Severus gritted his teeth as another howler approached his place at the head table. With a sigh and a flick of his wrist the missive burst into flames, it's message lost as the red envelope hurled insults in his direction. Not that it mattered in the slightest. That was the thirteenth howler in two days. He had really hoped that they would have died down by now. Seriously, who would have thought? He could not begin to fathom why now the masses had decided to voice their displeasure. He had certainly done some deplorable things in his life, yet never, in all his years at Hogwarts had he received so much negativity.
Taking a deep breath, he swept from the Great Hall without a backward glance. As he stalked off toward his Potion's classroom, he mentally ran over his actions for the past month. Still, like every other time he had tried, he could not come up with a single action that would prompt the sudden onslaught. For a minute, he considered paying a visit to her. She would surely have some insight that perhaps he overlooked. Their last interaction, however, was enough to keep him from following through. She would, most likely, not be the most receptive to him at the moment. With another sigh, he threw back his office door before slamming it behind him. It was going to be a long day.
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Hermione Granger followed her miserable co-worker from the Great Hall in a huff. She had put a lot of work into that howler. The least he could have done was listen to it. Her inner Gryffindor was screaming at her to gather her courage and march down to his office to hash this out. Yet, she knew that would be the worst course of action when it came to dealing with Severus Snape. The man was Slytherin to his core. The brash tactics of her house would be sure to do more damage than good. She needed advice. While, she had a general plan, she would need the keen eye of one of the snakes to make sure that she did not bugger this up. She only one chance to get this right. If she failed, she would lose his respect and what little hope she had for him seeing her as anything more than a foolish child with her hand stuck in the air. It was time to owl Malfoy.
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As fate would have it, Draco Malfoy, had been addressing invitations to his latest soiree when he received her owl. Therefore, it was with little difficulty, that he was able to rearrange his seating plan to seat the two next to one another. She was good for his godfather, and he was determined to help her prove it to him. After all the man had done, he deserved some happiness, and for some reasons he would never understand, Granger wanted to give it to him. After careful consideration, he withdrew another roll of parchment. They had some planning to do, and he would be damned if he would let the Gryffindor Princess muck it all up.
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He was going to kill his godson! Severus silently fumed as he took his seat. His nostrils flared as he took in her scent. Gods she smelled delectable, her perfume flooded his senses and left him reeling. Memories of the last time he had encountered that scent came unbidden the forefront of his mind. Hermione Granger and himself pissed as that damn house elf, Winky, groping one another in his chambers like a couple of teenagers. Fortunately, he had come to his senses and ended that fiasco before it had progressed too far. That did not mean that the thought hadn't crossed his mind a few times in the weeks that followed. Obviously, it had been a mistake to confide this weakness to the Malfoy heir. He had thought that his secret would have been safe with the boy, perhaps he had misjudged him. Taking a sip of his wine, Severus braced himself for the rough night ahead.
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Hermione practically felt the tension radiating off of him as he approached their table. It took every ounce of nerves that she possessed to not abort the plan and flee the scene. She was the "brightest witch of her age!" She could do this! She had to. "Severus," she greeted as her table guest took another sip of his wine. So, he was nervous too, she noted. The small action served to steady her and strengthen her resolve.
"Professor Granger," came his gruff reply.
"Seriously, Severus," she laughed. "We have been on a first name basis for five years now, let's not revert back to formal titles now."
"Fine, Hermione, what can I do for you?" he asked. To the untrained ear, his voice wouldn't convey anything suspicious. Hermione, however, had been observing this man for far longer than she cared to admit. She heard the quiver in his tone.
"Let's dance," she suggested shyly. Draco had told her to play coy, not that she had to try too hard. She was terrified of what might happen if the man saw through her carefully crafted scenario.
"I think not. Surely, there are several young men here that you would rather spend your night with. Perhaps, Mr. Potter," came his quick reply.
"Oh, come off it, Severus!" she snipped. She was tiring of the condescension already, and the night had barely begun. "You and I both know that even if I were so inclined, Harry James Potter only has eyes for your platinum godson. As for the rest of the men here, well, I don't care to spend my night explaining every other word out of my mouth. You, I know from personal experience, at least can manage to string a few words together to make a coherent sentence." As she finished her small tirade she saw his eyes narrow. Shite! That was not a good sign.
"As you wish," came his silky reply before he captured her hand and pulled her to the dance floor.
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That's what this was all about. Now it all made sense. The howlers, the sudden invitation, the cloying perfume, her blood red gown. The little chit was looking for attention. His rejection on the night of her beloved's exit from the proverbial closet must have upset her badly. Still, how dare she?! He was Severus Snape; death eater turned spy. He was not some mindless bloke to play games with. Well, if she wanted to play, she was going to play by his rules. The blood was pounding through his veins, in what he told himself was anger, as he pulled her flush against his lean body. As the band began another song he gracefully lead her around. He could see her pulse racing at the base of his neck, and it took all his self-control to not lean down and kiss it. Perhaps, the wine had been an ill-conceived notion.