Dance

Warning: Slash.

Disclaimer: I don't own Cirque du Freak or Harry Potter.

Pairing: Evra Von/Harry

Notes: Harry can control/make fire.

Word Count: 625 (only actual Drabble)

One Drabble a Day Challenge, Date: Friday, October 9th

Dance

Darren smirked at my side, following my gaze to where Harry was dancing with a woman whose name I didn't know (one of the many who was infatuated with with him, and had payed to dance with him at the Cirque's fun raiser), but who I already hated. She looked so happy in his arms as he twirled her in elegant, wide, sweeping circles.

"Are you going to ask him to dance, or what?"

Darren grins, nudging my side repeatedly. I flush a little, dodging another elbow to my side before shooting him a half glare. Darren rolls his eyes at me.

"Really, Evra, you know he'll say yes! Hell, everyone in the Cirque knows he has the biggest crush on you. It's only you who thinks you don't have a chance."

He sounds exasperated, sighing and shaking his head. I turn away with a wince. Why would he have a crush on me? I mean, I knew I was pretty good looking (if the accumulating fan-girls where anything to say), but I didn't think I was good enough to date Harry. And not just in looks, either.

I mean, it wasn't just his beauty that I loved. I loved how he was kind and warm. I loved his accent and how he would blush whenever someone called him gorgeous before denying it shyly, even though it was true. He was gorgeous.

I loved how he would twirl and twist when he performed, his fire dancing around him and lighting up his face just right. I loved how he would cover his mouth when he would yawn, and poke his small, pink tongue out of the side of his mouth when he concentrated on something, I loved his small, cute, pale feet (which I always saw because he preferred to not wear shoes)...I loved, well, everything, really. I loved everything about Harry that made him, him.

I wasn't exactly shy, you know. Not at all, but every time I talked to him—or, well, tried anyway-- I would stutter and stumble, and look like an idiot. And even when I could speak, I always forgot what to say and ended up using the wrong words, or speaking in another language.

Darren thought it was hilarious, but I couldn't be more humiliated. Even my children and ex-wife thought it was funny: Merla, who was friends with Harry, would always giggle when I messed up. She wasn't being mean, I know, she just thought it was funny that I—who is usually confident and always grinning and joking—would blush when ever I saw my crush, forgetting how to speak proper English.

The next thing I know, I'm pulled out of my thoughts as someone shoves me. I briefly see Darren's grinning face before I crash into someone, barely stopping from taking them to the floor as I right myself just in time. Straightening, I open my mouth to apologize before I freeze at the sight: Harry, slightly flushed from dancing, rubbing his head a little from where my chin bumped it, wrapped in my arms.

I can feel my face heat up.

"Kitten! Evra wants to dance with you, is that alright with you?"

Darren smirks. 'Kitten' is the Cirque nick name for Harry because he looks so much like a kitten with his wide emerald eyes and messy ebony hair.

Harry blushes.

"Ye-yeah. I'd love to."

He glances at me shyly and I feel a little more confident, half-smiling and mentally running through every dance step I knew so I wouldn't screw up.

-

We danced for hours. I didn't screw up once.

I'd have to remember to thank Darren...right after I punched him. And right after I finished kissing Harry, of course.