[FIC] Pas de Bas, (SPN/HP), Sam/Hermione/Dean rated M

[dhark-charlotte.livejournal.com]

Title: Pas De Bas
Author: dhark_charlotte
Fandoms: Supernatural/Harry Potter
Rating: M
Warnings: Language, some violence,  Het, character death

** Slightly spoilery for SPN 2.21
Pairings (if applicable): Sam/Hermione/Dean
Character(s) (if applicable): Dean Winchester, Hermione Granger, Sam Winchester, others mentioned.
Summary: An Incubus can completely throw a wrench into a well deserved vacation…

A/N: Pas de bas - a grand movement which is halfway between a step and a leap, and can be taken strictly on the floor (glissé) or with a jump (sauté) and can be done moving toward the front or toward the back.

 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 

 

Ch 1

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It just figured that after surviving Hogwarts for seven years and the final battle just before NEWTS *graduating with honors, thank you very much!!*, she would be accosted by a bloody fucking incubus. She was ON VACATION … DAMMIT.

 

Granted, the opportunity to take a vacation took her almost eight years, but it still counted. She could hear Harry already. Fussing about her need to travel alone.  She was a fully trained Auror, with commendations thank you!  She spent the better part of her life as the third part of a trio! Why in Merlin’s name would she want to spend her only time off with these same people? She knew she should have sent that drink to the tall fellow in the back of the bar instead of talking to the dark haired prat trying to chat her up. In her defense, incubi did put off pheromones to attract their prey, but she was a powerful Witch dammit! 

 

The tall fellow had pretty green eyes and a sweet smile. How did she get from hunting down Death Eaters to narrowly avoiding death by sex? Of course, not having sex since it had already bit her will pretty much have the same effect as having sex with the creature, she just wouldn’t enjoy it. At all. How she managed to get away from it she couldn’t remember. The details of her escape were disturbingly blurry. Hermione knew she should be trying to contact someone for help, but her wand was back in the room. She could hear the recriminations now and she giggled at the thought. Hermione just hoped she was headed in the right direction. The motel was within walking distance, but it was taking longer to walk back than it did to walk to the bar.

 

The bite on her shoulder had begun to throb painfully and the fire rushing through her veins was beginning to take its toll. She wondered briefly if she should be worried that the blood from the wound on her shoulder might leave a scent trail for the creature to follow. If she could just get to her room, she knew the wards would keep it out. Hell, her wards would keep out anything she didn’t want to come in. Professor Flitwick had taught her well. A rock seemed to jump up and catch her toe, causing a stumble that encouraged her descent to the ground. There was rumbling sound approaching from the distance and Hermione snorted at the irony of getting completely soaked before getting under cover.

 

Oh wait… she was already soaked.   The slick feeling in her knickers had become almost unbearable. Knowing the unsatisfied lust incited by the incubus’ bite would most likely burn her from the inside out; she soldiered on and struggled to her feet. She was determined that she wouldn’t allow her mystical poison induced lust force her to violate some poor stranger. Not that most men would turn away an easy lay, but she was no social butterfly and she was fairly certain the lust would spread to the other person whether he had been attracted to her or not. They would go at each other until the poison had worked through her system.

 

Being an unabashed swot had its merits. Reading the contents of every library she had access to since primary school had given her an amazing store of knowledge. Conflicting reports of the succubae and incubi were disappointing but despite the sad lack of information, Hermione knew she was in trouble.

 

Things were beginning to take on a rosy tint and she whimpered as she recognized the parking lot of the motel. Fumbling for her key, she barely made note of the sleek black car that drew alongside her. The rumbling of the engine sent vibrations throughout her body that made her eyes roll up into her head. Instinctively she knew that only a guy would drive a muscle car like that. Her dad had a thing for American muscle cars and since his library was the first of a long succession, she knew everything that he had about them, if not more.

 

Hermione fumbled the key, desperate to get within the room before the driver got out of his car. The sound of the car door opening and a soft masculine voice had her leaning her forehead against the wooden door of her room.

 

“Excuse me, Miss? Do you need help? Oh my god, you’re bleeding.”

 

She waved him off, refusing to look at him. “Please go. I can’t…” he must have moved closer because her senses were suddenly swamped by a clean spicy scent. “Oh Nimue, please, I can’t hold it back.” Her key managed to slide into the lock just as he touched her. Her low moan blended with his startled hiss and he spun her around and pulled her collar aside to look at the bite on her shoulder. She had to look up quite a ways before her eyes made contact with his face and she smiled at the sight of his shaggy brown hair and green eyes. “Oh! It’s you. Should have gone with my first instinct. I know better than to trust a flirt.” She flinched as his fingers brushed her wound. “Oh don’t! Well bollocks, you’ve done it now.”

 

His deep voice was a little shaky as he asked, “Done what exactly? Do you know what it was that bit you… oh shit!”

 

She had managed to regain a little control, but knew it would only be temporary. Hermione watched his pupils widen with lust and as he reached for her she asked, “What’s your name?”

 

“Sam, why?” He leaned in and smelled her hair, his hands rubbing her arms hypnotically.

 

“Because Sam, that was an incubus bite and you touched my blood. I was trying to get into my room before anyone else could be infected.” She took a steadying breath and almost choked as his scent seemed to increase in potency. “If I would have sent you a drink at the bar, would you have talked to me?”

 

Sam blinked, visibly struggling with the lust burning through his blood but he managed a choked, “Yes.”

 

“Did you find me attractive, before, in the bar?”

 

“Yes, why?” His voice came out in a desperate groan and he palmed the back of her head.

 

“Because there’s no sense in both of us suffering and possibly burning to death.”

 

“But, I need to…”

 

She wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself up, his large hand coming up to hold her arse in place as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

 

“You need to fuck me… a lot.”

 

“Oh god yes.”

 

Releasing her hair, he turned the knob and pushed the door open. There was a slight resistance in the doorway.

 

“Come in Sam.”

 

The resistance cleared and he stumbled into the room. The door slammed shut behind them and they fell onto the bed, his large body covering her completely. He kissed her, hard. Devouring her mouth like he needed her more than air. She was giving as good as she got despite her limited experience. His hands, oh sweet Nimue, his hands were everywhere at once and Hermione utterly surrendered to the moment.

 

The skin covering his shoulders was smooth under her fingers and she realized that they were both somehow topless. Her hands skimmed the broad expanse of his chest and she was delighted to discover defined muscles moving solidly under her greedy fingers. Hermione’s explorations found a flat nipple and she flicked it with her thumbnail. He gasped into her mouth before returning the favor. His longer fingers were surprisingly delicate as they strummed her nipples into even harder peaks. Their eyes met and held as his other hand moved relentlessly downward, meeting no resistance as it stroked over her soft stomach. ‘What the hell happened to their clothes?’ She thought before his deft fingers found her center and then thinking was near to impossible.

 

His rational mind in hiatus, Sam watched her closely, learning from every sigh and moan what pleased her most. It was so hard to hold back and satisfy her first. To not just take what his blood was screaming for. He leaned down for another hungry kiss, only to stop a hair’s breath away, his eyes dark with desire. “What’s your name?” He smiled into her eyes as she whimpered, her neediness apparent with every undulation of her hips, seeking his touch. His tongue flicked out across her lip and she shuddered, clutching his shoulders as she tried to pull him closer. He resisted, wanting an answer and he trailed biting kisses down her jaw line to her ear and whispered his question again.

 

“Hermione.” She answered in a breathy sigh and he rewarded her with the thrust of his tongue against hers as a finger plunged deep into her core. The penetration of his long digit was unexpected but not painful and she groaned into his mouth, the sound ending on a hungry note. She undulated against his hand and he reveled in the slide of her heat gripping his finger in pulsing flutters. Sam’s mouth took sucking mouthfuls of her skin, traveling down her throat and ending with half of her beast in his mouth. Hermione wondered briefly if everything about him was just as big, because so far the evidence pointed to a resounding YES.

 

There was a strange noise breaking through the sexual haze and they looked at each other for the answer. The noise sounded again and Sam growled in frustration. With his free hand, he reached over the side of the bed and fumbled in the pocket of his pants, answering with a tense, “Not now Dean. No. Shut up you jerk.” Hermione heard the sound of masculine laughter before Sam disconnected the call. Her curious gaze lingered on the phone and he smiled sheepishly, “My brother. I didn’t call him and…” He had a moment of clarity and said in a shaky voice, “I didn’t, I mean I don’t have anything…” Her walls clamped down on his finger and he closed his eyes, the phone dropping to the floor as he waited in vain for some semblance of control from either of them. The fire in their blood was strident in its demands.

 

All he wanted to do was bury himself in her over and over, all night long. It had actually been the first thing that had flashed through his mind when he first spied her looking at him in the bar. There was something about her that had called to him. Shy smiles were exchanged but then Dean had noticed and made his embarrassment worse by encouraging him to go talk to her. Yes, it had been over a year since Jessie and lately he had been feeling like it might be time to let go and move on. He had been interested in Sarah, but there hadn’t been time to develop that relationship farther than the only kiss they had shared, but this life they led was not conducive to a steady thing and Sam had never been thrilled about one night stands. The lack of emotional connection from having sex with a stranger dulled the experience for him. He never bothered to try and explain it to Dean. His brother already called him Samantha way too often, no need to give him more ammunition.

 

Maybe it was the influence of the incubus and maybe not, but there was a definite connection with Hermione and… oh god, what he wouldn’t give to feel her do that around his dick.

 

Sam’s tongue slid in and out of her mouth, sinfully carnal as he explored the texture of her tongue. With each stroke of his fingers and tongue her legs opened wider and her eager response pushed all other thoughts straight out of the window. Sam’s hips fit perfectly in the V of her legs, nestling his length against her slick center. She ground herself against him, needing the friction but he held her still with one hand. He met her eyes; looking for permission, acceptance… he knew he was forgetting something and fought the compulsion as hard as he could because he did want this to be her choice as well. He and Dean could probably find some other way around it if she was not truly willing.

 

Hermione pulled him back down to her mouth and her legs came up and wrapped around his hips, ankles locking behind his lower back and pressing him in closer. Question answered, he moved back a little, and felt her slick folds part around the questing head of his cock. Sweat beaded along his lip as he strained to push his length inside without hurting her. The swipe of her tongue gathered his sweat and she groaned, “I need to… Oh please Sam…” as her hips moved to accept him.

 

He reared back and tilted her hips up and with one deliberate push; he entered her, sinking deep. She cried out, grabbing at his arms, trying to hold onto something as she fell apart around him. In the back of her mind that never seemed to shut down, Hermione thought things like this only happened in lurid romance novels, not in real life. She didn’t couldn’t imagine that the incubus bite would actually make them feel this way. It wasn’t here with them to influence the situation… Sam leaned back a little farther and as he pulled out, the head of his cock brushed against something inside and then even that back part of her brain, the one that always supplied a running commentary on everything… shut down.

 

Hermione’s expression revealed everything and Sam could see she was on her way again, which was so good because he couldn’t hold on much longer. Her whispered demand of “Harder.” was all the encouragement he needed and he let himself go, slamming down to the hilt before repeating the action over and over. Very quickly, the sensations proved to be overwhelming and he came hard, his head swimming as he tried to avoid crushing her small form beneath his large one.

 

They had but a few minute’s respite before their blood burned again and they answered eagerly.

 

**

 

After the second round, the burning in their blood seemed to ebb and they took advantage of the reprieve. A slightly embarrassed Hermione suggested they take separate showers and even though he really didn’t want her to leave his sight, Sam reluctantly agreed since it was barely big enough to fit his tall frame. She insisted he go first and when she finished, he was dozing in the bed, a fresh sheet pulled up to his waist.

 

The sight of his toned body sent a jolt of want speeding through her again. It was different than the furious need of the incubus induced lust from earlier. Although unfamiliar than anything she had ever experienced before now, it was still insistent as it sped through her.

 

His eyes opened as she approached the bed and he smiled sleepily at her and Hermione’s heart flipped over. It was an unexpected sensation and she decided that for once in her life, she wouldn’t over think things and moved to the end of the bed, her towel dropping to the floor. Sam propped up on his elbows to watch her. By silent agreement they didn’t speak as she pulled the sheet down to reveal the rest of his gorgeous body, her eyes caressing every visible inch. 

 

Hermione crawled up his body and he reveled in the passion in her eyes. She stopped, hovering over his erection and he smiled inwardly at the curiosity warring with the want in her brown gaze. He watched her pull her lower lip between her teeth and worry it with indecision. Sam realized he had been biting his lip in anticipation and smiled at her once more as she met his eyes again.

 

Sam’s smile was an invitation she couldn’t resist and Hermione’s concern melted away. With hands and mouth she explored his body, nipping and stroking and finding his most sensitive places. Even while her tongue explored his mouth, her hands never stopped their investigation, mapping out every dip and rise in the musculature of his body. Every time he reached for her, she pushed his hands away, determined to have her way, wanting to make this an experience neither would forget. Hermione knew she’d need it for when they parted. There was no way she could bring him into the dangers of her world and she knew virtually nothing about his. She shook her head to dispel the negative thoughts and he hissed as her hair brushed his solid length.

 

Dear Merlin, she felt wild, unchained, and gloriously free. So this is what pure undiluted passion felt like. It swept over her, utterly obliterating what was left of the tainted poison burning through her veins. She moved down his body again, dipping her tongue into his navel as she brushed her fingertips over his thighs.

 

He growled low in his throat as she turned her head and blew a warm stream of air across his throbbing head. Hermione turned her attention back to his hip, fascinated by the sharp contrast. A sharp nip to his hipbone caused his whole body to twitch. The following stroke of her tongue had his cock screaming for attention.

 

Movement to her left drew Hermione’s attention and her eyes widened at the sight of Sam stroking himself, a needful moan spilling from his kiss swollen lips. With a soft touch of her hand, his movement stilled and her hand replaced his as she looked into his hazed green eyes. Keeping eye contact, she bent down and enveloped his length, using her tongue as best as she could. Until now Hermione had never been grateful for Lavender and Parvati’s late night sex talks.

 

Sam could barely breathe from the ecstasy she invoked with her fingers and mouth.  He wanted to be buried in her again, but she kept evading his hands, determined to continue this torture. Sam made a final lunge and pulled her off with a moist ‘pop’. He hauled her up his body and devoured her mouth, unmindful of his taste on her tongue. He reversed their positions, crushing her under his weight. Sam’s thrust into her wasn’t gentle; it was fast and powerful, taking him deep. The heat generated was potent but different from before. This was just them, Sam and Hermione. Her hands gripped his hair roughly and she pulled his head back to expose his throat to her lips and teeth as he pounded into her body relentlessly. The tension kept building and soon took them both crashing over the edge and into sleep.

 

---

 

Hermione woke to the sound of the shower running and flinched at the soreness of her body. With a little guilt, she realized this was the best opportunity for her to leave and hurriedly gathered her things. Thank goodness for magical packing. She wished she could stay and talk about things, but left the key on the table per the motel’s instructions and snuck out of the door. She stopped at the sight of a rather attractive man leaning on the fender of the car Sam had driven the night before. There was a vague memory of him in the bar and Hermione assumed that he was probably the brother. She tried to walk passed him but his voice stopped her.

 

“You’re gonna break his heart if you leave without saying goodbye.”

 

She flinched but refused to show how much leaving was hurting her. Hermione looked the man in the eye and asked, “Did you kill it?”

 

He tried to hide the flinch of surprise and failed. “How did…?”

 

Her eyes dropped and with a shaky voice she answered his unspoken question. “Bloody thing bit me. I suppose I have you to thank for my escape? Well, thank you I think.” She rubbed her face with a trembling hand and looked at him again. “I was supposed to be on vacation. I deserved one after… look, my life is too dan… complicated. You…” She trailed off when she caught sight of a protection ward shimmering under the paint of the Impala. It was a quality job and wouldn’t be visible to someone not magically sensitive. It was also not a Wizarding ward. Her sharp gaze shot back to Dean and she really looked at him. All of the signs were there if you took the time to look. Of which she hadn’t had time for last night. The Winchesters were Hunters and knowing how most of them felt about Witches, deserved or not, she decided to leave quickly. Thankful she had already released the warding on the room; she gave Dean a pained smile. “It’s best I go now. The contamination from the incubus is gone, your brother is fine and I’m due to check in with my friends.”

 

“Wait! How did you know about that incubus?”

 

“I know about a lot of things that would surprise you Dean.” She touched the car, adding her power to the wards as a small thanks for their help last night.

 

She backed off as his scowl deepened and walked the few feet to the corner of the building. “I wish things could have been different.”

 

When he heard this, Dean stood up, intending to follow her, but the room door opened and Sam came barreling out, calling her name. There was a loud sound, like an engine backfire. And when they rounded the corner, she was gone.

 

 

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7 months later…

 

Hermione was on the run.

 

Looking back, things had taken a decided turn for the worse about two months ago. Her more than usual mood swings, lack of interest in much of anything had pretty much alienated most of her friends. The few still talking to her were frustrated because she wouldn’t go to St. Mungo’s for a check up. Poppy was out as well. Every time she thought about it a wave of unease would swamp her senses. Not wanting to admit her irrational behavior, she ignored it and ended up having to take a leave of absence due to constant fatigue and the inability to concentrate. Snape had chased her out of his lab, claiming she was a danger to his experiments and to not come back until she had her head straight and stopped mooning over her summer fling. Prat. She didn’t even have Crookshanks for comfort since her parents took him with them when they retired shortly after the final battle. They were living a quietly sheltered life in the south of France and quite happy with their once a year holiday missive. 

 

If she could just get a few nights of decent sleep, Hermione knew she could get a handle on things. But she was having these horrible dreams. Not her usual nightmares involving Death Eaters and the final battle, no… these involved a startling array of supernatural creatures and someone she desperately wanted to forget. Sam Winchester. Oh, Dean was a co-star usually, unless of course she was reliving that wantonly sinful night. Those were much worse than the nightmares in her book.

 

It probably didn’t help that she slept with his t-shirt clutched to her chest every night, but she couldn’t seem to make her self get rid of it. She had cast a preserving charm on it to retain his scent and wallowed in her misery. Every night since she had left him behind, Hermione dreamed of each touch they had shared. She was haunted by the look of his face relaxed in sleep and the expression in his eyes as he climaxed above her. Every morning she cursed her eidetic memory. How could she move on when time wouldn’t dull the memory?

 

Despite her absence from the Aurors, Harry had been keeping her updated and there was an escalating trend of supernatural activity. The most the British Isles had seen in decades. She didn’t know why, but she had been feeling an increasing amount of dread. With Snape’s reluctant help, the wards to her flat were strengthened, but she still felt threatened by something. The absolute last straw was the morning she couldn’t fasten her favorite pants. Her magic had been behaving peculiarly and her dawning suspicions were confirmed by the little stick supplied by the local Muggle druggist.

 

“What in the bloody hell am I supposed to do now?”

 

Hermione was usually a take charge kind of woman, but this new – or not so new - development had thrown her off of the deep end. There was brief thought of termination, but the resulting nightmares that followed decided for her. That and when she scryed for Sam Winchester’s location using his shirt as a focus, she got nothing but a black surface on the water. A consultation with Firenze resulted in tears. She couldn’t find Sam because the man was dead. She asked if it would be possible to find Sam’s brother and the Centaur said if she could focus on the man clearly, it could result in a positive effect. 

 

Hermione had decided to wait; she wasn’t convinced that Sam’s older brother would even care. His anger at her hurting Sam was encouraging, but not proof he would care about her predicament.   The nightly dreams were becoming increasingly disturbing. Now, she hated anything to do with Divination, but if they were in fact true and not just the result of raging hormones; Dean would do much for his family. She wanted relief and maybe some answers if he could provide them, but she just wasn’t sure if contacting him was the best option. Sam’s death was proof that Muggle Hunters led a dangerous life. Not much different than Aurors except that Hunters had to keep a very low profile and received absolutely no support from their government since the population at large had no idea why they would be necessary.

 

It took her almost a week of restlessness and dreams in which she was searching for Sam to make up her mind. Her special traveling bag was packed and everything was arranged when a knock sounded on her door. The sight of Ron on her doorstep had her opening her door and inviting him in. Cramps had flared in her stomach and the smell of sulfur permeated the room as he stepped across the threshold.  A sense of urgency flooded her being and Hermione unconsciously moved to her bag, startling at the sound of a voice not belonging to Ron issuing from her friend’s mouth.

 

“Going somewhere little girl?”

 

She barely had time to throw up a defensive shield before a blast of power hit it. His wand was still in his pocket and he had his hand flung out toward her. “Ron! What are you doing?”

 

“Ron’s not in right now.” His eyes flashed yellow. “As for what I’m doing? I can’t have you messing things up now can I?”

 

The cramp in her stomach increased and Hermione was mindless as the need to flee overwhelmed her. She apparated, landing in front of Honeydukes as she breathed through her nose, trying not to vomit. Ron appeared seconds later, his face marred by yellowed eyes and a cruel sneer. He sent another wave of power at her and her natural magical defenses responded. Unfortunately for him, with her magic surging erratically like it was, his power bounced off of hers and theirs combined hit the large picture window of Honeydukes. The glass shattered, large pieces flying about and just before Hermione apparated again, she saw one pierce Ron’s throat, leaving a gaping wound no one could have survived.

 

Pushing her horror to the back of her mind, Hermione apparated five more times before stopping to rest. She refused to give in to her fear and grief until she had a safe place to breakdown. She slept in an abandoned shack in what was probably Italy for two days, waking to the sound of approaching footsteps.  Hermione apparated away immediately and rested for a few hours more before creating an illegal portkey, not trusting her magic to apparate her safely across the ocean to America. Her first arrival point was Seattle, Washington. Some might think that strange, but it was the only large city she could picture clearly when she created the portkey. Hermione knew she should probably rest more than the three days her body had forced her to take, but there was a sense of urgency driving her to find Sam’s brother.

 

Determined to find Dean Winchester and discover what had happened to Sam, Hermione performed the spell Firenze suggested. With the location in mind, she gathered her things and prepared to leave. Seattle being a large city, it was an easy process to exchange most of her money to the local currency. The bathroom of the local library offered a private place to activate her transportation device. Upon arrival, she investigated the small town and discovered to her surprise, she was indeed in Deadwood, South Dakota. It was a fairly small town compared to the sprawling mass of London and Hermione felt a minute sense of safety as she walked down the main street. She felt a bit flushed and noticed that there was a little ice cream shop and she went inside to cool off. She hadn’t been able to eat much in the last week or so and her stomach rumbled as she opened the door. The need to move again had her leaving the shop almost immediately after purchasing the sweet treat.

 

Hermione took about four steps before she saw the car. One more step had her crashing into a familiar smelling solid wall of male flesh. Her cone went flying and large hands grasped her elbows to prevent her from falling to the ground. There was a sense of Déjà vu as her eyes traveled up the expanse of flannel to collide with the surprised face of Sam Winchester.

 

Hermione saw Dean in the periphery of her vision which was fading in and out from shock. The three of them were speechless and Hermione could only stare at Sam, not fully comprehending that he was actually alive.

 

Coincidences like this bothered the hell out of Dean and this was just too much. Sam looked so happy to see her and Dean could tell from the look on her face, she was shocked to see him. She struggled out of Sam’s grasp and turned to Dean just as the color leeched from her face and her eyes rolled up. Sam caught her up in his arms and despite Dean’s protests, carried her to the car. Surprised that no one had noticed, Dean grabbed her bag and after a minute of arguing, they decided to take her to Bobby’s. The salvage yard was a forty five minute drive and Dean kept looking in the rearview mirror to check on Sam and Hermione. Every time Dean tried to voice his objections, Sam would send him a look that effectively silenced him. Sam didn’t need to remind his brother they still had issues to work out.

 

Dean was relieved to see Bobby was out on a call and they carried Hermione into their room and laid her on Sam’s bed. Sam gave him a dirty look, but didn’t stop Dean as he searched the woman’s bag. It held an amazing amount of clothes inside it. More than it should have. When he stuffed them back in, they all seemed to fit. One of the outside pockets had an odd collection of currency. A pocket inside of her sleeve revealed an odd looking carved stick. Sam completed the pat down of her person and discovered that Hermione had a much bigger secret.

 

“Woah, uh, Dean?”

 

Dean stepped closer to Sam’s side of the room and looked into his brother’s startled gaze.

 

He pointed to her middle and Dean blanched at the sight of what they had both missed earlier.

 

“She’s pregnant.”

 

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 TBC...

Comments

[xwingace]

Supernatural and Harry Potter are not really my fandoms, so no comment on that. I *am* a dancer, however,and I saw your title and author's note. I believe that the step you are referring to is in fact called a pas de basque.

Sorry to be niggly...

XWA

[dhark-charlotte.livejournal.com]

You know, I got lazy and used the first definition I came across which was for ballet. My daughter is taking Highland Dance and the term used is Pas de Bas for a particular step. I understand it's similar and when I dig up the relative one, I'll edit.

Thanks for your attention!

[ccmom.livejournal.com]

I liked it. I think you've got some great stuff here. I look forward to seeing where you take us.

[dhark-charlotte.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much for commenting!

I've got it written through ch 5, ch 6 is well on its way.