Let me see you dance!”

Harry suddenly blushed scarlet.

“You must forgive Harrogate,” Hannibal apologized for him as he got off the desk.  “He’s only danced once before, and I understand that was a crash course.”  He winked at Harry.  Taking out his wand, he waved at the phonograph and a sultry song began to play.

Harry had never heard the tune before.

Hannibal stepped up to him and placed his left hand on Harry’s waist.  “Will you be terribly offended if I lead?”

“Lead?”

“He does not mind,” Fleur answered for him.  She approached them and pressed a hand on Harry’s back, pushing him closer to Hannibal.  She then picked up Harry’s right hand and put it on Hannibal’s shoulder and Hannibal took Harry’s left hand and got in position.  “Eet eez one-two-tree, one-two-tree—”

After much bumping together and Harry learning to laugh at himself, he began to dance around the room with Hannibal while only occasionally looking down at his feet.

“You don’t have to look down,” Hannibal whispered and Harry quickly looked up.  “I won’t let you stumble.”

Hannibal’s eyes were so crimson that Harry couldn’t help but stare.  “Were your eyes always that color?” he murmured, gazing into them.

“Once I made the full transformation,” Hannibal confessed.  “My father’s eyes were a bright red.”

“What were they before?”

“Blue,” Hannibal confessed.  “A very light blue.  I will miss your eyes when you transform.”

Harry paused and Hannibal stopped dancing, taking his cue from Harry.  “I’ll lose my eye color?”

“A ravenstag’s eyes are always red,” Hannibal confessed.  He reached out and touched Harry’s cheek gently.  “It’s like a Veela.  Their eyes are always a blue white.”  He leaned forward and Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, but then the record skipped and Harry came to himself, looking to the side and moving away.

Fleur removed the needle from the vinyl.

“I think that was wonderful progress,” Hannibal complimented.  “Can I walk you back to—wherever it is you are going?”

“Gryffindor Tower,” Harry told him.  “Er-sure.  If Fleur knows how to get back to the carriage.”

She looked up and smiled.  “Do not worry about me,” she told him, touching her nose with her pointer finger.  “I ‘ave places to be.”

Hannibal picked up Harry’s bag for him and walked him to the door, following him out as Harry showed him the way. 

Two corridors away from Gryffindor Tower, they met a crowd of giggling girls, and one of them, the leader, asked Harry to the Yule Ball.  Harry stared at her in horror.

“I’m afraid,” Hannibal broke into the scene, “that Mr. Potter is spoken for.”

“Oh?” the girl asked.  “I hadn’t heard.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have,” Harry answered.  “I just decided today.”  He glanced at Hannibal.  “Spread the word.”  He walked around them and tried to ignore the giggling behind him.

Hannibal caught up with him and slipped his hand in Harry’s.  It was warm and rough from spellwork and Harry smiled to himself. 

They stood outside of the portrait hole until the Fat Lady got fed up with Harry and demanded the password and he was forced to go in. “Tonight,” Hannibal whispered just as Harry was going in, “think about being a ravenstag before you go to sleep so you’re forced to dream of it.”  Harry squeezed his hand and went in.

“You were with him again!” Ron declared.  “Who is he?”

Harry glanced at the tapestry behind him and took out his books.  “His name is Hannibal.”

“Hannibal,” Ron repeated.  “Well, what did Hannibal want?”

“He wanted to teach me how to dance.”

Ron stared at him for a long moment.  “You didn’t let him, of course.”

Harry was silent.

“You didn’t let him, Harry.”

“Fleur Delacour was there,” he answered airily.

“Fleur—why was Fleur Delacour there?” Ron asked despite himself.  He had already turned red and now he was pulling his hair out.

“Angus told me if anyone had a problem with it, I’m to send you to Stephen Randalls in Slytherin.”

“Stephen who in Slytherin?” Ron demanded.  “Harry, you can’t dance with a Durmstrang wizard.  He’s the enemy!  Fred!  Help me!”

Fred had been over at the fireplace with Lee Jordan, and he looked up.  “What’s wrong?”

“Harry was dancing with a Durmstrang student!”

“Beauxbatons,” Harry muttered under his breath, but Ron was too busy shooting steam out of his ears to hear him.

Fred came over her.  “Was she foxy?”

“Er,” Harry answered carefully.  “Are wizards foxy?”

“He’s the enemy!” Ron repeated.  “He’s probably friends with Viktor Krum!”

“Hannibal is a Beauxbatons student and is friends with Fleur Delacour,” Harry told him outright.  “He wears red because he’s a Lecter, which means something.”

If actual steam could have come out of Ron’s ears, he would have been singing like a tea kettle by now.

“I think a wizard can be foxy,” Fred decided after a moment, “if he’s the right kind of wizard.” He leaned forward conspiratorially.  “So, is Hannibal foxy?”

Harry considered for a moment.  “I suppose so.”

Ron shoved his face into a pillow.  “Not helping, Fred!—Harry, you can’t dance with another wizard!”

“Why not?” Fred asked his brother, staring at him hard.  “If this Hannibal—Hannibal?—” (Harry nodded) “wants to dance with Harry—and Harry wants to dance with him” (He looked at Harry and Harry nodded again) “I don’t see what the problem is.”

“You don’t see?  You don’t see what the problem is?” Ron asked, flabbergasted.  “Ginny!” he called and his sister looked up from across the room.  She came over and looked between her brothers and Harry.  “Ginny, you’re a girl.”

“Right on, Ron.”

“Harry needs a date for the Yule Ball.”

“I have a date for the Yule Ball,” Harry explained, flat out telling Ron.  The Common Room went eerily silent.

“A Beauxbatons wizard named Hannibal is not a date for the Yule Ball—”

“If you have a problem with it,” Harry said, find his voice in his indignation, “go see Stephen Randalls in Slytherin.” He rather liked the feel of dancing with Hannibal.  It was comfortable and the feel of his hand in Hannibal’s made him blush. 

“It’s all right for Stephen Randalls, he’s not the Boy-Who-Lived—”

Fred hit Ron on the back of the head.  “That’s the stupidest thing I think you’ve ever said.  It’s all right for Stephen Randalls but not Harry?  He should take a witch but not go with a perfectly respectable wizard?  I’m surprised at you, Ron!  What’s got into you?”

“Mum says—”

“Mum says what?  That it would be lovely if he marries Ginny and becomes a member of the family?  He’s fourteen!  Don’t be ridiculous!—Ginny, go away.  We all know what you think of the idea.”

Harry stared between the three Weasleys.

Ginny meeped, glanced at Harry, and then toddled off to the other side of the Common Room. 

“I—”  Harry closed his mouth.

The portrait hole opened and Hermione walked in with her bag over her shoulder.

“Hermione—” Ron called out but Fred put a hand on his shoulder.

“Harry,” Fred told her when she came over, “has a date for the Yule Ball.  Ron is displeased.”

“You know,” Harry said, standing up, “it’s nobody’s business.  I like Hannibal and he likes me.  It’s not like it’s a marriage proposal.”

Hermione looked a little shocked.  She glanced between Ron and Fred.  “Surely you can’t open the Yule Ball with another wizard—”

Harry groaned and stormed out of the room and out of the portrait hole.  The corridor was empty and he wasn’t entirely certain where to go.  The only place he had to go was the Forbidden Forest but it was nearing bed time.  He guessed he was just going to be sleeping outside that night.

Making his way out of doors, he saw the lights on in the Dumstrang Ship, but he avoided the Black Lake. 

The Forest was cool and quiet and he took the blueberries and apple out of his pocket and set them down next to his oak tree before settling down for the night, pulling his cloak around him.

It grew colder and colder and he had nearly fallen asleep when he felt rather than heard someone near him.  Looking up, he saw the stag with red eyes.

“Hi, Hannibal,” he murmured before settling back into himself. 

The stag nuzzled him and then walked behind a tree.  Hannibal walked out the other side, fully naked.

“You m-must b-b-be freezing!” Harry stammered, blushing heavily.

“Quite the contrary.  Your Scottish winters are quite bracing.”  He took a deep breath and walked over to Harry, his masculinity on full display, before taking a seat next to Harry against the tree.  “Not that I’m not pleased to you, but I thought I had safely tucked you into your bed.”

“Ron is upset I’m not taking a girl to the Yule Ball.  Apparently I’m supposed to marry his sister Ginny.”  He made a face.

Picking up the apple, Hannibal took a bite of it and chewed on it thoughtfully.  “It is the price we pay for being born of great houses.  Men claim us for their daughters and sisters.”

“You’ve had this problem?”

“Many times,” Hannibal agreed, taking another bite of the apple.  “You have the privilege of proving him wrong and doing as you please.”

“I get to dance with you,” Harry breathed.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered.  “They cannot stop you.”  He leaned forward and kissed Harry for the first time. 

Harry felt the familiar sting of electricity between them and pushed into the kiss a little harder.  “What was that?” he asked when he pulled away.

“Magic,” Hannibal answered, touching Harry’s nose with his own in contentment.

At Harry’s continued confusion, Hannibal leaned back and wrapped an arm around Harry.  “Ravenstags mate for life.  We have mated.  I suspected when you told me your father was a stag, but I did not know until I touched your hand.  I’m afraid this means I must move to Scotland to be close to you or you must come back to Paris once the Triwizard Tournament is over.”  He looked over at Harry and his red eyes sparkled.  “We have much to decide on, Harrogate.”

“Let us just stay here tonight,” Harry begged, leaning into Hannibal’s shoulder.  “Too much has happened today.”

“Of course,” Hannibal agreed, pulling him closer.  “You learned to dance after all.”

This brought a smile to Harry’s lips.  Yes, Hannibal had taught him how to dance, and he was going to dance with a boy at the Yule Ball.  Now, all he had to do was figure out why the dragon’s egg screamed every time he opened it.  Perhaps Hannibal would know.  And with that, he closed his eyes and dreamed of becoming a ravenstag.

The End.