Bliss of Another Kind
She fidgeted on the outskirts of the dance floor, listening to the thumping baseline of the Weird Sisters as it resonated throughout the Great Hall of Hogwarts. With the lights dimmed, the ice-palace themed room appeared resplendently gothic and cave-like.
A swirling mass of students jumped and gyrated to the beat of her favourite band, and she noticed one of the Weasley twins dancing exuberantly with a girl whom she recognised as the talented Chaser from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
However, she had not attended the Yule Ball to watch youngsters partying the night away. The man she hoped to see had left the Great Hall some time ago, and she scanned the room fretfully, trying to discern a tall, black-haired wizard skulking in the shadows. She wondered if he'd escaped his duties to hide in the dungeons, away from the noise and the multitude of raging teenage hormones.
She might soon reach the point where she'd have to make a choice – search the castle for the Slytherin Head of House, or leave the ball before her desires got the better of her. If she departed now, she could return to her job in the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports unruffled and unfulfilled, but that would be a disappointment of colossal proportions. She had been waiting years for this opportunity. Many years.
Just as the thickening raincloud of doubt almost quashed her final ray of hope, Professor Snape appeared at the door to the Great Hall, striding in from the wintry snow outside. Igor Karkaroff followed several feet behind him.
The renewed sight of the Potion master stole the breath from her lungs. His dark, imposing form swept across the room, scattering students in his wake. He looked exactly how she remembered from long ago, and the black look on his features suggested he was in no mood for conversation, let alone frivolity. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Presently, Snape arrived at the drinks table and helped himself to a Firewhisky. She watched his thin lips savour the first mouthful and his fingertips caress the crystal tumbler. Moments later Karkaroff caught up with him, breaking his moment's peace.
She didn't imagine Snape's countenance could darken any further, but, as conversation resumed, his annoyance swelled like a gathering storm. It seemed Snape's patience was being pushed to the limit and so, when the Weird Sister's song reached its crescendo, she decided it really was now or never. She could, at the very least, provide him with an escape route. That thought alone gave her courage to traverse the dance floor and approach her former Potions master.
She held herself tall and walked resolutely towards the two men, mentally rehearsing the words she'd planned during the hour previous. The maelstrom of butterflies in her stomach was more akin to a swarm of moths fluttering around a lantern. She wondered vaguely if she would get burnt in the process, and be left wounded and stunned by the man in black. She had experienced his stinging rebuff years ago. Perhaps she was a glutton for punishment; time appeared not to have softened him.
Standing now in front of the two men, she heard Karkaroff's voice die in his throat, and thought she saw an expression of relief cross Snape's face as he turned to appraise her.
His bat-like form towered above, around a foot taller than her, and his piercing black eyes studied her intently. A brief moment of recognition flickered across his ashen features: he remembered her. Some of her anxiety waned, knowing she had been memorable enough for this moment.
Realising the time had come to say something out loud, she opened her mouth, only to find her tongue as dry as parchment. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought her voice would fail her, but somehow she managed, "Professor Snape, may I have this dance?"
Karkaroff almost choked on his newly-acquired brandy.
She offered Snape her hand, and the hairs on her arm stood to attention as her gesture crossed the divide. It was as though she had placed herself on an altar, exposed and vulnerable, and she expected his rejection as surely as a boom of thunder followed a lightning bolt. She, like many others, had been on the receiving end of his acerbic and brutal tongue too often to count. But tonight she sensed things might be different. Her timing, for once, might be fortuitous; this could be her one and only opportunity.
Snape's eyebrows rose ever so slightly at her greeting, and his lips parted as he took a contemplative intake of breath. Glittering black eyes darted to his male companion and back towards her again, his gaze lingering on her russet robes and sweeping the curves of her figure.
She knew momentary triumph, until Snape's lip curled into his signature smirk. Then, just when she thought he was about to dismiss her, he nodded curtly and downed his Firewhisky in one mouthful.
Snape leaned towards her and whispered softly, "Severus will suffice."
His utterance was heavy and sensuous, like a rippling black velvet cloak, and it sent a glorious shiver down her spine. Oh, how she recalled that voice. It had the strength to extinguish every candle and oil-lamp in the dungeon, plunging her into a dark, bottomless cavern filled with nothing but the seductive timbre of his words.
She awoke from her trance abruptly when Snape's cold fingers wrapped around her hand like icicles. He led her briskly to the dance floor.
"You have cold hands, Severus," she murmured, a glimmer of a smile gracing her lips.
The Dark wizard heard her, and the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying amusement.
Behind them, Karkaroff turned on his heel and marched out of the Great Hall. Snape's satisfied smirk grew in intensity, and she realised he had only joined her as the lesser of two evils. But still, he was here, standing before her on the dance floor, belonging to her for the duration of one song. She intended to make the most of it.
She quickly caught the eye of the lead singer of the band, and nodded her request to the stage. Her choice of partner clearly bemused the performer, but a cue was signalled to the drummer and bass guitarist, and the haunting baseline of the melody rumbled to life.
Since she had arrived in the castle that evening, she had heard a rumour that Severus Snape could dance.
Apparently, Slytherin House had been forced to undertake dancing lessons prior to the Yule Ball. It was said that the Potion master had arrived for the first lesson with Professor Sinistra, and proceeded to dance a perfect waltz with her, to the shocked surprise of his House. And also, purportedly, to Aurora Sinistra; she had left the room straightening her hat and swaying giddily. Snape subsequently refused to dance again, and spent the rest of the lesson instructing the astonished Slytherins.
When she heard this tale related by a group of sixth years in the girl's bathroom, she hatched her plan to approach the Potions master, and not merely watch him longingly from afar. To dance with him would be a dream come true, after all.
The soft, slow drumbeat interweaved with the bass guitar, and she glanced up at the inscrutable face of her dance partner. He took his free hand and slipped it around her waist, resting in the small of her back, inviting her to step closer. The tingle of her spine vibrated like a succession of tinkling bells, ascending all the way to her neck. She moved towards him and brushed her hand past his chest and onto his shoulder.
The dark, mysterious depths of his eyes captivated her, and she jumped a little when he began to move. She felt her cheeks burn, and knew her complexion surely clashed with the colour of her dress robes. She looked away, attempting to control her nerves.
Snape moved in perfect time to the music and he led her confidently, with a slow subtle start testing her ability to follow. She felt the warmth returning gradually to his hands and ventured to relax in his arms, following the direction of the music. Evocative lyrics drifted in and out of her mind as they danced.
...wonder if I will wander out...test my tether to...see if I'm still free...from you...
She had chosen this song for him. And for her. She cast him another tentative glance, only to be unsettled by his pale, steely face peering down at her. As their eyes met, she had the fleeting suspicion he was reading her like a book. This time, she returned his gaze with determination.
As the drumbeat marked the beginning of the chorus, Snape suddenly turned and let go of her waist, spinning her out onto the dance floor. Taken by surprise, she tried her best to look graceful – as if it was all planned – and spun quickly back into his arms. He pulled her close and their bodies touched, then she saw an expression of superiority cross his face. He was playing with her. Undaunted, she did not pull away.
When he repeated the sequence, she was ready to match him move for move, and they flowed together flawlessly. She had the satisfaction of watching his countenance soften to a glimmer of respect. For a moment, she had the distinct impression that he had noticed her for the very first time.
...lately, I'm into circuitry...what it means to be...made of you but not enough for you...
The tempo of the music died back down and they slowed together. She slid her hand back to his shoulder, grazing his neck with her fingertips. She never imagined they'd be standing so close, let alone allowing a dark, ethereal melody to permeate their movements.
She noticed their twirl on the dance floor seemed to have caught the attention of a few onlookers, and a space had started to form around them. Students were staring with varying degrees of amusement and disbelief. She caught sight of the red-haired Weasley twins whispering to each other and grinning furtively in her direction.
Severus turned his head to one side and pulled her closer, until her head rested against his chest. The aroma of clary sage and black pepper lingered on the wool of his frock coat. She smiled inwardly as his scent evoked one word – the title of the song to which they danced – Bliss.
The ghostly harmonies which mesmerised her now gave way to the seductive intensity of the chorus, but this time Severus did not let her out of his embrace. Instead, he swept her around, holding her securely, their bodies entwined in the song's thumping rhythm.
Ebony eyes shone down at her and dark hair framed his face, shielding them from the outside world. She met his gaze unflinchingly, and the Great Hall seemed to dissolve around them as she became lost in music, gliding around the dance floor in the arms of this tall, dark and fascinating man.
...steady as it comes...right down...to you...I've said it all...so maybe we're bliss...of another kind...
Floating with happiness and unconcern, their bodies moved together through the dangerous and consuming current. She'd heard a similar sensation was experienced by those under the Imperius Curse, and she wondered with a jolt if she were under the curse now, if Severus had somehow... But no, his eyes were glazed and unfocused too. Indeed, Severus seemed more relaxed than she had ever seen and she wanted to bottle the memory forever.
...I said bliss...of another kind...bliss...bliss...bliss of another kind...
Immersed in the sinister sensuality of the song, they barely noticed the guitar chord fading away. Lingering in his arms, it was several seconds before she realised the band had stopped playing. Their faces suddenly seemed very close.
Severus loosened his hold on her. A deep vertical line appeared on his forehead and his heavily-lidded eyes pinched together; he seemed to be weighing up the possibility and appropriateness of another dance, feeling torn between staying and going. Obsidian orbs searched her eyes for an answer.
Her lips parted as the word 'stay' tried to find its way past the Bezoar which seemed to have lodged itself in her throat. However, Severus suddenly tensed, and his expression returned to a cool and impenetrable mask.
She felt a tap on her shoulder.
Looking around, she saw one of the Weasley twins standing behind her, smiling with bravado. Painfully aware of her proximity to Severus, she took a step back and let go of her dance partner.
The red-headed young man stepped forwards and gave a small bow. He addressed Snape formally, "May I cut in, Sir?"
Snape nodded graciously and swiftly turned around, stalking away from the dance floor without a backward glance. With her heart in her throat, she watched his billowing cloak retreating. Her body ached, yearning to follow. She tried hard to keep the disappointment from showing on her face as she met the gaze of the young man stood before her. His expression was victorious, mingled with... was it an ounce of sympathy?
Why on Earth would anyone pity her? She had just spent three enthralling minutes in the arms of Severus Snape.
The young man introduced himself as Fred Weasley, saying, "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't have to dance with that overgrown bat!" He then proceeded to sweep her off her feet with a flourish, and winked cheekily at his twin brother.
From the look of conceded awe on George Weasley's face, she immediately knew there had been an exchange of money between the two Gryffindor Beaters. She was amused to find herself the subject of the wager, and noted that several onlookers were laughing heartily.
As she danced with the audacious Fred Weasley, she caught sight of Snape slinking out of the Great Hall, heading for the stairs which led down to the dungeons.
Her heart plummeted like a raindrop falling from the heavens.