FIC: The Halston Gown (NC-17)
Title: The Halston Gown
Type: Fic
Prompter: Anonymous
Creator: prolurk
Beta(s): canis domina
Rating: NC-17
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): For non-thematic sexually harassing and biphobic behavior/dialogue.
(Highlight to View) Prompt: One of them has finally decided to propose.
Summary: Ten years after the War, Hogwarts' new DADA Professor, who used to be an Auror, and the Potions Professor have secretly started to date without Rita Skeeter or anyone in the press catching on. Severus is faced with the question: Does he dare reach for what he wants?
WHO WILL ESCORT YOU TO THE BALL?
The Second Week of April, 2009
Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, Hogwarts most intimidating Professor, Order of Merlin, First Class, former Death Eater (in fact, the world's most successful Death Eater, by virtue of having survived a mortal attack by Lord Voldemort himself) and difficult personality extraordinaire sat one afternoon on the couch in Professor Granger's lounge, his feet up on the coffee table, his arm around said Professor's shoulders and Ars Alchemica open on his lap. He could also be classified as totally besotted with the woman under his arm, but few people other than himself and the object of his affection knew that. They had been dating for six months in such a way that few people knew of it. Professor Granger had introduced him to a practice among her friends they called the Press Game. They'd devised a system to go about their business in life without members of the press knowing where they went to dinner, or took their children to a Healer or bought their underwear. The system required planning and cooperation, but it gave them all something closer to a normal life, and Severus for one was grateful.
Looking up from the opinion piece at the back of the journal (written by an idiot, naturally), he caught sight of her invitation to the Annual Victory Gala on her coffee table. "Hermione," he said. "Any thoughts on how to handle this?"
"This being…?" she looked up from her own book. "Ah. Shall we go together?"
He pulled her closer. That would expose their relationship to the press. It would splash her across the front page as being another one of Snape's floozies, which would be utterly unacceptable. That was exactly what they'd started the Press Game to avoid. "Maybe not…"
"I suppose we could just go with the Hogwarts' group."
"I predict that you will still be seated at the Heroes' Table."
She made a face. "I hate that," she mumbled. "And I've never understood why they don't put you there anymore."
"There may have been a few well-phrased complaints, if not threats, from, er, me."
"I see," she chuckled. "Wish that would work for the rest of us. OK, we could go with other people."
"Anyone I might take would expect me to take her home and stay there."
"That won't do," she said firmly and he smirked against her hair. He never thought he'd like it to hear someone sound possessive of him, but this was rather nice. The smirk ended when she said: "Anthony Owled and asked if I'd be his back-up this year."
"Can't he find his own girl?"
"He's dating a Muggle."
"Oh."
"He might be able to get a Muggle into something else. But not this."
"Does she know about him?"
"They haven't been together long enough to have that talk, really. The last time he and I talked he was really hopeful that it would progress that far. Hopeful enough to start trying to figure out ways to tell him."
"Him?" Well, then. Goldstein now had his permission to take Hermione just about anywhere.
THE HALSTON GOWN
April 19, 2009
The Floo flared green. "Hermione!"
"Coming! Who? Oh, Luna!" Hermione happily plopped down in front of the fire. "How are you? How's Argentina? What's new?"
"What's new is that I'm back in London!"
"Brilliant! Can you come through?" she shuffled to the side.
"Not now, I can't. But lunch this week in Diagon Alley?"
"I actually have to take something to Mme Malkin's for alteration tomorrow. Does that work?"
"Perfect! Something for the Ball?"
Hermione nodded.
"I suppose I ought to look for something myself. The Leaky at noon?"
"Perfect!"
And so they tolerated cameras over sandwiches at the Leaky Cauldron. Any real gossip was shelved for a more private time, but Luna regaled her friend with stories about Buenos Aires and dulce de lecce.
"Word has it that you've inducted a new player into the Game," Luna murmured during a quiet spell. "And he's all yours. Who is it?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Later," said Luna.
Madame Malkin sighed when Hermione pulled the garment bag off the gown.
"That's an American Halston" she said. "Where did you get it?"
"It's my Mum's. She bought it during the day, on a trip to New York. It doesn't need much, but I was hoping you could touch it up to fit me better."
Mme Malkin was nearly drooling. "Of course. Let's see it on, then."
It was grass-green silk chiffon, a halter that was heavily beaded down the bodice, the silver bugle beads thinning out as they progressed toward the hem that flirted about her ankles. The bodice had a deep vee and the back was nearly non-existent. Hermione slipped on the platform silver sandals that her Mum had worn with it and stepped from the dressing room.
Luna whistled. "That's a show-stopper."
"What do you wear under that?" marveled the shop assistant.
"Perfume" said Mme Malkin.
Hermione inspected the dress critically in the mirror. "It's a little short, I think. And can you bring up the vee?" She pulled the edges of the neckline over her scar.
"No" said Luna firmly.
"But..."
"I know. You always want to keep that covered, but after all the speculation that you've left the Aurors because you're too delicate a flower to take the job, the sight of that is the only rebuttal you need."
Hermione looked at the scar with new respect.
"Ms. Lovegood has a very good point, Professor Granger. It's ridiculous that they actually put drivel like that in the paper," said Madame. She pulled the vee nearly to Hermione's navel with her finger. "I think you should take it a little lower. Let the whole thing show."
Hermione gasped at that. "Lower!" She found herself blushing. "I've never worn anything scandalous in my life! And that's not a little!"
"Never? Gracious!" said Madame. "Then it's time."
"Your Mum must have been irresistible in that," said Luna.
"Reportedly, she was. She wore this the night she met Dad."
"And the rest is history" murmured the shopgirl.
"All right, then. But maybe not THAT low," Hermione capitulated.
A brisk bit of wand-work, and the length was corrected and the neckline deepened, as well as a charm to support the bosom like a bra. Four women stared in reverent silence. "Who's your date, then?" asked Mme Malkin.
"Anthony Goldstein."
"Lucky man," said the shopgirl.
"This isn't for him, though," said Luna. "Who's it for?"
The siren in the green dress smirked. "Let's just say it's for Rita Skeeter."
THAT DAMNED HALSTON GOWN
May 2, 2009
An hour on makeup, a bit of sparkly powder in her curls, the gown, with the bosom charm and the handy Modesty charm that Mme Malkin showed her to keep the fabric in place as well as a nifty cushioning charm for the wicked shoes, and she was ready. The shop doyenne had also treated the fabric with an Impermeability charm inside and out to preserve all the bead stitching and prevent stains. She floated down the stairs and did a slow spin for her parents in the lounge.
"Oh, my God," her mother breathed. "I couldn't have looked that good in that."
Gerald Granger, never a man to shirk a challenge, kissed his wife on the cheek and murmured, "You looked better, love".
Viola smirked. She'd managed to deviate Gerald from fussing about the décolletage on his baby girl.
The doorbell rang. Gerald jumped up. "I should get that." He showed Anthony in, and the poor young man gasped.
"Wow!" he said. "Girl, you could make me reconsider so much, looking like that."
She picked up her clutch and took his arm. "You know what? No one, and I mean no one, is going to say anything nicer than that to me tonight. Thank you."
"Well," he said, "I think this is going to be one interesting night. Shall we?"
Snape hated himself for his inability to keep his eyes off the door to the ballroom. He felt like a teenager. He glanced at Malfoy, who hadn't seemed to notice his friend's distraction as he nattered about his new Abraxan that he'd acquired from Mme Maxim. A tray of champagne floated by, and Severus used this as an excuse to turn his back to the door as he snagged a glass. Malfoy went on about wingspan.
Until he said "Well, well, well, what have we here?" He nodded at the door.
Snape turned, and choked on his wine. There was Hermione on the arm of Anthony Goldstein, looking like a goddess. A ripple of comment wasn't unusual as any member of the Golden Trio entered the party, but this was different. She was stunning, she knew it and so did everyone else.
As he coughed, he struggled to get himself back under control: he had a violent urge to march up to Goldstein and claim her, Game be damned. They had agreed to play the night as only colleagues, but this was unfair. It would have been much easier if she'd shown up in teaching robes. Malfoy pounded him on the back, saying "At least you get to ask her to dance, old man. I wouldn't dare."
Damned right, and he shouldn't. No one else should. But others were going to, and she was going to be the center of massive attention tonight. She caught Severus' gaze over the Minister's shoulder and gave him a tiny smile. He knew that smile. That was her "come get me" smile when she'd say "Well, I think it's time to turn in". Vixen.
Malfoy was frowning. "That's no ordinary décolletage", he said. "Has she always had that scar?"
Snape looked closer and realized that for the first time since he'd known her, she was letting all and sundry see that shining silver line. "1996", he said. "Dolohov did that at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."
Lucius threw his head back and laughed. "You don't say? So much for her not being tough enough for the Aurors. She doesn't even have to say a word." He sobered. "I was there," he said, as if it was necessary to point that out. "The chit not only had the nerve to distract Dolohov from Potter, she managed to get a few good hexes in under his guard. And she Silenced him! We didn't let him live that down in Azkaban."
Snape looked at him gravely. "It might be fun to see what happens if you mention that to more than me."
Lucius smirked.
Was that why she chose the dress? Did he delude himself that she did this to attract him? Her come-hither smile was forgotten as doubt fed his jealousy. It was a definite: this was going to be one horrible night.
"See here", Malfoy was saying. "How do you know that?"
Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Who made the potions, hmm?" Indeed, he had made the potions. He'd made the potions for all of them, angry with each and every one of them as well as with himself. He should have stopped them.
He snagged another glass of champagne.
Mercifully, the dinner gong rang. He was seated at a table with the rest of the Hogwarts faculty. She was seated with the Potters, Weasley and the Longbottoms. When he looked across, he could see her profile, but she'd have to turn her head to see him.
Photographers were everywhere, more annoying than usual, and it seemed to him that every one of them needed a picture of Hermione's neckline. It was starting to bother her, judging from the way she kept a hand in front of her chest, playing with the pearl pendant she was wearing.
Back in the End, if anyone ogled your girl like that, you punched his lights out in fine style. He toyed with the fantasy for a while. Wouldn't that make a splash? She'd probably kill him.
The speeches were no more interesting than usual. He concentrated on his trifle, which was actually quite good. When music struck up, Goldstein stood at once and led Hermione to the floor. Goldstein managed to keep his hand at her waist without venturing out to her extensively bared back. That took talent, Snape had to admit. The rest of the couples at their table joined them and soon they were trading partners back and forth as if they'd done it for years.
Which, of course, they had.
"Care to favor an old woman with a tour of the floor, Severus?" Minerva said.
He bowed. "It would be my pleasure." And so he was out of the dance floor where Hermione was.
And then he lost her. She'd been dancing with Longbottom when he stood up, but now Longbottom was dancing with Ginevra Potter. Where was Hermione? For a dreadful moment, he wondered if she would leave the ballroom with someone before he kicked himself. Then he caught sight of her across the floor, dancing with some pudgy Ministry sort who had his sweaty hand in the middle of her back. Severus seethed. When they turned so that she could see him over her partner's shoulder, she smiled and rolled her eyes. He didn't think it was funny.
Having danced with Minerva, he proceeded to escort each of his distaff tablemates to the floor for "duty dances". It was nice in that none of them simpered at him, as did Ms. Parks-Witherspoon when he returned to the tables. He'd fully expected her to snub him after he'd gotten her drunk at last year's Ball and abandoned her at her home.
"Severus", she cooed. "Don't I get a dance?" Ah, sweet forgiveness.
So she got a dance. She prattled away as they foxtrotted, events (or non-events) of last year quite forgotten. Hermione had returned to her table by the time the music paused, and he extricated himself from Yolanda as quickly as he could. Now for what he wanted to do from the beginning.
He glided over to her table and bent to her ear. "Professor Granger." She turned to smile at him. "Would you do me the honor of a dance?"
She beamed at him and preceded him to the floor. "How nice!" she said as she laid her hand on his shoulder. "It's a waltz." She let her fingertips slip under his hair above his collar to caress his neck. He glanced at her sharply. That was unfair. He wasn't about to paw her back in public like some Ministry official. Much as he might want to. "How are you holding up?" she asked.
He shrugged. "At least the speeches were shorter this year." She nodded. "You seem to have set up a bit of a teapot tempest."
She cast him a dark glance. "It's a little weird, isn't it?"
"You mean you didn't choose the dress for maximum impact?"
She snorted. "I chose the dress because it was free. It's Mum's."
He almost laughed. His Hermione: practical to the point of seduction.
"I took it to Madame Malkin to have the neckline raised."
He goggled at her. "It was lower?"
"No, she and Luna talked me into lowering it instead."
"Lovegood's idea, I expect."
"Yes. Who knew she could be devious?"
He threw his head back and laughed. "Well, you are stunning tonight. You look like a dream come true."
She blinked at him and smiled. "I hope it's your dream, love, because yours would be the only one I'd grant."
It took all he had not to snog her right there.
Across the room, a lady watched them with a soft smile on her face, her brain whirring at a fantastic rate the smile belied. She leaned in to her husband. "When the time comes," she murmured in his ear, "remind me that this was the night I predicted that Severus has met his match." She nodded to the couple as they spun by.
Lucius' eyebrows flew up. "She's a slip of a girl! And one of the Golden Trio! That would never happen!"
"That, my love, is no girl," Narcissa replied. "And he asked her dance."
"I admit that it surprised me that he started dancing at these things, but that's not unusual."
"Oh, yes. It is. Other than his obligation dances with the ladies at his table - and he sometimes won't even do that, the bad-mannered man - he never asks a lady to dance. They ask him."
"You've observed this?"
"Of course."
Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened to Voldemort's ambitions if he'd listened to a different Black sister. Not for the first time, he wondered how it would have been if he'd listened to his Black sister himself.
"I fear we might not be invited to the wedding," Narcissa sighed.
"Don't get too far ahead of things, my dear. But I get your point. It's time that we mended fences with the lovely Professor."
Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. "I think this is going to be one memorable evening."
Back in her chair, Hermione sighed. They'd debated risking a second dance and in the end decided it was too obvious. Her right hand was still warm from his fingers.
Ginny leaned over. "Brace yourself. Here comes Cormac."
Hermione couldn't help making a face. Two seconds later, McLaggen was leaning over them, a heavy hand on each lady's shoulder.
"Good evening ladies. Are you having a good time?"
Ginny shrugged hard. "I was until you started pawing me."
"Just for that I won't ask you to dance. Care to have a go, Hermione?"
"Really, Cormac, I've just sat down…"
"Oh, come on, do! You're only young once!" He practically hauled her out of her chair and pulled her to the dance floor past Harry and Ron, who cast pitying glances at Hermione.
Snape sauntered from the bar to the dance floor, stopping behind Potter and Weasley in time to hear one say "This is going to be interesting."
They were watching Hermione and that self-impressed dunderhead, what was his name? McLaughlin? McLaggen! The dunderhead was rubbing his hand back and forth across her back and leering at her, and she was clearly having none of it. He looked at Weasley over her shoulder and spreading his hand wide open on her back, licked his lips. Severus had to take a deep breath when he saw red.
"I'm tired of him", Weasley mused.
"Too right", said Potter.
Severus couldn't agree more.
"There she goes," said Potter. There she goes what?, wondered Severus. As he watched, the distance between her and McLaggen increased and her arm straightened from his shoulder. His fingers scrabbled at her waist in obvious effort to pull her back closer, but they failed. Potter and Weasley laughed. "So?" Potter said to his friend.
"Oh, definitely. We just need to keep our eyes open for an opportunity." Weasley noticed Severus standing behind them and raised his eyebrows.
"This isn't Hogwarts, gentlemen", Severus said. "I can't stop your scheming, whatever it is."
They laughed. "I was rather wondering if you wouldn't like to take part", Weasley said. "Unless he was a favorite student of yours."
Snape snorted and shook his head. "A favorite Gryffindor? He would not be it."
They chuckled. Potter scanned the room. "Where's the Bug?"
"Skeeter?" Snape said. He gestured vaguely. "Over there, watching Granger and her charming swain." And coincidentally, Goldstein was making his way between the tables with rescue clearly his intent.
Granger and her charming swain danced by and Potter reached out to snatch her elbow. "There you are Hermione! Cormac, I'm cutting in." McLaggen glared after them until he heard Weasley chuckling.
"Shut up", he snarled. "She's not yours anymore, you might as well give over."
"Good luck with that," said Weasley affably. McLaggen stalked off and they watched Skeeter move to intercept him. "Trust me, me boyo," Weasley muttered, "I haven't figured out how yet, but you're going to have one unpleasant night."
Goldstein slowed his progress and was diverted by a Ministry sort.
Snape's curiosity overwhelmed him. He moved to Weasley's elbow. "What was that she did to him?"
The redhead grinned. "Repulsion jinx. Wandless, so your opponent can't get close enough to you to do much harm, like strangle you. Or paw you while dancing, apparently."
Snape grinned into his drink.
The evening seemed to start about like any other Victory Ball, and Rita Skeeter sighed. What were the chances she'd wind up with a juicy headline like last year's? It didn't matter to her that the rumor she started about Weasley and Granger reuniting was false. That simply gave her a chance to needle La Granger even more. It was really a shame she refused to marry the Weasley numbskull. Rita would have been guaranteed years of fodder as he misbehaved all over the British Isles. Not that he didn't provide her with plenty of fodder as it was.
The night perked up when La Granger arrived and knocked everyone out of their shoes. She actually looked like the femme fatale that Rita worked so hard to paint her, and Rita hated to admit it to herself, she carried it off masterfully.
Damn her for exposing that scar. Rita couldn't think of a single negative thing to say about it besides that it was, well, a scar and by definition ugly. Her only consolation was the lovely tidbit Lucius Malfoy had dropped, though he seemed reluctant to say it. She didn't mind giving Granger credit that was due for the things she did during the war; the article about her being too timid to be an Auror hadn't been hers. She disapproved of Cuffe publishing that; it tarnished the war effort, and after it became clear that the Dark Fool had returned, Rita had been furious with the Minister for feeding the press misinformation. After that, the war effort became a priority to her. Except, of course, for her book about Dumbledore.
Wizards were buzzing around Granger as if they'd never seen her before, and maybe they hadn't. Their fault for being selectively blind. Unfortunately, although she looked nothing like the boring bookworm she actually was, Granger wasn't taking advantage of her scandalous appearance by indulging in scandalous behavior. She acted like she always did, steadily polite, merry with her friends, dancing with multiple people and not at all appearing enamored of her date. So far, the only aberrancy was that she danced with Snape, and it was he who asked her. He rather had to, didn't he, now that they were colleagues?
And then she danced with Cormac McLaggen. He'd made a name for himself. Someone had once described him as a "life support system for a cock" and that seemed pretty accurate. He'd generated some print interest a few years ago, but his lack of predictability bored readers rather quickly. This was the first time Skeeter ever saw him go after Granger. That'll serve the chit for looking like a wet dream.
Granger managed to get away from him, with help from Potter, and McLaggen was obviously towering mad. Rita made a beeline for him. Three minutes later, she had copy that would rival last year's.
"She may be smart and all, but I tell you, she's a frigid cow, has been since school. No wonder Weasley dumped her. No wonder she's single. She clearly has no idea how to please a man."
Not Rita's usual fare, but she could find a way to use it. Now for the "corroboration" that Cuffe so insisted that she get. This should be fun.
She sauntered up to Potter and Weasley. "Good evening!" she sang out. "Lovely do, isn't it?" She ignored their blank gazes. "I've heard a tidbit and I wondered if you'd like to tell me more. According to Mr McLaggen…" she pulled their heads closer to whisper in their ears and waited for the eruption. But instead of growing angry, they exchanged glances and then laughed long and loud.
"Oh, that's our Cormac", said Ron. "Can't believe there's a bird or a bloke who can resist his fatal charms!" And he laughed until he cried.
She stared at them agog. "You don't mean…"
Snape stepped up behind Hermione's best friends. "He never outgrew that?" he added, smirking.
"Never mind Ms Skeeter," giggled Potter. "Let's just say we have no comment."
She wandered off, scheming. This might just turn out to be one productive night.
"She practically gifted it to me," marveled Weasley.
The pair grinned at Snape. "I wondered if you'd resist," said Potter. "Bloody inspired, Ron. She's so suggestible. She'll spend the rest of the night hunting down more testimony that McLaggen swings both ways, and there aren't too many Wizards here who haven't had their wives or girlfriends hit on by that idiot. She should find plenty of spiteful people to feed her more."
"I must say," said Severus. "I wouldn't have expected something that subtle."
"Never let it be said that our Hermione didn't teach us anything," grinned Weasley. "Of course, if the Bug quotes me directly, I may be looking over my shoulder."
Severus glared at his empty glass. He was laughing with the Chosen One and his sidekick. He knew it would come to this. It had to stop. He actually nodded politely and left for the bar.
After she'd gotten free of McLaggen, Hermione had crossed the ballroom to sit with two ladies at the Aurors' table. A few of her old colleagues clearly saw no point in talking to her - and he noted they were all older men - but most of the rest gathered round to chat with her, a few of the younger men clearly ogling. One earned a light slap across the arm from her, and he blushed red. Her old team leader stepped over to talk to her, also ogling and leering until Snape wanted to run across the room. The man pointed at her chest, and whatever she said made him furious. The others covered snickers as he stormed off.
She could take care of herself, and she did it well. He'd love to know what she'd said to the old fool. He watched Lee Jordan step behind her and tap her on the shoulder. She spun around and squealing, flung her arms around his neck. Severus gritted his teeth.
Jordan swept her off to the dance floor, and then to the table he shared with far too many Weasleys. That's where she stayed for nearly the rest of the evening, visiting and laughing in between dances.
It was somewhere between 11:30 and midnight that he stopped to count up the drinks he'd had, and was slightly embarrassed at the number. His past had come back to haunt him in the form of ladies of his prior acquaintance leading him to the dance floor or trying to convince him to leave with them. After he'd escaped the fourth one of those, he retreated to the shadows and leaned against the wall. He watched her and felt increasingly disturbed. This was the jealousy he'd been afraid of before they started this relationship. He was proud of his intelligence, his learning, his power and his resourcefulness. In all these things he was beyond self-confident. His social insecurity seemed to plague him no less than it had when he was a boy. At least tonight it felt that way. Handsome and charming men surrounded her and made her laugh. Men with good reputations. Men with money. Yet she said she chose him. Why would she do that? He'd had too much alcohol for it to make sense, and his jealousy wouldn't let him access his trust in her. She was doing too good a job of pretending she barely knew him, and he forgot that she'd been playing the Press Game for long enough to get good at it. She'd stopped looking his way; of course, how did he expect her to find him in the shadows? And then she settled back in her seat with a tiny smile on her lips. She'd found him. She was a wonder. Or he was too drunk to hide well.
The thought that she could change her mind ran over his heart with sharpened hooves. He could wait for her to do that and live the rest of his life damning her for leaving him and damning himself for letting her. Or he could find a way to make it harder for her to leave. Any number of shifty spells and Dark potions came to mind. And then he'd be in Azkaban and that wouldn't be any better. He watched her left hand play with the pearl pendant. If he added something to that hand, it would certainly mean she wasn't leaving. He'd been dreaming of the future lately: growing old together, leaving Hogwarts and living in a house somewhere. Sometimes he dreamed of children, although those dreams were usually alarming. He'd be a horrible father. Wouldn't he? But as for the rest, if he convinced her to marry him, those dreams had merit. The trick was to convince a woman like her to marry a man like him.
Severus wandered back to his table.
"You're here longer than I'd expected you to be," Minerva said as he sat down.
"Too much firewhiskey," he said. "Can't Apparate yet." Severus snapped his fingers for an elf and requested coffee.
Hermione appeared from behind him to sit next to Minerva. "I meant to spend more time with you!" she said to her.
"Are you having a good time, dear?"
"I really am. Since I don't live here anymore, I actually haven't seen some of these people in a while. It was good to catch up." She flashed a smile at Severus. "How are you?"
He shrugged. The nasty quip he was about to fire off about Hogwarts squelching her social life died in the warmth of that smile.
Minerva was nodding. "I've found that these events provide just that opportunity," she said.
Hermione leaned in a little. "So have you heard any good gossip?" she said impishly.
Severus couldn't resist. "Apparently, it's come out that Cormac McLaggen is bisexual."
Hermione looked stunned at that. "There was a time", Minerva said sternly, "when such things weren't discussed in polite company. But, really? You don't say!"
Hermione held Severus' gaze until he tweaked an eyebrow at her. Her eyes slid over to Harry and Ron and she started to look rather sly. "I see," she said. "How inconvenient for him." And then she grinned.
Goldstein sat next to Hermione. "Quite the night," he said.
"Yes. I think the band was really good this year," said Hermione.
"And yet, you've had enough?"
"More than enough. Cushioning charms only work so well on shoes like these." She gave Minerva a hug. "We're off." Over Minerva's shoulder she smiled at Severus. "I think it's time to turn in."
Severus almost groaned. Exactly who had said it was a good idea for her to leave and not go home with him? He was more determined than ever that she was his future, and Game or no Game, he needed a plan where neither she nor he could have any doubts about it. And next year, she'd go home with him.
Anthony and Hermione Apparated to the shed in her parents' garden and proceeded to the back porch swing. "What's the matter?" Hermione asked.
Anthony shook his head. "All that to-do about Cormac has me thinking."
"I think that was Ron's doing," she said. "He and Harry have never forgiven him for making a pass at Ginny."
"He did? Wanker."
"He's worked very hard to make himself un-likeable."
"Thing is, Skeeter will publish all that and there will be a lot of talk and it will be pretty homophobic."
"True."
"Things are more accepting on the Muggle side. Not perfect, but better."
"You're not sure you want to bring Will into this, are you?"
"No, I'm not. Maybe that means I don't want to tell him about our World at all."
"Are you at the point where you have to make a choice?"
Anthony smiled. "Yeah, I think we are. It's good news and bad news, isn't it?"
"Well, you don't have to make him live in Diagon Alley, at least. You bring him to meet us whenever you're ready. You know we'll keep you safe. And if you wind up in the Prophet anyway, it's not like the Times will pick it up."
"There's that." He stood up. "You look gorgeous, tonight, I'll say it again."
"Thank you."
"I hope certain other people think so."
She smiled. "Other People did say something to that effect."
"It was his first big Press Game outing wasn't it? I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to knock me flat for squiring you. And everyone else."
"Oh, dear."
He bent to kiss her cheek, and stepping behind the rose trellis, Disapparated. She pulled the throw from the back of the swing and swung it over her shoulders before she leaned back and kicked the swing into motion. "You can come out, now."
Severus stepped from the shadows. "How did you know I was here?"
"Your Apparation wasn't as quiet as usual. I heard you. Are you tipsy?"
"No," he said. "I'm drunk."
"I wondered. You had more than usual."
"You were watching?"
"Of course I was." She stopped the swing for him to sit next to her. "Just like you were watching me." She'd felt his eyes on her all night. It had made her feel a little more secure in the middle of all the attention. That was weird. Show off your cleavage and men who never paid you any mind crowd around. It was gratifying for the first hour, but after that, she had to keep herself from snapping at people who'd never cared to be her friends before.
It bothered her that his face darkened as the night went on. She knew he was prone to jealousy, and after watching Ron fight the green monster most of their lives, she knew she couldn't do much to fix his frame of mind. That battle was his. But if she wanted this to last forever, she knew that she'd do best to set some limits. She tried to see his face in the moonlight. "I was two seconds away from going to your rescue when that voluptuous blonde draped herself all over you, Game be damned. I wanted to march up to her and say 'Back off, bitch! He's mine!' That would probably have made the front page, though."
He looked at her with sharp surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shrugged and cut him off. "I knew you could take care of yourself."
"You weren't afraid I'd leave with her?" He was trying to sound droll.
She reached up to caress his cheek. "You wouldn't do that. You're not Ron. I was a little worried the brunette might try to kidnap you, though."
He chuckled. Maybe she'd diverted the green monster? But he became sober again. No such luck, then. "Weasley is a fool. I don't know why you forgave him enough to be his friend, but your heart is more open than mine will ever be. He had something priceless with you and he'll never find anything better. I know that.
"I played around a lot after the war…" He paused when she snorted. "I never got close enough to anyone to claim her as my own, and I still was angry to see one of them with someone else after I'd dropped her. Or she dropped me. I'm a jealous man, Hermione. I had a hard time tonight watching you. I wanted to interrupt them myself, many times." He retrieved her hand.
"You're mine, Hermione." His voice was rough and stern, and she caught an undertone of anger. This was worse than she thought.
It took some maneuvering, what with the rocking of the swing, but she transferred herself to his lap and pushed the hair away from his face. His arms came around her waist tightly. "The Americans have a word they use to answer things like that," she said. His eyebrows went up. "Duh," she chanted and he rolled his eyes. "Allow me to remind you that this was the case long before you knew about it." He looked so embarrassed that she kissed him, which he took to with passion that made her breathless.
When they came up for air, she said, "Look. I know there are things that make you anxious. And I promise that I won't take advantage of that; I'll never play mind games and make you jealous to manipulate you. But neither will I wear a burka to protect your sensitivities. I can't control your mind for you. That's your look-out."
He nodded. "You have a point," he said. He felt inordinately relieved, even as he knew his anxiety was of his own making. 'Duh', she'd said. She had never said anything else. That first night, what had she said? 'I want to be the only witch on your arm.'
Enough was enough. The night he'd met her parents, walking back to an Apparition point in London's Chinatown, he'd glimpsed a ring in a store window. As soon as school was over, he was going to get it. And before the year was over, he'd make sure the both wore wedding rings. He was worried he'd have to beg, but she reminded him: she'd been his before he became hers.
He bent his head to kiss across her collarbone. His progress was blocked by beaded silk and he found he couldn't push it aside. At the same time, he found that he couldn't slide his fingers under the dress at her back. Frowning, he looked up to find her smiling wickedly.
"Modesty charm," she said. "It helps make sure that the only skin that shows is what's intended by the wearer."
He answered her grin. "So that's what McLaggen was trying to do. And failing." Then he frowned. "Bastard."
She chuckled. "I think he got what was coming to him." She kissed him again. Then she said, "Do you like the dress?"
He nodded and ran his fingers up her spine, making her arch.
"That's one thing that I liked a lot."
"What was that?"
She ran a hand around the back of his neck. "Making you choke on your wine." He pulled her closer. "I plan to try to do that again. Hence, no burka."
"Who am I to deprive you of your amusements?" he murmured as he started to kiss a line down her throat. She moaned and leaned back so he could explore lower, and he encountered the modesty charm again. "Please," he whispered. She retrieved her wand to cancel the charm, and he wasted no time nudging the neckline out of the way to reach her breast. He slid one hand below the beaded back to caress soft skin and stopped to look up at her. "What are you wearing under this thing?"
She smiled and arched against his hand, rolling across his lap just so. He was breathless and hard, and she loved having him like this, wanting her. Usually, she would tease him until he was out of control, and she would savor every moment of satisfying him. Sadly, tonight she could only tease him so much. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Perfume." He growled and gathered both her breasts into his hands and lavished them with almost enough attention to satisfy her. Then he kissed her dizzy.
"Come with me to Hogwarts," he gasped.
She kissed him back, her hands deep in his hair, and then she rested her forehead against his, short of breath. "I said I'd go to church with Mum and Dad tomorrow," she groaned.
"Damn. And ironic."
His hands were playing with her nipples and she couldn't stifle a moan. "Tease," she said.
"Me? What about you?"
"It's what you get for doubting me."
He wrapped his arms tight around her and buried his face in her throat. "I'll never doubt you again."
She slumped against him to rest her head on his shoulder. "I'll be back relatively early tomorrow. They have dinner guests." She snuggled against him. "This is nice. It's like being a teenager again."
"What is?"
"Snogging on the porch after a date."
"I never did that."
"Well, now you have."
"I prefer being an adult, I think." And then he kissed her until she wanted to be an adult very, very much. Finally, he sighed. "I should go, then." She got off his lap to let him stand and started to brush at his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Glitter. From my hair."
He stopped her hand. "Leave it."
"OK."
He kissed her again, then kissed her palm. "Until tomorrow," he said, his voice low and seductive and she nearly had to sit down. He Apparated away, leaving her alone in the night. It was getting chilly.
Sighing, she went in to the house only to find her mother sitting up in the lounge, reading. "Seriously? You waited up?"
"Let's say I'm still on Brisbane time. Besides, I'm dying to hear what happened." Viola didn't seem at all apologetic. "I thought you might ask Severus in." She caught her daughter's off look and laughed. "I'd have doubts about him if he'd let you go out with another man, even Anthony, and not make sure to remind you just who really loved you."
Smiling, Hermione flopped unceremoniously onto the couch. "He reminded me," she said dreamily.
TO SEE A FUTURE
The next afternoon, when she stepped through his Floo with her messenger bag full of papers, he pounced as if he hadn't seen her in weeks. The bag tumbled to the floor near the couch, rolls of parchment scattering across the rug.
She returned his kisses with equal fervor, practically climbing him to get closer. Somehow, he managed to get her undressed and to the bed without tearing any clothes or dropping her.
She landed among the pillows laughing. "Goodness! You're impetuous!"
He prowled up her body, grinning in his best predatory fashion. "I seem to recall you saying mine was a dream you'd grant," he purred.
"Yours," she purred back. "And only yours."
He started by kissing her mouth as if he hadn't just done so to her enormous satisfaction. He moved from there down her body, lavishing special attention to each breast, and then her navel, and far too briefly, her core, before traveling down her legs to her toes. She squirmed and moaned with delight, and once with disappointment. To her surprise, he turned her over and worked his way back up her body, spending longer on the skin of her back than he had on anything else. She didn't know it, but he was determined to replace the touches on her back of every man who had danced with her last night.
Then he wrapped his arms around her hips and hauled her to her knees, thrusting deep into her body with a growl. She squealed in delight and pushed back with each thrust.
He savored her every gasp and sigh, pushing as deep as he could reach. His hands were all over her body and somehow he managed to lay a trail of kisses down her spine before he felt her walls start to spasm. He followed her climax with a roar. They collapsed into a boneless heap. "So", she said, once she regained her breath, "miss me?"
Later, they had supper in his rooms, and then she groaned and turned to her pile of tests to grade. "Probably not the best idea to take most of the weekend off this close to the end of the year," she groused.
"I doubt the Ministry cares about the school schedule."
"Don't get me started on what the Ministry cares about."
He sat at his desk to do his own grading, and the rest of the evening passed quietly, except for the rustle of parchment, the scratch of writing implements and the occasional exclamation of "Good God, listen to this answer!"
Tea was made and drunk, and he looked across the room at her snuggled on his couch scribbling on her lap desk, nibbling the end of her gel pen. It struck him that he was content. They weren't doing anything special. It was just work. But there was a sense of comfort, of wholeness that he'd never known of. And he was going to keep it forever.
Type: Fic
Prompter: Anonymous
Creator: prolurk
Beta(s): canis domina
Rating: NC-17
(Highlight to View) Warning(s): For non-thematic sexually harassing and biphobic behavior/dialogue.
(Highlight to View) Prompt: One of them has finally decided to propose.
Summary: Ten years after the War, Hogwarts' new DADA Professor, who used to be an Auror, and the Potions Professor have secretly started to date without Rita Skeeter or anyone in the press catching on. Severus is faced with the question: Does he dare reach for what he wants?
WHO WILL ESCORT YOU TO THE BALL?
The Second Week of April, 2009
Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master, Hogwarts most intimidating Professor, Order of Merlin, First Class, former Death Eater (in fact, the world's most successful Death Eater, by virtue of having survived a mortal attack by Lord Voldemort himself) and difficult personality extraordinaire sat one afternoon on the couch in Professor Granger's lounge, his feet up on the coffee table, his arm around said Professor's shoulders and Ars Alchemica open on his lap. He could also be classified as totally besotted with the woman under his arm, but few people other than himself and the object of his affection knew that. They had been dating for six months in such a way that few people knew of it. Professor Granger had introduced him to a practice among her friends they called the Press Game. They'd devised a system to go about their business in life without members of the press knowing where they went to dinner, or took their children to a Healer or bought their underwear. The system required planning and cooperation, but it gave them all something closer to a normal life, and Severus for one was grateful.
Looking up from the opinion piece at the back of the journal (written by an idiot, naturally), he caught sight of her invitation to the Annual Victory Gala on her coffee table. "Hermione," he said. "Any thoughts on how to handle this?"
"This being…?" she looked up from her own book. "Ah. Shall we go together?"
He pulled her closer. That would expose their relationship to the press. It would splash her across the front page as being another one of Snape's floozies, which would be utterly unacceptable. That was exactly what they'd started the Press Game to avoid. "Maybe not…"
"I suppose we could just go with the Hogwarts' group."
"I predict that you will still be seated at the Heroes' Table."
She made a face. "I hate that," she mumbled. "And I've never understood why they don't put you there anymore."
"There may have been a few well-phrased complaints, if not threats, from, er, me."
"I see," she chuckled. "Wish that would work for the rest of us. OK, we could go with other people."
"Anyone I might take would expect me to take her home and stay there."
"That won't do," she said firmly and he smirked against her hair. He never thought he'd like it to hear someone sound possessive of him, but this was rather nice. The smirk ended when she said: "Anthony Owled and asked if I'd be his back-up this year."
"Can't he find his own girl?"
"He's dating a Muggle."
"Oh."
"He might be able to get a Muggle into something else. But not this."
"Does she know about him?"
"They haven't been together long enough to have that talk, really. The last time he and I talked he was really hopeful that it would progress that far. Hopeful enough to start trying to figure out ways to tell him."
"Him?" Well, then. Goldstein now had his permission to take Hermione just about anywhere.
THE HALSTON GOWN
April 19, 2009
The Floo flared green. "Hermione!"
"Coming! Who? Oh, Luna!" Hermione happily plopped down in front of the fire. "How are you? How's Argentina? What's new?"
"What's new is that I'm back in London!"
"Brilliant! Can you come through?" she shuffled to the side.
"Not now, I can't. But lunch this week in Diagon Alley?"
"I actually have to take something to Mme Malkin's for alteration tomorrow. Does that work?"
"Perfect! Something for the Ball?"
Hermione nodded.
"I suppose I ought to look for something myself. The Leaky at noon?"
"Perfect!"
And so they tolerated cameras over sandwiches at the Leaky Cauldron. Any real gossip was shelved for a more private time, but Luna regaled her friend with stories about Buenos Aires and dulce de lecce.
"Word has it that you've inducted a new player into the Game," Luna murmured during a quiet spell. "And he's all yours. Who is it?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Later," said Luna.
Madame Malkin sighed when Hermione pulled the garment bag off the gown.
"That's an American Halston" she said. "Where did you get it?"
"It's my Mum's. She bought it during the day, on a trip to New York. It doesn't need much, but I was hoping you could touch it up to fit me better."
Mme Malkin was nearly drooling. "Of course. Let's see it on, then."
It was grass-green silk chiffon, a halter that was heavily beaded down the bodice, the silver bugle beads thinning out as they progressed toward the hem that flirted about her ankles. The bodice had a deep vee and the back was nearly non-existent. Hermione slipped on the platform silver sandals that her Mum had worn with it and stepped from the dressing room.
Luna whistled. "That's a show-stopper."
"What do you wear under that?" marveled the shop assistant.
"Perfume" said Mme Malkin.
Hermione inspected the dress critically in the mirror. "It's a little short, I think. And can you bring up the vee?" She pulled the edges of the neckline over her scar.
"No" said Luna firmly.
"But..."
"I know. You always want to keep that covered, but after all the speculation that you've left the Aurors because you're too delicate a flower to take the job, the sight of that is the only rebuttal you need."
Hermione looked at the scar with new respect.
"Ms. Lovegood has a very good point, Professor Granger. It's ridiculous that they actually put drivel like that in the paper," said Madame. She pulled the vee nearly to Hermione's navel with her finger. "I think you should take it a little lower. Let the whole thing show."
Hermione gasped at that. "Lower!" She found herself blushing. "I've never worn anything scandalous in my life! And that's not a little!"
"Never? Gracious!" said Madame. "Then it's time."
"Your Mum must have been irresistible in that," said Luna.
"Reportedly, she was. She wore this the night she met Dad."
"And the rest is history" murmured the shopgirl.
"All right, then. But maybe not THAT low," Hermione capitulated.
A brisk bit of wand-work, and the length was corrected and the neckline deepened, as well as a charm to support the bosom like a bra. Four women stared in reverent silence. "Who's your date, then?" asked Mme Malkin.
"Anthony Goldstein."
"Lucky man," said the shopgirl.
"This isn't for him, though," said Luna. "Who's it for?"
The siren in the green dress smirked. "Let's just say it's for Rita Skeeter."
THAT DAMNED HALSTON GOWN
May 2, 2009
An hour on makeup, a bit of sparkly powder in her curls, the gown, with the bosom charm and the handy Modesty charm that Mme Malkin showed her to keep the fabric in place as well as a nifty cushioning charm for the wicked shoes, and she was ready. The shop doyenne had also treated the fabric with an Impermeability charm inside and out to preserve all the bead stitching and prevent stains. She floated down the stairs and did a slow spin for her parents in the lounge.
"Oh, my God," her mother breathed. "I couldn't have looked that good in that."
Gerald Granger, never a man to shirk a challenge, kissed his wife on the cheek and murmured, "You looked better, love".
Viola smirked. She'd managed to deviate Gerald from fussing about the décolletage on his baby girl.
The doorbell rang. Gerald jumped up. "I should get that." He showed Anthony in, and the poor young man gasped.
"Wow!" he said. "Girl, you could make me reconsider so much, looking like that."
She picked up her clutch and took his arm. "You know what? No one, and I mean no one, is going to say anything nicer than that to me tonight. Thank you."
"Well," he said, "I think this is going to be one interesting night. Shall we?"
Snape hated himself for his inability to keep his eyes off the door to the ballroom. He felt like a teenager. He glanced at Malfoy, who hadn't seemed to notice his friend's distraction as he nattered about his new Abraxan that he'd acquired from Mme Maxim. A tray of champagne floated by, and Severus used this as an excuse to turn his back to the door as he snagged a glass. Malfoy went on about wingspan.
Until he said "Well, well, well, what have we here?" He nodded at the door.
Snape turned, and choked on his wine. There was Hermione on the arm of Anthony Goldstein, looking like a goddess. A ripple of comment wasn't unusual as any member of the Golden Trio entered the party, but this was different. She was stunning, she knew it and so did everyone else.
As he coughed, he struggled to get himself back under control: he had a violent urge to march up to Goldstein and claim her, Game be damned. They had agreed to play the night as only colleagues, but this was unfair. It would have been much easier if she'd shown up in teaching robes. Malfoy pounded him on the back, saying "At least you get to ask her to dance, old man. I wouldn't dare."
Damned right, and he shouldn't. No one else should. But others were going to, and she was going to be the center of massive attention tonight. She caught Severus' gaze over the Minister's shoulder and gave him a tiny smile. He knew that smile. That was her "come get me" smile when she'd say "Well, I think it's time to turn in". Vixen.
Malfoy was frowning. "That's no ordinary décolletage", he said. "Has she always had that scar?"
Snape looked closer and realized that for the first time since he'd known her, she was letting all and sundry see that shining silver line. "1996", he said. "Dolohov did that at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries."
Lucius threw his head back and laughed. "You don't say? So much for her not being tough enough for the Aurors. She doesn't even have to say a word." He sobered. "I was there," he said, as if it was necessary to point that out. "The chit not only had the nerve to distract Dolohov from Potter, she managed to get a few good hexes in under his guard. And she Silenced him! We didn't let him live that down in Azkaban."
Snape looked at him gravely. "It might be fun to see what happens if you mention that to more than me."
Lucius smirked.
Was that why she chose the dress? Did he delude himself that she did this to attract him? Her come-hither smile was forgotten as doubt fed his jealousy. It was a definite: this was going to be one horrible night.
"See here", Malfoy was saying. "How do you know that?"
Severus quirked an eyebrow. "Who made the potions, hmm?" Indeed, he had made the potions. He'd made the potions for all of them, angry with each and every one of them as well as with himself. He should have stopped them.
He snagged another glass of champagne.
Mercifully, the dinner gong rang. He was seated at a table with the rest of the Hogwarts faculty. She was seated with the Potters, Weasley and the Longbottoms. When he looked across, he could see her profile, but she'd have to turn her head to see him.
Photographers were everywhere, more annoying than usual, and it seemed to him that every one of them needed a picture of Hermione's neckline. It was starting to bother her, judging from the way she kept a hand in front of her chest, playing with the pearl pendant she was wearing.
Back in the End, if anyone ogled your girl like that, you punched his lights out in fine style. He toyed with the fantasy for a while. Wouldn't that make a splash? She'd probably kill him.
The speeches were no more interesting than usual. He concentrated on his trifle, which was actually quite good. When music struck up, Goldstein stood at once and led Hermione to the floor. Goldstein managed to keep his hand at her waist without venturing out to her extensively bared back. That took talent, Snape had to admit. The rest of the couples at their table joined them and soon they were trading partners back and forth as if they'd done it for years.
Which, of course, they had.
"Care to favor an old woman with a tour of the floor, Severus?" Minerva said.
He bowed. "It would be my pleasure." And so he was out of the dance floor where Hermione was.
And then he lost her. She'd been dancing with Longbottom when he stood up, but now Longbottom was dancing with Ginevra Potter. Where was Hermione? For a dreadful moment, he wondered if she would leave the ballroom with someone before he kicked himself. Then he caught sight of her across the floor, dancing with some pudgy Ministry sort who had his sweaty hand in the middle of her back. Severus seethed. When they turned so that she could see him over her partner's shoulder, she smiled and rolled her eyes. He didn't think it was funny.
Having danced with Minerva, he proceeded to escort each of his distaff tablemates to the floor for "duty dances". It was nice in that none of them simpered at him, as did Ms. Parks-Witherspoon when he returned to the tables. He'd fully expected her to snub him after he'd gotten her drunk at last year's Ball and abandoned her at her home.
"Severus", she cooed. "Don't I get a dance?" Ah, sweet forgiveness.
So she got a dance. She prattled away as they foxtrotted, events (or non-events) of last year quite forgotten. Hermione had returned to her table by the time the music paused, and he extricated himself from Yolanda as quickly as he could. Now for what he wanted to do from the beginning.
He glided over to her table and bent to her ear. "Professor Granger." She turned to smile at him. "Would you do me the honor of a dance?"
She beamed at him and preceded him to the floor. "How nice!" she said as she laid her hand on his shoulder. "It's a waltz." She let her fingertips slip under his hair above his collar to caress his neck. He glanced at her sharply. That was unfair. He wasn't about to paw her back in public like some Ministry official. Much as he might want to. "How are you holding up?" she asked.
He shrugged. "At least the speeches were shorter this year." She nodded. "You seem to have set up a bit of a teapot tempest."
She cast him a dark glance. "It's a little weird, isn't it?"
"You mean you didn't choose the dress for maximum impact?"
She snorted. "I chose the dress because it was free. It's Mum's."
He almost laughed. His Hermione: practical to the point of seduction.
"I took it to Madame Malkin to have the neckline raised."
He goggled at her. "It was lower?"
"No, she and Luna talked me into lowering it instead."
"Lovegood's idea, I expect."
"Yes. Who knew she could be devious?"
He threw his head back and laughed. "Well, you are stunning tonight. You look like a dream come true."
She blinked at him and smiled. "I hope it's your dream, love, because yours would be the only one I'd grant."
It took all he had not to snog her right there.
Across the room, a lady watched them with a soft smile on her face, her brain whirring at a fantastic rate the smile belied. She leaned in to her husband. "When the time comes," she murmured in his ear, "remind me that this was the night I predicted that Severus has met his match." She nodded to the couple as they spun by.
Lucius' eyebrows flew up. "She's a slip of a girl! And one of the Golden Trio! That would never happen!"
"That, my love, is no girl," Narcissa replied. "And he asked her dance."
"I admit that it surprised me that he started dancing at these things, but that's not unusual."
"Oh, yes. It is. Other than his obligation dances with the ladies at his table - and he sometimes won't even do that, the bad-mannered man - he never asks a lady to dance. They ask him."
"You've observed this?"
"Of course."
Not for the first time, he wondered what would have happened to Voldemort's ambitions if he'd listened to a different Black sister. Not for the first time, he wondered how it would have been if he'd listened to his Black sister himself.
"I fear we might not be invited to the wedding," Narcissa sighed.
"Don't get too far ahead of things, my dear. But I get your point. It's time that we mended fences with the lovely Professor."
Satisfied, she sat back in her chair. "I think this is going to be one memorable evening."
Back in her chair, Hermione sighed. They'd debated risking a second dance and in the end decided it was too obvious. Her right hand was still warm from his fingers.
Ginny leaned over. "Brace yourself. Here comes Cormac."
Hermione couldn't help making a face. Two seconds later, McLaggen was leaning over them, a heavy hand on each lady's shoulder.
"Good evening ladies. Are you having a good time?"
Ginny shrugged hard. "I was until you started pawing me."
"Just for that I won't ask you to dance. Care to have a go, Hermione?"
"Really, Cormac, I've just sat down…"
"Oh, come on, do! You're only young once!" He practically hauled her out of her chair and pulled her to the dance floor past Harry and Ron, who cast pitying glances at Hermione.
Snape sauntered from the bar to the dance floor, stopping behind Potter and Weasley in time to hear one say "This is going to be interesting."
They were watching Hermione and that self-impressed dunderhead, what was his name? McLaughlin? McLaggen! The dunderhead was rubbing his hand back and forth across her back and leering at her, and she was clearly having none of it. He looked at Weasley over her shoulder and spreading his hand wide open on her back, licked his lips. Severus had to take a deep breath when he saw red.
"I'm tired of him", Weasley mused.
"Too right", said Potter.
Severus couldn't agree more.
"There she goes," said Potter. There she goes what?, wondered Severus. As he watched, the distance between her and McLaggen increased and her arm straightened from his shoulder. His fingers scrabbled at her waist in obvious effort to pull her back closer, but they failed. Potter and Weasley laughed. "So?" Potter said to his friend.
"Oh, definitely. We just need to keep our eyes open for an opportunity." Weasley noticed Severus standing behind them and raised his eyebrows.
"This isn't Hogwarts, gentlemen", Severus said. "I can't stop your scheming, whatever it is."
They laughed. "I was rather wondering if you wouldn't like to take part", Weasley said. "Unless he was a favorite student of yours."
Snape snorted and shook his head. "A favorite Gryffindor? He would not be it."
They chuckled. Potter scanned the room. "Where's the Bug?"
"Skeeter?" Snape said. He gestured vaguely. "Over there, watching Granger and her charming swain." And coincidentally, Goldstein was making his way between the tables with rescue clearly his intent.
Granger and her charming swain danced by and Potter reached out to snatch her elbow. "There you are Hermione! Cormac, I'm cutting in." McLaggen glared after them until he heard Weasley chuckling.
"Shut up", he snarled. "She's not yours anymore, you might as well give over."
"Good luck with that," said Weasley affably. McLaggen stalked off and they watched Skeeter move to intercept him. "Trust me, me boyo," Weasley muttered, "I haven't figured out how yet, but you're going to have one unpleasant night."
Goldstein slowed his progress and was diverted by a Ministry sort.
Snape's curiosity overwhelmed him. He moved to Weasley's elbow. "What was that she did to him?"
The redhead grinned. "Repulsion jinx. Wandless, so your opponent can't get close enough to you to do much harm, like strangle you. Or paw you while dancing, apparently."
Snape grinned into his drink.
The evening seemed to start about like any other Victory Ball, and Rita Skeeter sighed. What were the chances she'd wind up with a juicy headline like last year's? It didn't matter to her that the rumor she started about Weasley and Granger reuniting was false. That simply gave her a chance to needle La Granger even more. It was really a shame she refused to marry the Weasley numbskull. Rita would have been guaranteed years of fodder as he misbehaved all over the British Isles. Not that he didn't provide her with plenty of fodder as it was.
The night perked up when La Granger arrived and knocked everyone out of their shoes. She actually looked like the femme fatale that Rita worked so hard to paint her, and Rita hated to admit it to herself, she carried it off masterfully.
Damn her for exposing that scar. Rita couldn't think of a single negative thing to say about it besides that it was, well, a scar and by definition ugly. Her only consolation was the lovely tidbit Lucius Malfoy had dropped, though he seemed reluctant to say it. She didn't mind giving Granger credit that was due for the things she did during the war; the article about her being too timid to be an Auror hadn't been hers. She disapproved of Cuffe publishing that; it tarnished the war effort, and after it became clear that the Dark Fool had returned, Rita had been furious with the Minister for feeding the press misinformation. After that, the war effort became a priority to her. Except, of course, for her book about Dumbledore.
Wizards were buzzing around Granger as if they'd never seen her before, and maybe they hadn't. Their fault for being selectively blind. Unfortunately, although she looked nothing like the boring bookworm she actually was, Granger wasn't taking advantage of her scandalous appearance by indulging in scandalous behavior. She acted like she always did, steadily polite, merry with her friends, dancing with multiple people and not at all appearing enamored of her date. So far, the only aberrancy was that she danced with Snape, and it was he who asked her. He rather had to, didn't he, now that they were colleagues?
And then she danced with Cormac McLaggen. He'd made a name for himself. Someone had once described him as a "life support system for a cock" and that seemed pretty accurate. He'd generated some print interest a few years ago, but his lack of predictability bored readers rather quickly. This was the first time Skeeter ever saw him go after Granger. That'll serve the chit for looking like a wet dream.
Granger managed to get away from him, with help from Potter, and McLaggen was obviously towering mad. Rita made a beeline for him. Three minutes later, she had copy that would rival last year's.
"She may be smart and all, but I tell you, she's a frigid cow, has been since school. No wonder Weasley dumped her. No wonder she's single. She clearly has no idea how to please a man."
Not Rita's usual fare, but she could find a way to use it. Now for the "corroboration" that Cuffe so insisted that she get. This should be fun.
She sauntered up to Potter and Weasley. "Good evening!" she sang out. "Lovely do, isn't it?" She ignored their blank gazes. "I've heard a tidbit and I wondered if you'd like to tell me more. According to Mr McLaggen…" she pulled their heads closer to whisper in their ears and waited for the eruption. But instead of growing angry, they exchanged glances and then laughed long and loud.
"Oh, that's our Cormac", said Ron. "Can't believe there's a bird or a bloke who can resist his fatal charms!" And he laughed until he cried.
She stared at them agog. "You don't mean…"
Snape stepped up behind Hermione's best friends. "He never outgrew that?" he added, smirking.
"Never mind Ms Skeeter," giggled Potter. "Let's just say we have no comment."
She wandered off, scheming. This might just turn out to be one productive night.
"She practically gifted it to me," marveled Weasley.
The pair grinned at Snape. "I wondered if you'd resist," said Potter. "Bloody inspired, Ron. She's so suggestible. She'll spend the rest of the night hunting down more testimony that McLaggen swings both ways, and there aren't too many Wizards here who haven't had their wives or girlfriends hit on by that idiot. She should find plenty of spiteful people to feed her more."
"I must say," said Severus. "I wouldn't have expected something that subtle."
"Never let it be said that our Hermione didn't teach us anything," grinned Weasley. "Of course, if the Bug quotes me directly, I may be looking over my shoulder."
Severus glared at his empty glass. He was laughing with the Chosen One and his sidekick. He knew it would come to this. It had to stop. He actually nodded politely and left for the bar.
After she'd gotten free of McLaggen, Hermione had crossed the ballroom to sit with two ladies at the Aurors' table. A few of her old colleagues clearly saw no point in talking to her - and he noted they were all older men - but most of the rest gathered round to chat with her, a few of the younger men clearly ogling. One earned a light slap across the arm from her, and he blushed red. Her old team leader stepped over to talk to her, also ogling and leering until Snape wanted to run across the room. The man pointed at her chest, and whatever she said made him furious. The others covered snickers as he stormed off.
She could take care of herself, and she did it well. He'd love to know what she'd said to the old fool. He watched Lee Jordan step behind her and tap her on the shoulder. She spun around and squealing, flung her arms around his neck. Severus gritted his teeth.
Jordan swept her off to the dance floor, and then to the table he shared with far too many Weasleys. That's where she stayed for nearly the rest of the evening, visiting and laughing in between dances.
It was somewhere between 11:30 and midnight that he stopped to count up the drinks he'd had, and was slightly embarrassed at the number. His past had come back to haunt him in the form of ladies of his prior acquaintance leading him to the dance floor or trying to convince him to leave with them. After he'd escaped the fourth one of those, he retreated to the shadows and leaned against the wall. He watched her and felt increasingly disturbed. This was the jealousy he'd been afraid of before they started this relationship. He was proud of his intelligence, his learning, his power and his resourcefulness. In all these things he was beyond self-confident. His social insecurity seemed to plague him no less than it had when he was a boy. At least tonight it felt that way. Handsome and charming men surrounded her and made her laugh. Men with good reputations. Men with money. Yet she said she chose him. Why would she do that? He'd had too much alcohol for it to make sense, and his jealousy wouldn't let him access his trust in her. She was doing too good a job of pretending she barely knew him, and he forgot that she'd been playing the Press Game for long enough to get good at it. She'd stopped looking his way; of course, how did he expect her to find him in the shadows? And then she settled back in her seat with a tiny smile on her lips. She'd found him. She was a wonder. Or he was too drunk to hide well.
The thought that she could change her mind ran over his heart with sharpened hooves. He could wait for her to do that and live the rest of his life damning her for leaving him and damning himself for letting her. Or he could find a way to make it harder for her to leave. Any number of shifty spells and Dark potions came to mind. And then he'd be in Azkaban and that wouldn't be any better. He watched her left hand play with the pearl pendant. If he added something to that hand, it would certainly mean she wasn't leaving. He'd been dreaming of the future lately: growing old together, leaving Hogwarts and living in a house somewhere. Sometimes he dreamed of children, although those dreams were usually alarming. He'd be a horrible father. Wouldn't he? But as for the rest, if he convinced her to marry him, those dreams had merit. The trick was to convince a woman like her to marry a man like him.
Severus wandered back to his table.
"You're here longer than I'd expected you to be," Minerva said as he sat down.
"Too much firewhiskey," he said. "Can't Apparate yet." Severus snapped his fingers for an elf and requested coffee.
Hermione appeared from behind him to sit next to Minerva. "I meant to spend more time with you!" she said to her.
"Are you having a good time, dear?"
"I really am. Since I don't live here anymore, I actually haven't seen some of these people in a while. It was good to catch up." She flashed a smile at Severus. "How are you?"
He shrugged. The nasty quip he was about to fire off about Hogwarts squelching her social life died in the warmth of that smile.
Minerva was nodding. "I've found that these events provide just that opportunity," she said.
Hermione leaned in a little. "So have you heard any good gossip?" she said impishly.
Severus couldn't resist. "Apparently, it's come out that Cormac McLaggen is bisexual."
Hermione looked stunned at that. "There was a time", Minerva said sternly, "when such things weren't discussed in polite company. But, really? You don't say!"
Hermione held Severus' gaze until he tweaked an eyebrow at her. Her eyes slid over to Harry and Ron and she started to look rather sly. "I see," she said. "How inconvenient for him." And then she grinned.
Goldstein sat next to Hermione. "Quite the night," he said.
"Yes. I think the band was really good this year," said Hermione.
"And yet, you've had enough?"
"More than enough. Cushioning charms only work so well on shoes like these." She gave Minerva a hug. "We're off." Over Minerva's shoulder she smiled at Severus. "I think it's time to turn in."
Severus almost groaned. Exactly who had said it was a good idea for her to leave and not go home with him? He was more determined than ever that she was his future, and Game or no Game, he needed a plan where neither she nor he could have any doubts about it. And next year, she'd go home with him.
Anthony and Hermione Apparated to the shed in her parents' garden and proceeded to the back porch swing. "What's the matter?" Hermione asked.
Anthony shook his head. "All that to-do about Cormac has me thinking."
"I think that was Ron's doing," she said. "He and Harry have never forgiven him for making a pass at Ginny."
"He did? Wanker."
"He's worked very hard to make himself un-likeable."
"Thing is, Skeeter will publish all that and there will be a lot of talk and it will be pretty homophobic."
"True."
"Things are more accepting on the Muggle side. Not perfect, but better."
"You're not sure you want to bring Will into this, are you?"
"No, I'm not. Maybe that means I don't want to tell him about our World at all."
"Are you at the point where you have to make a choice?"
Anthony smiled. "Yeah, I think we are. It's good news and bad news, isn't it?"
"Well, you don't have to make him live in Diagon Alley, at least. You bring him to meet us whenever you're ready. You know we'll keep you safe. And if you wind up in the Prophet anyway, it's not like the Times will pick it up."
"There's that." He stood up. "You look gorgeous, tonight, I'll say it again."
"Thank you."
"I hope certain other people think so."
She smiled. "Other People did say something to that effect."
"It was his first big Press Game outing wasn't it? I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to knock me flat for squiring you. And everyone else."
"Oh, dear."
He bent to kiss her cheek, and stepping behind the rose trellis, Disapparated. She pulled the throw from the back of the swing and swung it over her shoulders before she leaned back and kicked the swing into motion. "You can come out, now."
Severus stepped from the shadows. "How did you know I was here?"
"Your Apparation wasn't as quiet as usual. I heard you. Are you tipsy?"
"No," he said. "I'm drunk."
"I wondered. You had more than usual."
"You were watching?"
"Of course I was." She stopped the swing for him to sit next to her. "Just like you were watching me." She'd felt his eyes on her all night. It had made her feel a little more secure in the middle of all the attention. That was weird. Show off your cleavage and men who never paid you any mind crowd around. It was gratifying for the first hour, but after that, she had to keep herself from snapping at people who'd never cared to be her friends before.
It bothered her that his face darkened as the night went on. She knew he was prone to jealousy, and after watching Ron fight the green monster most of their lives, she knew she couldn't do much to fix his frame of mind. That battle was his. But if she wanted this to last forever, she knew that she'd do best to set some limits. She tried to see his face in the moonlight. "I was two seconds away from going to your rescue when that voluptuous blonde draped herself all over you, Game be damned. I wanted to march up to her and say 'Back off, bitch! He's mine!' That would probably have made the front page, though."
He looked at her with sharp surprise. He opened his mouth to speak, but she shrugged and cut him off. "I knew you could take care of yourself."
"You weren't afraid I'd leave with her?" He was trying to sound droll.
She reached up to caress his cheek. "You wouldn't do that. You're not Ron. I was a little worried the brunette might try to kidnap you, though."
He chuckled. Maybe she'd diverted the green monster? But he became sober again. No such luck, then. "Weasley is a fool. I don't know why you forgave him enough to be his friend, but your heart is more open than mine will ever be. He had something priceless with you and he'll never find anything better. I know that.
"I played around a lot after the war…" He paused when she snorted. "I never got close enough to anyone to claim her as my own, and I still was angry to see one of them with someone else after I'd dropped her. Or she dropped me. I'm a jealous man, Hermione. I had a hard time tonight watching you. I wanted to interrupt them myself, many times." He retrieved her hand.
"You're mine, Hermione." His voice was rough and stern, and she caught an undertone of anger. This was worse than she thought.
It took some maneuvering, what with the rocking of the swing, but she transferred herself to his lap and pushed the hair away from his face. His arms came around her waist tightly. "The Americans have a word they use to answer things like that," she said. His eyebrows went up. "Duh," she chanted and he rolled his eyes. "Allow me to remind you that this was the case long before you knew about it." He looked so embarrassed that she kissed him, which he took to with passion that made her breathless.
When they came up for air, she said, "Look. I know there are things that make you anxious. And I promise that I won't take advantage of that; I'll never play mind games and make you jealous to manipulate you. But neither will I wear a burka to protect your sensitivities. I can't control your mind for you. That's your look-out."
He nodded. "You have a point," he said. He felt inordinately relieved, even as he knew his anxiety was of his own making. 'Duh', she'd said. She had never said anything else. That first night, what had she said? 'I want to be the only witch on your arm.'
Enough was enough. The night he'd met her parents, walking back to an Apparition point in London's Chinatown, he'd glimpsed a ring in a store window. As soon as school was over, he was going to get it. And before the year was over, he'd make sure the both wore wedding rings. He was worried he'd have to beg, but she reminded him: she'd been his before he became hers.
He bent his head to kiss across her collarbone. His progress was blocked by beaded silk and he found he couldn't push it aside. At the same time, he found that he couldn't slide his fingers under the dress at her back. Frowning, he looked up to find her smiling wickedly.
"Modesty charm," she said. "It helps make sure that the only skin that shows is what's intended by the wearer."
He answered her grin. "So that's what McLaggen was trying to do. And failing." Then he frowned. "Bastard."
She chuckled. "I think he got what was coming to him." She kissed him again. Then she said, "Do you like the dress?"
He nodded and ran his fingers up her spine, making her arch.
"That's one thing that I liked a lot."
"What was that?"
She ran a hand around the back of his neck. "Making you choke on your wine." He pulled her closer. "I plan to try to do that again. Hence, no burka."
"Who am I to deprive you of your amusements?" he murmured as he started to kiss a line down her throat. She moaned and leaned back so he could explore lower, and he encountered the modesty charm again. "Please," he whispered. She retrieved her wand to cancel the charm, and he wasted no time nudging the neckline out of the way to reach her breast. He slid one hand below the beaded back to caress soft skin and stopped to look up at her. "What are you wearing under this thing?"
She smiled and arched against his hand, rolling across his lap just so. He was breathless and hard, and she loved having him like this, wanting her. Usually, she would tease him until he was out of control, and she would savor every moment of satisfying him. Sadly, tonight she could only tease him so much. She leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Perfume." He growled and gathered both her breasts into his hands and lavished them with almost enough attention to satisfy her. Then he kissed her dizzy.
"Come with me to Hogwarts," he gasped.
She kissed him back, her hands deep in his hair, and then she rested her forehead against his, short of breath. "I said I'd go to church with Mum and Dad tomorrow," she groaned.
"Damn. And ironic."
His hands were playing with her nipples and she couldn't stifle a moan. "Tease," she said.
"Me? What about you?"
"It's what you get for doubting me."
He wrapped his arms tight around her and buried his face in her throat. "I'll never doubt you again."
She slumped against him to rest her head on his shoulder. "I'll be back relatively early tomorrow. They have dinner guests." She snuggled against him. "This is nice. It's like being a teenager again."
"What is?"
"Snogging on the porch after a date."
"I never did that."
"Well, now you have."
"I prefer being an adult, I think." And then he kissed her until she wanted to be an adult very, very much. Finally, he sighed. "I should go, then." She got off his lap to let him stand and started to brush at his shoulder. "What are you doing?" he asked.
"Glitter. From my hair."
He stopped her hand. "Leave it."
"OK."
He kissed her again, then kissed her palm. "Until tomorrow," he said, his voice low and seductive and she nearly had to sit down. He Apparated away, leaving her alone in the night. It was getting chilly.
Sighing, she went in to the house only to find her mother sitting up in the lounge, reading. "Seriously? You waited up?"
"Let's say I'm still on Brisbane time. Besides, I'm dying to hear what happened." Viola didn't seem at all apologetic. "I thought you might ask Severus in." She caught her daughter's off look and laughed. "I'd have doubts about him if he'd let you go out with another man, even Anthony, and not make sure to remind you just who really loved you."
Smiling, Hermione flopped unceremoniously onto the couch. "He reminded me," she said dreamily.
TO SEE A FUTURE
The next afternoon, when she stepped through his Floo with her messenger bag full of papers, he pounced as if he hadn't seen her in weeks. The bag tumbled to the floor near the couch, rolls of parchment scattering across the rug.
She returned his kisses with equal fervor, practically climbing him to get closer. Somehow, he managed to get her undressed and to the bed without tearing any clothes or dropping her.
She landed among the pillows laughing. "Goodness! You're impetuous!"
He prowled up her body, grinning in his best predatory fashion. "I seem to recall you saying mine was a dream you'd grant," he purred.
"Yours," she purred back. "And only yours."
He started by kissing her mouth as if he hadn't just done so to her enormous satisfaction. He moved from there down her body, lavishing special attention to each breast, and then her navel, and far too briefly, her core, before traveling down her legs to her toes. She squirmed and moaned with delight, and once with disappointment. To her surprise, he turned her over and worked his way back up her body, spending longer on the skin of her back than he had on anything else. She didn't know it, but he was determined to replace the touches on her back of every man who had danced with her last night.
Then he wrapped his arms around her hips and hauled her to her knees, thrusting deep into her body with a growl. She squealed in delight and pushed back with each thrust.
He savored her every gasp and sigh, pushing as deep as he could reach. His hands were all over her body and somehow he managed to lay a trail of kisses down her spine before he felt her walls start to spasm. He followed her climax with a roar. They collapsed into a boneless heap. "So", she said, once she regained her breath, "miss me?"
Later, they had supper in his rooms, and then she groaned and turned to her pile of tests to grade. "Probably not the best idea to take most of the weekend off this close to the end of the year," she groused.
"I doubt the Ministry cares about the school schedule."
"Don't get me started on what the Ministry cares about."
He sat at his desk to do his own grading, and the rest of the evening passed quietly, except for the rustle of parchment, the scratch of writing implements and the occasional exclamation of "Good God, listen to this answer!"
Tea was made and drunk, and he looked across the room at her snuggled on his couch scribbling on her lap desk, nibbling the end of her gel pen. It struck him that he was content. They weren't doing anything special. It was just work. But there was a sense of comfort, of wholeness that he'd never known of. And he was going to keep it forever.