Pink in the Night.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

The four Heads of Houses stood at the front of the Great Hall. Along the walls were all the tables, giving years four and up a place to practice ballroom dancing. The other Hogwarts teachers stood against the wall behind the Heads of Houses, only there for supervision. The students themselves were divided on two sides of the room: boys and girls.
"You have got to get a grip!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed, pacing back and forth. "Your behaviour barely rises to the level of the common toadstool! I will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching our school by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons. I will not have it!"

"I already know how to dance," (Y/n) complained to Hermione, Cho, and Marietta. Cho was still very upset with (Y/n) and had a cold shoulder turned to her.

"Now, to dance is to let the body... breath," Professor McGonagall continued. "Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers, longing to be free and take flight. Inside every boy, a lordly lion, prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley," she called. Across the Hall, Ron, Fred, and George jumped out of their skin.

"Yes?" they chorus.

"Ron," Professor McGonagall corrected. "Would you join me, please?" Ron, with a panicked glance at the girls in the Hall, slumped forward reluctantly. "Now, place your right hand on my waist."

"...where?"

"My waist," Professor McGonagall repeated. Ron slowly obliged, resulting in wolf whistles from Fred and George. Ron went to flip them off, but Professor McGonagall caught his hand before he could. "Mr. Filch..." she called for the music to start.

"Miss Granger, Miss (Y/l/n)," Snape drawled. Hermione slapped (Y/n)'s right arm, eliciting a yelp from the girl.

"Ouch, 'Mione!" she hissed. The paper she was holding flew out of her hands and into Snape's. Professor McGonagall was staring disapprovingly at them and Ron was grateful for the distraction.
(Y/n) feigned innocence as Snape's eyes scanned over the paper. Hermione and (Y/n) were writing in Tolkien's Elvish so they knew there was no way he could translate it without prior knowledge of the series. Snape gave them a stink eye and crumped up the paper.

"Since you can find time to pass notes, am I to assume you two already know how to dance?" he asked. Hermione looked down in embarrassment.

"Do I, a Muggle-born, know Muggle-style dancing?" (Y/n) asked patronizingly.

"(Y/n)!" Professor Flitwick scolded. There were several shouts of protest when (Y/n) mentioned dancing being a Muggle thing.

"Oh, come off it. You don't really think wizards are smart enough to come up with everything you know today, do you? The Waltz originates from the German term Walzer— which means to roll or revolve," (Y/n) began matter-of-factly.

"You're going to get yourself killed, (Y/n)," Cho hissed. It was the first sentence she had spoken to (Y/n) in quite some time. (Y/n) simply continued.

"Traces of any sort of sliding or gliding date back to sixteenth-century Europe. The Walzer was especially popular with peasants and lower-class citizens and would—"

"Since you know so much about the waltz, Miss (Y/l/n)," Snape drawled, "I don't suppose you think you can instruct this class, do you?"

"Well, Professor Snape," said (Y/n).

"(Y/n)," Cho and Hermione said nervously.

"I do reckon I can teach this class far better than you can," (Y/n) said. Her hands flew over her mouth as the Great Hall rang with laughter from each and every House. (Y/n) grinned behind her hands as Hermione held onto her arm, trying not to double over from her laughter. 
"I'm not sorry," (Y/n) told Marietta, Cho, and Hermione.