Chapter Title from "In the Eyes of the World" by Fleetwood Mac

The weeks leading up to the Yule Ball were a whirlwind of work. Occlumency lessons continued on, Apparition lessons began, the remainder of Rhiannon's sixth year curriculum was completed, and as promised, Snape schooled her in the Dark Arts as her curiosity arose. She still struggled with Occlumency, especially against his skilled Legilimency and with the added connectivity their soul bond afforded them. He pointed out that if she could overcome that truly remarkable magical bond, however, her skills against the Dark Lord were all the more assured.

Apparition came much more naturally. Snape led her to the rolling hills beyond the Hogwarts grounds in order to practice, and simply being one with the earth, sky, and wind again made Rhiannon more receptive to learning something new. She overcame the unsteadiness and the lurching-stomach feeling she'd experienced during her first side-along months ago, and she never even experienced a splinch during practice. She described it to him like being one with the wind— second nature for a true Thunderbird. Snape was grateful for one less worry; when and if the time of battle came, Rhiannon could transport herself without reliance on him, since his presence couldn't be guaranteed.

Dust fell away from the tattered volumes on Snape's highest shelves as he gave in to her insatiable curiosity, allowing her to pour over their contents with his guidance. He removed her initial problem of not even understanding what the subjects meant or what to look for, leading her to the dark spells, hexes, jinxes, and curses she was most likely to encounter— now teaching them from an offensive perspective as well as defensive. He also fed her curiosity for reading on blood, soul, and sexual magic; she seemed surprised to find much overlay with the some of the darker traditions in which she had grown up.

"You're insatiable, girl," Snape scolded her.

It was the evening before the Yule Ball. They had returned from their final Apparition lesson and were warming their frozen limbs by the fire, enjoying its flickering embers rather than resorting to warming spells. Snape sat reading in his armchair, Rhiannon prone on the rug by the fire, pouring over a text with her usual ardor.

"How so?" Rhiannon asked casually. "I've not seduced you in weeks."

"Precisely," Snape replied. "Your ravenous hunger for magical knowledge has conquered all else. You scarcely eat or sleep, let alone come to my bed."

Rhiannon smiled and beckoned for him to join her on the rug by the fire. "I want you to do these things to me," she told him, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Severus raised his eyebrow and eased himself down by her side, glancing at her reading material. She was reading about a particular form of mind-bewitchment similar to that employed in the casting of the Eros Absentia; however instead of being a passive but consenting recipient to the actions of the Authority, the spellcaster drove the actions of their partner as well, through control of their mind. The recipient of the spell was fully conscious of what they were doing, but was completely driven by the will of the leading partner. It was a complete and total submission, usually only practiced through coercion, and was considered a very taboo dark art almost on par with the Imperious Curse.

"You do not want this," he told her, snapping the book shut.

Rhiannon came up to her knees and grasped his arms. "No. I do. I loved you being in control of me last time." Her green eyes were spiraling in the firelight in that mad, possessed way that threatened to bend every last shred of his will.

"I wasn't in control of you," Snape corrected her. "You were still fully in charge of your own actions and could have said no at any time. This is different. This is me becoming you in the sense that I would drive your every movement and thought. Your only self-awareness would be your feelings of arousal and release."

"That sounds fucking amazing," Rhiannon breathed, straddling him, her mouth hot on his ear.

"Why in Merlin's name would you want to give that kind of control to me? This isn't a spell you do for fun— this is something used by dark wizards to exert sexual dominance over their victims. It isn't a bedroom game."

"It could be our bedroom game," she pressed, her thumb tracing his mouth, her hips starting to grind against him. He took in a sharp breath. Having gone without her for weeks now, the sensations within him were escalating quickly.

"Besides, it would be a good memory for you to have for...interrogation," Rhiannon suggested. "You can show him you're really putting me in my place."

Snape shook his head in disgust. "Do you realize what you're suggesting?"

"If you mean my relation to him then yes. You said he's already seen it. It's revolting, but it's a fact we can't escape. Might as well put quality stuff there to use as collateral, right?"

He lifted her chin and searched her wild eyes. "What has gotten into you?" he murmured. She just continued to smile, her eyes playing with him more than her words could.

The particular brand of magic she was referencing was a favorite of the deranged Bellatrix Lestrange, sometimes-consort of the Dark Lord, who was well known for her...appetites...of various kinds. She was known to utilize the spell on witches and wizards alike— Snape would be willing to bet even a few Muggles— however it pleased her. When the time came for the Dark Lord's Azkaban breakout plan, Bellatrix would no doubt be the first freed.

"It's time to close these books, Miss Aspenfell," he said gravely, his wand taking care of it for her, sending it floating back to its place on the highest shelf. He waved it once more, and an invisible seal was placed upon the entire section with a distinct noise like a zipper and a lock.

"But you said..."

Snape raised a stern finger to her lips. "I also said to trust me. I have to protect your mind. You've absorbed much in a short amount of time, and you need to rest." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his hand tangled in the softness of her hair. He would bleed to protect her— he just hadn't anticipated having to guard her from herself quite so much.

"Now," he whispered, "If you still have desires you need fulfilled...I'm happy to oblige. In a bit more traditional manner."

Rhiannon nodded and responded with an open mouth kiss, sending Severus spiraling back into the divine euphoria of the witch's clutches.

Rhiannon fiddled nervously with her hair, gazing at her blazing scarlet reflection in her bedroom mirror. Her green eyes shone brightly against the red dress, perfectly fitting for the occasion. But she still wondered how Severus would receive the bold Gryffindor red with its sleeves alluding to proud, sparkling Phoenix feathers. She pinned her hair entirely up for the evening's ball, diamond teardrops she had transfigured from actual tears dangling from her earlobes. She was quite proud to have mastered that particular conjuring, having read that it was a skill thought to be unique only to vampires. Her mouth was stained an even deeper red than her dress, and her eyes were made up in various shades of green with dark black liner. It was a dramatic look compared to her normal more earthy appearance, but it seemed appropriate since tonight marked her transition into a virtually new person.

"Come in," Rhiannon said to the light knock at the door, clearing her throat. She stood nervously and watched Snape's gaze fall on her. His teeth were clinched and his jaw twitching, but his eyes were unreadable for an agonizing minute.

Never breaking his gaze, Severus crossed the room to her, his long fingers falling upon her waist, his mouth bending toward her ear.

"I have decided I will grant your wish tonight."

Rhiannon's breath caught in her throat. "Do we have time now?"

"You know the answer to that, silly girl. Plus when I'm done with you will not look presentable enough to visit animals in a barn, let alone make your Hogwarts debut at a Yule Ball." His tongue snaked behind her ear accompanied by a hot breath that shot its steam through to her very core. His fingers rose to grasp her earring and he examined it questioningly.

"How did you afford these?"

"Transfigured for free," Rhiannon responded proudly.

His eyes were dark. "How, without blood magick? No human can do this spell. Your appetites for food and wine, namely garlic, tell me you are no vampire, so how was this accomplished?"

She shrugged and continued to smile proudly. "I just tried it and it worked. When are you going to believe me that I am a talented witch, Severus Snape?"

"I have acknowledged it many times," he reminded her, pulling back from her with a sigh. "You just never cease to surprise me. If this is true you're going to be a very rich woman. Perhaps when the war is over we should open a jewelry shop in Hogsmeade," he said dryly.

Rhiannon laughed. "How do you like my dress, Professor?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Chosen to honor your dog, I presume. Don't think you're getting away with it. You'll be sufficiently punished later when I bend you to my every whim."

"Mmm," she murmured, the wetness already pooling in the red lace thong she wore beneath the offending garment. "How long does tradition say we have to stay at this shindig before we bid our goodnights?"

"Well, considering you're the guest of honor, a rather long time," he answered with disappointment. "But you will know when it's time to leave, because I will begin the spell."

"In front of everyone?" Rhiannon asked, aghast. Snape was normally so risk-adverse she wouldn't have imagined.

He gave a smirk. "You won't even know when to expect it."

They donned their coats and departed the dungeons arm in arm, the sweet sounds of violins already pouring through the castle from the ballroom upstairs. Rhiannon wondered what made him change his mind about the mind-control spell, but she didn't dare ask. Severus was giving her what she longed for— the chance to hover once again on that magnificently dark, misty, exquisitely frightening plane of existence— and she refused to say anything that might make him reconsider.

The castle ballroom was a breathtaking gallery of enchanted icicles— authentic in every way, even cold to the touch, but the overall temperature of the room still pleasant. Snow-tipped Christmas trees were the centerpiece of the front of the room, and tables along the sides of the room were filled with a bountiful spread of appetizers, treats and punch. The male students and professors donned their best dress robes, Snape included— his black of course, but a fabric that gave off a raven sheen against the icy blue light. It was tailored perfectly to his muscular form, even down to the cinched waist that excited the imagination with its downward trail. Rhiannon noticed more than one female give him a second look.

Even more students glanced at her of course, immediately curious, the older male students with an element of gawking then a quick confusion as to why she was on the arm of "the greasy git." Rhiannon simply offered them a smile and tightened her grip on Severus's arm, making it clear she was proud to be his date for the evening. That is, until they bumped into Harry Potter.

Harry was chatting with a beautiful black-haired witch in a silvery gown, and he seemed quite smitten. Rhiannon's first reaction, after dropping Snape's arm of course, was to look for Ginny. Ginny was twirling and laughing with a handsome young man herself, so Rhiannon assumed her crush on Harry was a thing of the past.

Harry looked briefly in Rhiannon's direction with a blink of surprise. "Um, hi," he said uneasily, eyes moving from her to Snape and back, clearly not sure what he was allowed to say.

"Hello, Harry. Happy Yule Ball," she said warmly. "I've heard so much about you," she added for good measure. "It's truly an honor."

"Potter, I believe you saw Professor Aspenfell a few weeks ago when she was touring Hogwarts," Snape said calmly.

"A new professor?" the pretty girl asked. "What will you be teaching?"

"Patience, Miss Chang, all in due time," Snape responded before Rhiannon could. His style was so straightforward, so commanding, his voice so rhythmic— she had no idea how these girls weren't a melted puddle with this man as their instructor.

Snape took Rhiannon's arm in his possession once again and walked her to one of the buffets, advising her to eat before Dumbledore's big announcement made them the center of attention for the remainder of the evening.

"I don't appreciate you distancing yourself from me for Potter's benefit," he snapped at her, filling his plate with crackers and sliced beef. "He will have to get used to the idea of us, as will his godfather."

Rhiannon filled her own plate with smoked salmon and asparagus spears. "I don't even know if he knows, yet, Severus. I know Sirius does. He wrote me a letter. But I'm sure no one's told Harry. And Sirius will want to handle it in his own time." She hesitated. "I was thinking Sirius and I would tell him together while I'm at Grimmauld Place for Christmas." She focused on her food instead of Snape's face, waiting for him to have an audible reaction. She didn't have to wait long.

"You think I'm just going to let you go live with Black for two weeks?" Snape hissed. "As if nothing has happened?" He tore angrily at his food, and Rhiannon had to stifle a grin. For someone so poised who liked to make fun of Sirius's Animagus form, Snape was behaving rather animal-like all of a sudden.

Before Rhiannon could reply, they were greeted by a group of their fellow staff members— Flitwick, Sprout, and Trewlaney— giving her their welcome before the official announcement. The latter assessed her atop large spectacles, a look of perpetual dread on her thin, dramatic features.

"Your mighty white steed is charging into a great darkness," she told Rhiannon in an ominous tone. "You would do well to turn it around before it's too late."

"Let me guess— Divination?" Rhiannon asked brightly.

"Not for long, if I can help it," Dolores Umbridge piped up, joining their small group. "Run along, Sybil dear. I need a chance to catch up with Professor Aspenfell."

If Rhiannon's gown resembled a Phoenix, Umbridge's resembled her beloved feline companions. It was a brown sequin getup adorned with black and orange abstract stripes. Rhiannon wouldn't be surprised to see Fred and George pass by before the night was over and transfigure a tail right on the back.

"Lovely to see you, Dolores," Rhiannon greeted her. "I hope I may call you that?"

"Of course, dear. You must pay me a visit before start of second term. I need to give you a list of students to keep an eye on. Though I'm sure Severus has already given you an exhaustive list." She surveyed Snape with an appraising eye, clearly surprised like all the others to see him clean up so nicely.

"Indeed," Snape confirmed.

They were rescued from further interrogation by a tapping of a glass so thunderous it could only be made by magical means. Dumbledore ascended the platform by the icy Christmas trees, prepared to make his address.

"We're not finished discussing your winter holidays," Snape muttered to her, firmly grasping her arm and escorting her closer to the stage.

"I assumed as much. You could come with me to Grimmauld Place, you know," she whispered back.

Snape snorted. "I'd rather spend Christmas with your father."

"Well, I'm sure that's also an option."

"Who the hell is that with Snape?" Rhiannon heard an abrupt young voice near them inquire as they moved. She noticed an angry looking but handsome young man with white blonde hair staring them down. His dress robes were expensive and unmistakably Slytherin.

"Watch him," Snape advised quietly, barely moving his mouth. "Stay on your toes whenever he is watching."

"He looks like a little turd," Rhiannon replied disapprovingly. "What could he possibly do to us?"

"Ruin everything."

Rhiannon continued to cast furtive glances at the boy, seeing only false bravado but nothing threatening. Still, she trusted Severus completely and would do as told.

Dumbledore continued to ramble in the background with pleasantries about the joy of the season, while Rhiannon focused instead on the powerful feel of her companion's arm through hers, the clean, earthy scent of whatever he had bathed in for the occasion, and that damn way his dress robes called so much attention to his narrow waist, strong legs, and firm behind. She was throughly ready to submit to him for part two of the evening.

"So without further adieu, I do have an exciting announcement to share with you tonight."

Rhiannon's attention finally turned to Dumbledore, dressed in intricately embellished robes like some ethereal Santa Claus.

"We will be adding a new class into your rotations for next semester, so you will all see your schedules amended somewhat upon your return from winter holiday. The new course will be entitled "Practical Magic" and will cover everything you all need to succeed in your home life as you embark on your future careers. Teaching this new course will be none other than international celebrity author, Rhiannon Aspenfell." His twinkling eyes fell on her, and a bright light shone on her from the ceiling above. Rhiannon put on her most dazzling smile and gave a wave.

A murmur fell over the crowd, and Rhiannon was surprised that it generally sounded like they recognized her name— gasps, claps, and excited whispers like they all somehow knew of this celebrity Dumbledore spoke of.

"Your book has been circulating around the library and in Diagon Alley," Snape explained in a low voice. "Minerva may have inserted a memory or two in some students during class as well, though she would never admit to it."

What a charade, Rhiannon thought, unsure she was worth all this. All because of who her parent happened to be.

"To celebrate adding Miss Aspenfell to our esteemed roster, I would like to invite her to lead us all in a waltz. Accompanying her will be Professor Snape."

Snickers, outright laughs, gasps, and a gaggle of wide eyes filled the room, but Rhiannon blocked them and tuned only to the sounds of the swelling violins. One of Snape's hands came to her crimson clad waist, the other grasping her hand firmly, his stance straight and confident as he led their movements. He had failed to ask her in advance if she could dance, but luckily she had some natural talent and was able to follow him well enough. His face was intent on hers, neither smiling nor frowning, his eyes locked not unlike they were where he made love to her. Their blackness filled her with a heat only broken by the icy radiance from the walls as they whirled by in circles throughout the room.

The murmur of the crowd slowly turned into one of approval; a few whistles and claps could even be heard as the stunned students saw this new side of their terrifying Potions Master. Slowly other couples joined in, until the entire ballroom became like a music box of twirling figurines.

Rhiannon noticed Harry craning his neck as he and Miss Chang danced near them at one point, his brows furrowed and mouth half open as he tried to understand what he was seeing. The boy clearly couldn't deduce if what he was seeing was an act of purely professional Order business, or if the appearance of romance between his two professors was actually real. She could feel Sirius's presence almost hanging in the air between them with her and Harry's shared love for him. Rhiannon looked away, her eyes falling on Snape's dress shoes moving so expertly across the ballroom floor.

"When did you learn to dance like this?" Rhiannon asked him.

"The Heads of Houses have to teach all of the students whenever a Yule Ball is held. I was taught by Horace Slughorn," Snape replied. "Some time when you need a laugh, I will show you the memory."

She laughed. "So you dance like this with your students?"

He seemed to blush a bit. "I have to choose one to demonstrate, yes."

Rhiannon started taking mental inventory of the room. "Who is she? Show her to me."

"Don't be silly."

"No! I want to know."

Snape sighed and scanned the room for a moment as they continued to waltz. "There," he said, annoyed. "In the black. Red hair."

The seventh-year Slytherin student in question offered them a sly smile as they passed, seeming thoroughly content in the arms of her handsome brown-haired partner but also curious, even a bit turned on by the electricity she could sense between her head of house and the new professor. Rhiannon's intuition told her that the girl's lucky young partner would be getting well and truly shagged that night, especially with their head of house otherwise occupied.

"Naughty thoughts," Snape admonished her, penetrating her mind without warning.

"Like you had when you danced with her, I'm sure," Rhiannon murmured back. "Should we invite them to join us? They are seventh years."

"Fuck, woman, do your appetites have any bounds?"

"Nope," she whispered in his ear.

"Well, I refuse to share you any more than you've already made me, so you can squash those thoughts immediately." The song changed from a waltz to a more modern slow dance, and Snape pulled her so tightly to him that she looked around with a blush. It felt like the eyes of the entire world were on them.

Rhiannon glanced at Harry warily, and she saw a wave of anger cross his face. In that same moment he seemed to grasp at the scar on his forehead. She wasn't sure what that meant, except for a vague recollection of strange visions involving her father that Sirius had mentioned. She didn't have time to dwell on it before a strange sensation grabbed hold of her. It was like being a victim of legilimency but different— much more invasive, much more intense. All at once she was up on her toes, her lips locked onto Severus's, her fingers buried in his long black hair, gasps and laughter filling the room around them.

Pull back, a gnawing sensation in the back of her head seemed to scream. But she couldn't. Snape's tongue was invading her mouth in a way wholly inappropriate for a school dance, but she could do nothing to stop it. It thrilled her and humiliated her at the same time.

Severus pulled back from the kiss, a look of mock surprise on his face as he pretended to wipe his lip, acting as if it were the first time they had done such a thing. Rhiannon could feel anger at him building within her, but it was promptly extinguished like a cigarette beneath a heavy boot.

Umbridge was approaching them with haste, Dumbledore not far behind, though he was smiling and encouraging everyone to continue enjoying themselves.

"Miss Aspenfell, did I or did I not stress the importance of propriety?" Umbridge asked through clenched teeth. She took Rhiannon's arm aggressively and strode with her to the corner of the ballroom, careful not to make too big of a scene to any remaining spectators. Snape followed smoothly behind them.

"It was just a kiss, Dolores," Rhiannon heard herself reply. "Truly harmless. A positive display of affection. When you're as in love as I am with Professor Snape, it's simply a natural thing. I do apologize if I have offended you." She could see Dumbledore eyeing her and Severus suspiciously, obviously knowing something was amiss.

"Perhaps a bit more discretion would be advisable," Dumbledore agreed. "Severus?"

"Yes," Snape nodded. "I will see to it that she learns to follow our standards of decorum, Professors. May we bid you good evening?"

Umbridge seemed to want to press the matter further, but Dumbledore nodded and waved them away, still eyeing Rhiannon for answers. She swore she could feel him try to tap into her thoughts, but Severus had them under lock and key. Concern clouded the elder wizard's face, but he turned his attention back to the students and the Yule Ball.

"Come, my love," Snape said with a grin. It was the only time Rhiannon had ever seen a full smile on his face. "I believe we have an interesting night ahead of us, yes?"

Rhiannon opened her mouth but of course could not speak. He only permitted her to emit a small whimper. The slight awareness that he was teaching her a lesson creeped into her mind, a quick warning he gave her to make sure she knew everything about to transpire had a purpose. For the first time since she'd been given into his charge, Rhiannon was scared of what lay ahead.