Il Ballo Della Morte

GabNSnape

Disclaimer: GabNSnape own nothing. Except the way the words are placed together, and sentences, paragraphs---you get the idea. The toys we play with belong to JK Rowling. No money is made, and we promise to put the characters back when we are done. Oh, and no Snapes were actually harmed in the writing of this fanfic. If you're squeamish about graphic scenes of violence- might want to cover your eyes and find some nice little fic to read. Cause, honey, this one ain't for you.

Summary: The Dance of Death- Hermione's parents are murdered by Snape during a Death Eater Mission. In grief, Hermione turns to her Professor for comfort. In guilt, he surrenders. A love blossoms between them, but will that love be enough when Hermione discovers the truth?

Rating: R

Chapter One

The Vision

A black leather boot stepped onto the cheery welcome matt of 52 Lanry Drive, followed closely by two other sets. The lead pair paused, causing the heavy black cloak to swirl around the ankles like a thick black shroud. An omen of what was to come.

"Alohamora."

The quiet command, in a low voice which seemed to move over the air like silk, caused the shiny brass knob to click open. The figure laid a gracefully pale hand onto the door and pushed. It gave way easily, and the boots stepped off of the matt and into the dark and quiet house. The brass nameplate on the side of the door was only revealed after the last Silver mask had passed.

Granger.

A creak sounded as one of the boots stepped on the weakened spot. It attested to the house's long and peaceful life for the family inside. Currently, that family was upstairs, slumbering peacefully. The lead Death Eater paused to take in the shadowed sights, illuminated slightly from the muggle street lamp outside. His eyes passed over an empty and cold fireplace, with pictures upon the mantle.

He tore his gaze away to focus on the modest but elegant sofa. White with tiny blue country flowers spread throughout in a country kitchen feeling motif. The muggle box was tucked away in the corner, obviously not as used as the four giant bookshelves beside it.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to control his churning stomach. Somehow, invading someone else's living space seemed akin to rape in his mind. Perhaps because he valued his own privacy so much.

The second Death Eater pushed him towards the stairs.

"Stop delaying, or are you changing your mind?"

He turned towards the figure masked and disguised the same as himself. With the notable addition of a serpent shaped cane.

"I hate repeating myself. I told you before I would be more than happy to do it," the lead masked man hissed.

The second tilted his head upwards. "Well, they aren't down here, are they?"

A small derisive snort sounded from the lead as he gripped the banister in those same long tapered fingers. The knuckles were a bit whiter than the rest of the pale skin, and they seemed to cling to the wooden rail like his life line.

Each step was an agonizing realization that there was no going back. There was no colorful deceptive words that would get him out of this one. Voldemort was becoming unpleased with his lack of 'participation in the cleansing'.

When he reached the middle stair, a loud groan from the wood caused him to stop and listen. Tensed, waiting, he held his breath for several moments. No sound but a man's muffled snore from a room beyond. He exhaled himself, wondering if it would have been better if they woke up and attempted to escape. Not that any had before.

The rest of the ascent was silent, since his two companions- it was amazing anyone could sneer that word in their mind- were careful to miss that particular step. They all held their wands out before them, as they stealthily moved down the hallway.

There were four doors, two on each side. One window at the very end of the hall, and he marked it for possible escape should that be necessary. There was no light to help them in navigation, since the owners obviously knew their way well in the dark.

"Lumos."

He muttered silently, trying not to wince as his eyes adjusted to the soft ambient blue glow.

There was a small table, knee high, ahead of him. A vase of violets resting on top. He carefully stepped around it, noting the mirror above as the silver mask flashed before disappearing as he made his way forward.

He came to the first door on the left, turning the knob as quietly as he could and pushing it open. He glanced inside, then, waved his wand in. Lavatory. He left the door cracked open as he turned to the others and shook his head.

He went to the door across from that, and did the same as before. This time, there was a bed situated against a far wall. Covered in a white comforter with frills of lace around the bottom. A decorative headboard was above it, with flowers curving around. A small brown teddy, was it's only occupant.

From what he could discern from a quick glance at the bookshelves and vanity mirror, this was a girl's room. Unfortunately, he knew whose.

Again he stepped out and shook his head. The second man made his own way over to the second door on the right, and pushed it open. Whispering a lumos and looking inside. After a minute which seemed to stretch on forever, his mask re-appeared and he shook his head.

It was the leads turn again, and he stepped over to the final door. It seemed, this was the one they wanted. His hand found the knob and turned- he looked inside.

As if he was underwater, everything seemed to slow and become a dance. The large bed of mahogany wood was in the center. A loud snore emitted from it. Two lumps were discernable, with a long pale arm draped across. Feminine and with a modest diamond glinting back in the blue light.

He motioned with his hand as he pushed the door open, heart speeding up at the small creak from the hinges. His leather boots took the steps over the thresh hold. The objects around him seemed fuzzy- he barely recognized the dresser and antique armoire, the large body length mirror. His vision was fixed on the couple who laid peacefully sleeping. Unaware of the intruders within their very sanctum.

As the other two cloaked figures slipped into the room, the man's snore caught. The first Death Eater waited, watching as the man turned over. The bed springs creaking slightly as he turned towards the wall. It was silent. Then, the snoring resumed.

The lead looked over to the second, who nodded.

With a deep breath in, he pointed his wand at the man.

"Avada Kadavra."

A green glow made the three masked men silhouettes of a dark shadow as it lit the room.

And, far away, in the Gryffindor Dormitories, Harry Potter jolted up in bed- and rubbed his scar.