"Are you going to the ball, Professor?" Pansy Parkinson asked as they walked down the hallway towards Ghoul Studies together. Pansy was early, since her last class wasn't too far away, and she and all of her friends had been buzzing about the ball since it was announced that morning. Besides, she liked Hazel, at least as much as any of the Slytherins liked professors from other houses. Hazel taught them new and interesting things, and she wasn't the kind of professor to feed into the stereotypes about Slytherins. The jury was still out about whether or not that had anything to do with Snape, but the Slytherins seemed to like her all the same.
"Of course, Miss Parkinson. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Professor Flitwick enchants the most clever decorations, and the House Elves outdo themselves every year. At least they did when I was in school." She unlocked the classroom door, holding it open for Pansy and the stack of books she was carrying. "I expect it will be even better this year, since we have important guests to impress."
As Pansy set up her things at her desk, she had another question. "Are you going with Professor Snape?"
Hazel turned back to look at her from where she had been writing on the chalkboard. "What makes you ask that, Miss Parkinson?"
"Well everyone knows about you two. All of the Slytherins do, at least. He smiles every time someone mentions you, and everyone knows Professor Snape doesn't smile. Okay, maybe when we win at Quidditch, or if someone pulls off a potion perfectly, but it's not that often. Besides, he was looking at you when Professor Dumbledore made the announcement. You were looking at Dumbledore, but Professor Snape looked at you right away, and then back to Dumbledore. We've all been wondering." Hazel smiled to herself as she went back to writing. A group of Slytherins had come in, their cacophony of a conversation drowning out any answer she would have given.
Potions class later in the week went similarly for the Slytherins, but this time it was Draco Malfoy who broached the question. While their cauldrons were simmering and Snape was making his rounds, Malfoy stopped him, ostensibly to ask if his potion was the right color yet. "You need more crushed snake fangs in here," Snape answered, peering into the cauldron. "It should have turned a pale blue by now. You are a couple of shades off. Try to match the ashwinder egg on your desk."
"Professor." Malfoy caught him before he could swoop over to the next set of students. "Are you going to the ball next week?"
"Yes, Malfoy, I will be chaperoning. Why do you ask?" He could feel a couple of the nearby groups looking at him. Even the Gryffindors were watching now, pretending not to listen in as they worked. Clearly they had been talking about it when he was out of earshot.
"I was just wondering, sir - Have you asked Professor Ashmore yet?"
"She will be chaperoning as well, but I would advise against asking her for a dance, Mr. Malfoy." He peered into Harry, Ron, and Hermione's cauldron, about to offer a scathing remark when Malfoy interrupted him.
"No, sir, I meant have you asked her to go with you?"
Snape turned back to him, all eyes now focused on the pair. The only noise in the classroom was the steady bubbling of cauldrons and the occasional crackling of flames. No one dared to speak. "Why ever would I do that?"
"Please, sir, we all know about the two of you," Pansy insisted from where she was working. Millicent Bulstrode, who was working with her, nodded vigorously. "She's in the Slytherin common room sometimes, and we know you go to see her when it's not your night to patrol the corridors. Besides, we've all seen you two talking. A lot. And the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you... We - we just thought it would be nice." She talked fast enough to keep him from getting a word in edgewise, not that he would have tried. He wanted to know what they knew. "I may have asked her the other day if you'd asked her yet, and she may have said no, and I may have told Draco about it..."
"Miss Parkinson, while I do appreciate the sentiment, I do not need you muddling about in my personal life. Three points from Slytherin for that. Any further mention of the ball or who I may or may not be attending it with will lose you even more. The same goes for all of you. Now you had better add that shredded fern to your cauldron before it boils over." And that was that. There would be no more discussion of the ball - at least no more asking Snape about it - in Potions class.
Naturally, the ball was the talk of the school, but what was brewing between some of their professors ran as a swift undercurrent. Before long even the Hufflepuffs were whispering about it. Everyone had found their dates in a hurry, if they were bringing one and not just going in a big group of friends. Everyone, it seemed, except for the two people who the entire castle knew simply had to go together. When they found themselves as the last two leaving a staff meeting one evening, Snape took his chance. Instead of heading for the dungeons, he and Hazel kept talking as she made her way back to Ravenclaw Tower for the night. They paused outside of the door, Snape suddenly faltering. "Sev, can I ask you something? Actually, we'd better talk inside." She pulled him into her rooms, none of the Ravenclaws noticing them as they passed through the common room.
"What's wrong?" He could read it on her face as soon as they were out of the corridor. Something was definitely bothering her.
Casting a final glance towards the door, she confided, "It's Alastor. Something feels off about him. I - there was a group of us, his favorite trainees. We knew him as best as anyone could know him. I don't know what it is, but something feels off."
"He certainly has his hands full keeping an eye on me. And Karkaroff. Moody doesn't trust either of us," he answered. "I'm sure it's just the ex-Death Eaters in the castle and the tournament getting to him." Hazel sighed, but she accepted it. The Moody she'd known a few years before wasn't the same man as he was now. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you, by the way. Are you going to the ball?"
"Yeah, I'm supposed to make sure no one drowns in the punch bowl or fights each other over something idiotic. Do you remember that fight that broke out in our seventh year? Awful business."
He nodded, biting his lip as he mulled over the question. "Would you like to go with me? I know you're going already, and that we're all just going to chaperone, and... well, I thought it would be nice, even if it doesn't change a thing about the actual ball. So... would you like to go with me? And not just be there... with me." He finally met her eye, registering the second she smiled.
"That sounds lovely." She leaned in to give him a hug. "I have to be there early to help set up, but I'll meet you in the Great Hall, alright?"
"Great," he nodded, reaching for the door. "I need to be going, but I'll see you at breakfast."
"G'night, Sev."
"'Night." He took off for the dungeons, buoyed by the thought of the ball in a couple of days. Not even Peeves, who had taken to unscrewing a chandelier in the Potions corridor, bothered him very much.