Hah! I didn't think this would be ready so soon, but here it is. Read and review--how else do I know if I'm doing well. Story alerts and favorites and whatnot are nice, but reviews are just . . . fantastic.
Twelve
The Great Hall on the night of this particular Halloween Masquerade Ball was certainly a sight to see. The professors had outdone themselves on the Hall's décor, transforming it from a benign dining area to a gothic splendor worthy of any tortured author's imagination.
Simply lit torches lined the walls, held in place by ornate iron twists and spikes. Arches extended from the stone floor to the heightened ceiling, charmed to display a fierce storm of thunder and lightning, tossing dark shadows when the lightning flashed and thunder roared. Gargoyles topped each archway, grotesque faces leering and grimacing over the Hall, supervising the inhabitants of the Hall. The place of the Head table was cleared to make way for a band stage and the traditional Hogwarts podium; smaller, circular tables were arranged in clusters and corners around the Hall, though a table bearing nibbles and light refreshments was placed against one of the longer walls.
The gardens outside the Great Hall had been transformed, too, their terraces and flowers deadened and dour for the occasion. The air was thick with cloudy mists that circled and swerved through the grounds. The roses that Severus would later destroy so callously were charmed a pure jet black and the statues were menacing, demons instead of cherubs, monsters with claws and talons instead of mythical creatures and Greek gods. The Whomping Willow looked dead and dull and the trees by the lake were shrouded in shadows and night.
The atmosphere was, it was later agreed, one of the reasons the Masquerade was such a success that year; each and every student would, in time, enjoy themselves, not that our heroes' table had joined the fun yet.
Severus, Isolde, Hermione and the Devil were all exchanging glances with their respective dates and friends, but the silence refused to abate until the Devil stood and offered Isolde his hand as a slow song wafted through the air.
He brought his hand around her waist as he took the other; her arm snaked up to his shoulder and her head rested on his chest. The Devil rested his head on top of hers, kissing the top of her hair and whispering soft nothings into her ear. Hermione cocked her head as she watched them dance, scanning the crowd for seventh-years to try and figure out who he was as Severus caressed her hand. She turned to face him, concentrating on the Devil's identity as he asked her to dance.
Severus stood, taking her hand as Hermione nodded dumbly, rising with him and placing her arms around his neck as his fell to her back, swaying to the music and pulling her closer. Hermione still flicked through the crowd over his shoulder, smirking when she saw Remus's costume and grimacing when she saw Peter. Lily and James were dancing together across the Hall, which left one Marauder puzzlingly unaccounted for. Where the hell was Sirius Black?
He certainly wasn't on the sidelines with Peter and Remus; they had claimed he was too much of a ladies' man for that. Nor was Sirius with any of his usual girls, all of them were in either Hufflepuff or Gryffindor House and in sixth or seventh year, as he felt nothing but animosity towards Slytherins (except Isolde, at least) and he felt that Ravenclaws were too stuffy and prudish. He also, thankfully, refused to date younger that sixth year, much to many a preteen's disappointment. Having gone through the list of his "usuals," most of whom were paired up with another boy or sulking at their tables, Hermione gave up, frustrated and distracted by Severus's strong grip and warm body and clean scent. Snuggling into him, she caught a quick glimpse of the Devil as he twirled Isolde and caught her again.
That was when it hit her.
It was time for a trip to the Ladies'.
The song ended on a faded, warbling note, giving Hermione enough time to kiss Severus gently on the mouth before telling him that she had to go talk to their erstwhile friend. He nodded once, curtly, transposing himself over Professor Snape for that brief moment; Hermione watched him billow away in amazement, her eyes wide and her heart sick with worry that he would become him.
Either way, it was a head-strong Hermione who went to grab Isolde, nearly dragging the poor girl away from a confused Devil and into the Ladies' bathroom for a quick chat about the identity of her date.
Once a quick Muffliato had been cast, Hermione spoke quickly, a bit frightened of the look on her friend's face; Isolde was no easy-to-push-around Harry or Ron. "Zelda, you might not like this, but I don't want you to get hurt because of your date and I think I know who he is."
Overwhelmed by curiosity and the amusingly supplicating look on Hermione's face, Isolde nodded, her face impassive.
Encouraged by the lack of anger, Hermione continued, saying, "I was looking through the crowd to try and figure out who it was because I was worried (so is Severus, by the way—I'm certain he was doing the same) and I think the Devil is Sirius Black!"
Isolde smiled, transcendent in her joy.
"Good."
Before Hermione could say a word, Isolde turned to leave the bathroom, pausing before she opened the door to say, "Don't tell Severus."
Severus watched as Isolde nearly floated out of the bathroom, a smile on her face and her arms open to the Devil waiting for her. The Devil embraced her briefly before sliding his hand to hers, leading her out to the gardens, Severus glowering at the two of them. His head snapped to the bathroom door when Helene emerged, her brow furrowed and her eyes troubled.
"What did she say?" he asked anxiously.
"She said it was okay. Isolde likes her date, Severus."
"I had gathered that. Who is he?"
"She asked me not to tell you, love. You'll only be more upset if you hear it from me, I promise."
"I don't like it either way."
"I know, Severus. I know. But I think he likes her too. She told me about him before the Masquerade, not that she knew he would be the Devil."
"Oh. Would you like to take a walk with me?" Severus asked, tilting her chin with one long finger, grateful that Helene hadn't seen Isolde and her Devil leave for the grounds. He gave her a soft kiss, his tongue tracing the red lips he had been admiring for so long. Sighing, he pulled away, smirking when he saw her star-crossed eyes open, her acquiescence in the form of a soft smile.
He opened the door for her, holding it until Helene had passed through before taking her arm for a stroll through the rose gardens. "Helene," he said softly, "tell me about you."
The question took her aback. "What? Why?"
"I hardly know you," he said simply. "I wish to know you better than you know yourself, in," here he paused, "every way I can."
Her mind raced, aware of the double entendre in his words and racking her brain for a believable back-story. "Erm . . . I grew up outside of London. My father is from France and he met my mother during a conference between the French and British Ministries. They got married a year later and had me. That's a lot of it, really."
"Tell me more," Severus wheedled, wondering why she was lying to him so blatantly. It was amusing, he thought, to see that she thinks she is fooling me. But why does she feel the need to?
"I never really had a lot of friends, though I did go to the primary school nearby. I couldn't control my magic, really, and I was ugly and far too book-smart. My parents divorced when I was ten, and since my father got full custody, he sent me to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts."
Severus smiled mentally, looking at a nearby rose so that she wouldn't see the disbelief that he knew had been etched on his face. "And your friends there?"
"I had two, both boys in my year. Larry had red hair and blue eyes and we dated for a while, but it didn't work out, thank the gods. He was into Quidditch and had abominable table manners, though he was also incredibly funny and one of the greatest chess players I've ever seen. Don had black hair and the greenest eyes I've ever seen. He was the brother I never had, really. He played Quidditch too, the youngest Seeker in our school. They got me into so much trouble once we became friends, but that wasn't until a little into our first year. I'm always wondering how they manage to do without my color-coded study schedules."
Severus noticed the half-truths, fully aware that both boys were real but that Helene was still lying to him about almost everything. He began to simmer, saddened and infuriated that she felt that she had to lie to him. Helene was still chattering.
"I came here because my father died in a car accident in the beginning of the school year and I had to come here and live with Mum."
"I'm sorry." The words were automatic, fake and probably unnecessary, based on the sweaty palms and the quickened pulse he felt on her wrist.
They opened their mouths at the same time, he to accuse and she to ask about him. Courteously, ever the gentleman (when he wanted to be), he allowed her to speak first. "Tell me about you, Severus. I feel the same way."
Wishing he could confront her now, he told her.
"I'm a half-blood. My mother comes from a long line of Purebloods, the Princes, and my father is a no-count Muggle. When Tobias," he spat the name, "found out that I could do magic, he confronted her and she told him everything. He's hated her and me ever since." He chose not to go into more detail, as her eyes were suspiciously wet, glistening in the moonlight.
"I hadn't any friends, as my father had decided that I wasn't 'normal' enough for school with 'normal' children. Most of my time was spent reading, not that that pleased him either. I was friends with Lily Evans before I came here and we remained such until fifth year when I called her," he shifted awkwardly, unable to meet her eyes, "a Mudblood. It was out of anger. James Potter and his cronies had flipped me upside down after OWLs and everyone could see my . . . underpants. Lily tried to help me and I got mad. She hasn't really spoken to me since."
"Oh, Severus," she sighed, tilting her head up to kiss him. He grabbed her fiercely, holding her as if to save his life, his kiss possessive and deep. Severus pressed her into the hedges, thrusting a leg between hers and drawing a soft moan from her lips. Her hips pressed into his, the arousal between them growing as his hands traveled down to give her bum a soft squeeze. She broke the kiss, giving her attention to his neck, lips trailing between his jaw and his shoulder; his hands ran up and down her body, memorizing the dips and curves, wondering how soft her skin was.
Groaning, Severus regained his control, pulling his head back and pressing her arms into the hedge. "I'm sorry, 'Lene, but I won't be able to control myself if this goes on for much longer." He tilted his hips into her meaningfully and met her eyes, pleased to see a soft "O" of surprise on her face. Severus withdrew his leg, his hands caressing her arms and slowly taking her hands in his.
"When the time is right," he vowed, kissing her left hand. "I promise."
Sirius led Isolde down to the lake, opening the vines of the willow tree for her to enter the little glade, holding her as they just looked at each other, her red eyes sparkling. He lowered his forehead, crashing it into her and nuzzling her gently as she held him tighter.
"Sirius . . ." The breathy whisper hit his ear lightly and his eyes closed, savoring the sound of it. When he opened them, she was still gazing into his eyes.
"I've got something I should tell you, Philomel." He stepped back from Isolde as she wrapped her arms around herself, looking nervous as to what would come. "Close your eyes. You'll know when to open them."
Mentally, Sirius focused on the feeling of Padfoot, his body easily changing into that of the dog's. Barking, he knew, would give the surprise away, so he butted his head against Isolde's hip, watching her eyes fly open in surprise, widening when she made the connection. Isolde knelt smiling, throwing her arms around his neck. "Puppy!"
Sirius changed back in her arms, kissing her check as she did so. "You aren't mad at me, then, Philomel?"
"Never, Puppy. Not as long as you teach me."
He considered it playfully until she jabbed him in the ribs. "Well, I suppose it would be fun to have a bird to run around with."
Isolde rolled her eyes, smiling at the pun. "Thanks, Sirius. For everything."
"Think nothing of it. You're worth everything, Isolde. I mean that. I-I date a lot and I know I've not got the best reputation when it comes to birds like you, but you're not like them, and I mean that in the least clichéd manner possible. I mean, you're a Slytherin and you're quiet and . . . Merlin, just everything."
Isolde met his eyes with hers. Gryffindor red.
"Go steady with me, Philomel. Give me a chance."
She cradled his face, both of them still kneeling. "You never even had to ask. Just don't cock it up, okay?"
Smiling, he kissed her. "I could figure that out on my own," he murmured against her lips. Kissing her once more, a teasing slip of the tongue, he raised her up, cleaning the leaves off of her dress and his trousers before twining fingers and going back to the Ball, each sporting a silly grin, unable to look away from the other for long.
The group had returned to the Great Hall by ten, a mere two hours away from the unmasking. Severus asked Isolde for a dance to gauge her reactions to the Devil while Sirius (still unknown to most of the Ball) led Helene to the floor.
"Is he being . . . proper with you, Zelda?"
She giggled at the absurdity of the question. "Yes, Severus, most proper. Now, would you mind not acting like my father?" Isolde asked pointedly, raising an eyebrow.
He smirked. "Only if you behave yourself."
The straight, impassive face forced Isolde into breaking into laughter, followed shortly by Severus. He hugged her tightly, resting his head on hers and whispering, "Just don't let him hurt you, alright?"
"If he hurts me, then I'll work it out. I'm worried about what will happen if I hurt him," Isolde said, her eyes drifting to find him in the crowd. "I mean, I don't really know all that much about him, do I?" She laughed prettily, prompting a wry smile from Severus.
The dance ended, the two turning their dance into a hug before Isolde stepped out of Severus's arms, giving him a peck on the cheek as she did so. The Devil was by her side in an instant, Helene on his arm; he and Severus traded partners before they focused their attention on their respective dates, Devil and Isolde dancing together and Severus and Hermione moving to get some nibbles and return to their table.
As Hermione collected a small platter of chocolate dipped strawberries and Severus chose a selection of biscuits for them to share, the Marauders were, as ever, up to no good. Having spotted him in the crowd—with a pretty date, no less—it should have been no surprise as to what happened next.
James Potter, unable to forgive the humiliation he had suffered at the hands of Snivellus's friends, drew his wand, murmuring a rather embarrassing charm; his wand was aimed directly at Severus's back.
Without any warning, Severus threw the small plate of biscuits he had so carefully chosen and grabbed both of Helene's hands, getting down on one knee and bellowing like a bull . . . in falsetto.
"Loving you is easy 'cause you're beautiful. Makin' love with you is all I wanna do . . . la la la la la la la. Do do do do do . . ."
"Severus!" she shrieked, pulling her hand away and picking the mediocre singer up off his knees as he continued to serenade her, switching to "The Only Thing that Looks Good on Me Is You," possibly the crassest love song written, in her opinion at least. Well, she thought grimly, pulling him out of the dance, at least it's not about havin' his baby . . . Paul Anka. Hermione shuddered, giving him a pitying smile as she coaxed him out of the Hall (not that it was hard), him following like a puppy and the Devil and Isolde hot on their tracks.
Mentioned: Paul Anka's "Havin' My Babies" (shudder) and Minne Riperton's "Loving You". (Cover your ears, try not to think about it - but I know that it's stuck in your head. Heh. Heh. Heh.)
