Hermione did not suspect that the first Friday before term started would be any different from every day that had come before. However, while mechanically shoveling bits of omelette into her mouth and reading a French as a foreign language text, she heard her friends giggling excitedly beside her.
"What? Do I have egg on my face again?"
"No! Your face is perfect as always, dear. We're just laughing about our predictions for tonight," Béa said.
"Why? What's tonight?"
"The headmistress is throwing one last party for the teachers before the real work starts," Phœbé added.
"And every year something happens that inevitably gets talked about for the rest of year. We're trying to guess who and what it will be."
"You don't think it will be me, do you?" Hermione's sense of dread was growing.
"You're not much of a drinker and you probably won't dance, so it doesn't seem likely," Phœbé responded.
"Knowing you, you'll probably have found a way to sneak a book into your sleeve and you'll just be standing by the punch bowl, looking pensive," Bea teased.
"Exactly. So, I don't think I'm going to waste my meager salary on you," Phœbé said.
Hermione smiled at her friends before returning to her book. The idea sat with her for a moment before she realized something.
"Wait? Do I have to dress up?" The dread had returned.
"Yes," Phœbé said, matter-of-factly. "What's your aversion to looking nice?"
"Don't you think it's fun?" Béa added.
"It's unnecessarily time-consuming!" Hermione protested. And I had other plans, she thought.
"You don't even have to do your hair though," Phœbé said, motioning to Hermione's cropped locks.
That was true. The last time Hermione had done anything remotely similar, the majority of the time had been spent trying to tame her hair.
"Phœbé can do your makeup, if you want."
"Ooh, can I?"
"You only have to put your dress on. Everything else will be done for you."
"I have to waste one of my fancy outfits on a before-term teacher party?"
"You don't want to look nice for us? Jean, I'm wounded."
"It's not that. That's just one fewer time I can wear a dress."
"If you're that worried about it, you can borrow one of mine."
"No, it's fine. It's fine."
"Good morning, ladies," Sébastien said, seating himself beside them.
"Jean is fighting us about the party tonight. She is mad it's cutting into her precious reading time."
"I never said that!" Outloud, she thought. "You two are putting words in my mouth."
"Just let us help you get ready, Jean. We don't have a lot going on in our lives and we need more excitement," Phœbé said.
"Well, I'm glad I could provide some entertainment," Hermione responded, perhaps with a bit too much venom.
"Once you're there, then you can even read in your corner. We won't even make you dance," Béatrice said in an attempt to sweeten the deal.
"You're going to a party and not dancing? That's like going to a dinner and not eating," Sébastien said.
"You guys actually dance? With each other? Isn't that weird?"
"What? No! It's not in a romantic-way; it's fun!" Sébastien responded. "They don't dance in the English-speaking world?"
"Well, at university there was dancing, but it certainly wasn't the ballroom kind. And the only time I ever danced was at weddings." And at this one, terrible school function.
"What would you even do at parties?" Phœbé asked.
"Stand around and talk?" Hermione said. Only once the words were out of her mouth did she realize how boring that must sound.
"Ha. We don't like each other enough to talk for that long, but dancing, dancing is good. No talking, just moving," Sébastien said.
Dancing with her colleagues? Hermione could not get over the awkwardness of it all.
"I think I left my dancing shoes in the States."
"Is someone nervous to embarrass herself?" Sébastien teased.
"No. What? I just want to read in the corner like they said."
"I could teach you, you know," Sébastien said. It seemed like a relatively innocent thing to say but the way he was looking at Hermione made her nervous.
"Nah, this book is getting to the good part, I can tell I'm going want to finish it tonight."
"Französisch als Fremdsprache? Really?"
"Let Bastien teach you! He's the best," Bea interjected.
"Yeah. Bastien could dance the pants off everyone here," Phœbé added.
Sébastien raised an eyebrow. Hermione felt her face grow hot.
"Oh, alright, but only so you guys shut up," Hermione said, praying that the conversation would soon change.
"If that's the case, maybe I will put my money on you," Phœbé said.
"We're doing that again this year?" Sébastien reached into his pocket. "Ten on her."
"That's not fair. You three are going to meddle so that something does happen to me."
Sébastien walked with Hermione from breakfast. She did not know why her other friends had not followed them but she hoped it was for innocent reasons. Hermione did not dare look at her companion but also felt that also might be too conspicuous, so she resolved to look ahead.
"I was serious, you know?" Sébastien had switched to English.
"Oh?" Hermione said, feigning ignorance. "About which part?" She realized she too had switched to English, something she kicked herself for. She could, after all, articulate herself well in French.
"Teaching you how to dance," he said, turning to look at her with a crooked smile.
"Yes, about that."
"Oh, no, here it comes-the rejection."
"No! It really was sweet of you to offer but I didn't know there was going to be a party tonight and I still had more work to do and I wanted them to stop teasing me."
"It's alright. I understand." Sébastien gave her another half smile. "It's just, I thought you were curious, always keen to learn and master something new."
"Well…"
"Well, what? Is dancing less adequate because you can't learn it from a book? You can't learn everything from a book, you know?"
"So, I've heard, and yet I've been heretofore successful."
"Okay, I get it. I can take 'no' for an answer."
"Thank you for your understanding. It's really nothing against you."
"Don't worry. I won't take it personally. I'm sure you are just afraid you won't immediately excel at it, which while perfectly understandable, is not a good way to live your life."
Hermione stopped, finally daring to meet Sébastien in both eyes.
"Do you fancy yourself some sort of psychologist?"
"Am I wrong?"
Hermione sighed and threw up her hands. "Fine. I'll do one lesson. And you're going to see just how amazing I am at it."
"And even you aren't, that's great as well."
They had reached an intersection. Hermione turned to go to the library and assumed Sébastien would go the opposite direction to his classroom or personal rooms.
"When shall we meet?" she said, turning to walk backward to the library.
"At two? I'm sure your friends will need plenty of time to doll you up."
Hermione did not even want to know what he meant by that.
"Same place?" she said, still walking backwards. At this point she knew the rows of statues that led to the library and was confident her path would be clear.
"As the fencing room? Yep."
Sébastien suddenly had a strange expression on his face and for what Hermione soon grasped. She had run into something. Praying it was not a priceless piece of art, she stood frozen, waiting for the inevitable sound of a crash. Then whatever it was moved, moved past her and into her field of view.
"Oh, excuse me, Professor S- Rogue," Hermione blurted out.
He gave her a dirty look, which to her seemed undeserved considering she had gotten his name right. Then she realized she was still in English-mode from speaking with Sébastien. That or he was mad for bumping into him. Hermione turned briefly to look at Sébastien who was holding back his laughter.
"I'm sorry, Professor Rogue. I should've warned her," Sébastien apologized, in French.
Snape looked at Hermione once more before saying, "Clearly."
Once Snape was out of their sights, Hermione gave Sébastien a playful glare.
"Well, I suppose I'll be on my way. See you at two."
Hermione spun on her heel to continue on her way to the library. She turned when she heard footsteps behind her.
"Are you following me?"
"No. I happen to need to use the library too. Is that a crime?" Sébastien responded, looking nonchalant.
"Why didn't you say something earlier?"
"I never said I wasn't going to the library. Plus it is true that we are going to see each other at two."
After a productive trip to the library, a relatively quiet lunch, and a quick meditation to settle her nerves. Hermione made her way to the emptied classroom.
"I'm beginning to think you like spending time with me."
Hermione immediately regretted saying anything; she was not normally so bold. Why should she assume this man was being anything but nice to her? Sébastien looked almost offended at her comment.
"Of course I want to spend more time with you; you're smart and funny and…"
She snorted. No one had called her funny before. Smart yes, but Hermione was no comedienne.
"Why are you laughing? I've just bared my soul to you and you think it's a joke."
"You think I'm funny? What a warped sense of humor you have."
Sébastien smiled warmly. He was holding his arms out, indicating to her that he wanted her to join him. Hermione looked him up and down, assessing his threat level. It was then she noticed his brightly colored trainers. She walked to him, apprehension in every step. She laced her right fingers in his own and ever so gently placed her left hand on his shoulder. Sébastien responded by touching her back. Hermione tensed then, unused to the sensation, but prayed that her dance partner had not noticed, lest he find her rude.
Sébastien must have sensed her nervousness because he added, "I don't find you ha-ha funny. But you're still funny in your own way."
Oh, God, Hermione thought. What could that mean?
Sébastien suddenly relinquished his grasp on her, just when she thought she might be getting used to his proximity. He snapped his fingers and music began to play from a small speaker in the corner of the classroom. Sébastien resumed his position, but Hermione's attention was still on the speaker.
"How did you do that?"
"Magic? Have you heard of it?"
"No," Hermione said, giving her a meaningful look. "How are you using electronics in here? Magic interferes with muggle electronics."
"Wherever did you get that idea?"
"They never worked at Hogwarts."
"Really? Maybe Beauxbâtons is just a superior school. Did you ever try it?"
"Of course-" Hermione paused. Had she ever tried it? "No, I suppose I never tried. But Hogwarts: A History-"
"Hogwarts: A History? Let me guess, that's a book."
"Yes, so what?"
"You can't believe everything you read, my dear. Now, are we going to dance or are we going to stand here all day discussing the finer points of electrical engineering?"
Sébastien showed her the footwork of the waltz and once she had mastered that, began moving her around the room, counting as he went.
"Do you like music?"
"I suppose so," Hermione so, focusing more on moving correctly rather than on the conversation at hand.
"Do you play any instruments?"
"No," Hermione admitted. She wished she had dedicated more time to music. She knew some theory and could read music, but she had never really put the time to master an instrument. "Why?" she said, brightening a little. "Are you going to teach me that too?
"Because you don't have any rhythm."
Hermione lowered her hand from his shoulder and practically ripped her right hand from his own. She distanced herself from him.
"What? Just a little light teasing."
Hermione turned.
"Hey! I get it; you can't learn rhythm from a book."
"You don't have to act so superior all the time, just because you know more than me! You really think that's why? Maybe I was busy! Maybe I had other things on my mind!" Can't really defeat the dark lord with a clarinet.
"Hey. Relax. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."
Hermione defenses lowered. "Sorry, if I overreacted." Looking at her watch, "I have to go anyway. My beauticians are waiting."
Walking from the empty classroom, Hermione thought on how had she acted. Sébastien was probably right. She most likely had no sense of rhythm. It just irked her that she was not immediately perfect at something, as he had predicted. Moreover, did she not act in the same, self-satisfied way when someone knew less than her. He seemed to genuinely like her. Her chest tightened at the thought. She had every right to engage in a little harmless flirtation, but it still felt wrong.
Phœbé and Béatrice were already waiting at her door when Hermione finally reached her room. Béatrice was laden with an assortment of dresses while Phœbé seemed to be carrying a large makeup bag.
"Hurry up, girl," Phœbé said. "We've got a lot of work to do."
Hermione sat in her desk chair, bracing for the worst.
"Don't look so disappointed, Jean."
"Oh, sorry, I'm not- This isn't about you helping me; I'm very thankful. I just, kind of a had a poor interaction with Seb."
Looking at her vanity, Hermione could see her two friends making faces.
"What happened?" Béatrice asked, as Phœbé began applying foundation.
"I snapped at him when he gave me honest criticism. And then I stomped away."
Béatrice placed her hands on her shoulders, locking eyes with Hermione through the mirror.
"Is that why you're so troubled, dear? You can rest assured Sébastien won't be angry with you. He can be a bit arrogant sometimes and has been met with similar responses. I'm sure he's used to it by now."
Hermione still felt uneasy. Béatrice knew Sébastien much better than she did and was likely not lying. So, what was still bothering her?
"Stop creasing your forehead so hard! You're ruining all my hardwork," Phœbé complained.
"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"
"Relax, dear, we're going to have fun tonight! I'm sure you won't embarrass yourself at all."
"Yes, because that will really make me feel better!"
The conversation ended there so Phœbé could begin the more difficult process of decorating Hermione's eyes. This only left Hermione to dwell on her feelings once more, hopefully with less face-scrunching.
After being poked and prodded for almost an hour, Phœbé finally announced "Alright, you're ready."
"Now to choose your dress!" Béatrice said, excitedly clasping her fingers together. "No pressure, but Phœbé and I both like the green one the best."
Really? What was with all this green? Though she was thankful that she did not have to wear any of her nicer dresses at the first, presumably least formal event of the year. Dresses her friends had been kind enough to buy her. And now she was being presented with a dress that her friends had been nice enough to let her borrow. A dress her friends picked out for her and offered to her after doing her makeup. Her stomach became even more knotted. Am I a bad person, she wondered. Not only was she ungrateful, she was lying non-stop to these wonderful women. She had not even begun dancing and she already wanted to throw up.
Hermione eyed the green garment. She had never worn much green and to her chagrin the dress was distinctly Slytherin green. Hermione would never be caught dead in that shade. Then again, I'm not really Hermione, am I? She picked it up and admired the cap sleeves and lace detailing and thankfully modest outline.
"Okay!" she said. What the hell, she thought. I should at least make a little effort after all they have done for me.
Her friends seemed pleased with her decision as she walked to her bathroom to slip it on. The fit was not exactly right, but Hermione mostly just wanted to get this whole ordeal over with. Zipper undone, she returned to enthusiastic clapping and cooing.
"Will one of you zip me up, please?"
Béatrice rushed forward to help her out.
"Are you not a witch?" Phœbé teased. "Why didn't you just use your wand?"
"Uh… I forgot."
"You forgot about being a witch?" Phœbé was circling her now, pulling on the fabric. "Bea, do you mind if I adjust this?"
Béatrice was now looking into the vanity, lining her eyes. "Yeah. Sure," she said absent-mindedly between strokes.
Phœbé, wand in hand, flicked her wrist. Hermione felt the dress tighten, most noticeably around her bosom. Hermione looked down.
"You'll thank me!" Phœbé said, picking up her own dress to change into.
Phœbé was not as shy as Hermione and began changing in front of both of them, but Hermione turned to give her some privacy. She had no idea what Phœbé meant but she had a funny feeling about it.
"You better not be thinking away all of my hard work, Jean!" Phœbé called, waking Hermione from her reverie.
She drew her attention to her friends. Béatrice had done in her hair in a knot and was wearing an elegant turquoise dress. Phœbé had left her hair down, but curled it slightly, so that her locks hung in waves. Hermione touched her own short hair, self-consciously, eyeing Phœbé's floor-length, maroon gown.
"One final touch," Béatrice said, poking Hermione in the head.
Rubbing her head, Hermione took a peek at her head and saw two glittering pins there. Despite the lifelong struggle with her hair, Hermione wondered if it had been a mistake to cut it nearly all off. Well, she thought, too late to worry about that now.
"Do you need more time to stare at yourself, Jean, or are you ready to go?"
Hermione looked at the clock on the wall, reconfirming her suspicions.
"Aren't we a bit early, though?"
"That's the problem with these parties, dear. We have to set them up and clean up," Béatrice said.
"But remember you are a witch, so you can use magic," Phœbé added with a wink.
Hermione followed her friends from her room, wondering if it was really obvious that she was Muggleborn and whether tonight would be a disaster or a total disaster. Once in the great room, she hid behind her friends and kept her eyes down, not daring to look at any of her other teachers. Following the movements of her friends, she blindly moved the tables away and added refreshments to the surrounding tables. As she was opening bottles of champagne, Hermione saw Sébastien out of the corner of her eye setting up his stereo. She watched him fiddle with the device, held captive by her fascination. She figured he must be doing some volume adjustment since there was no way something that small could successfully be heard in the such a large room. He turned in her direction, at which time she abruptly turned, frantically opening and pouring another bottle of champagne.
They had finished decorating and Hermione felt her pulse quicken. Fidgeting with her dress, Hermione stayed close to her friends, but they soon found dance partners. Soon she heard a cough behind her and she nearly jumped out of her flats. However when she turned to see the offending person, she was met with the characteristic grimace of the Dungeon Bat. He reached out his hand to her. Hermione thought she might have a heart attack right then and there.
"Uh…" Hermione started.
"Miss Gray, I believe this belongs to you."
She looked down to see that he was not offering his hand to dance but rather to show a cork. Hermione gave her former professor a quizzical glance.
"In your haste with the champagne bottles, you hit me with this."
Hermione's hands flew to her mouth. "Sir, I'm so sorry."
Looking again at his face, she noticed his right eye was beginning to discolor.
"What seems to be the problem here?"
The second last person Hermione wanted to see had joined their conversation.
"I-uh-"
"Miss Gray tried to blind me."
"I'm sure she did not mean to, Rogue. She hasn't even begun working with you, so she has no reason to harm you yet. Once she gets to know you, maybe," Sébastien said, with a crooked smile. "If you follow me, I'll give you some bruise paste."
To her immense relief, Sébastien led Snape from the ballroom. She felt her shoulders droop, until she felt a tap on them.
"Would you care to dance?" the Herbology professor offered.
Hermione weighed her options and shook her head vigorously, perhaps a bit too readily, but Sébastien would not be gone long and she would not be able to dance with him if she was already dancing with someone else. She kept her eye on the entrance, waiting for his return. Soon, she realized that the Herbology professor had been trying to have a conversation with her.
"... and that's why the Tibetan Turnip is my favorite species of the Brassica genus."
"Oh, yes, of course. My friend keeps Tibetan Turnips in his greenhouse," she ad-libbed. She was sure Neville had mentioned them.
"Really? Who is he?"
"Oh. Well, you wouldn't know him."
"He must be well-connected to get his hands on Tibetan Turnips."
"Now that you mention it, maybe he doesn't have any. It's hard to keep up with what he's saying, he talks so animatedly!"
The look the Herbology professor gave her told Hermione that she was not getting another dance. Still she found a partner in the Astronomy, Arithmancy, and Ancient Greek professors. This time she focused more of her attention on the conversations at hand, hoping to make a good impression. It would be nice to make more friends, especially when she was interested in their subjects. However, her partners seemed only interested in asking her questions about herself.
After a dance with the cooking professor, Hermione was dragged from the dance floor by Béatrice.
"I'm so proud of you, dear! You were so nervous, yet here you are, dancing with everybody."
"Yes, well..."
"Though I can't help notice that you keep looking at the entrance. Waiting for someone in particular?" Béatrice teased.
Hermione laughed nervously, though she hoped it came across as more of a joking laugh.
"Don't worry; you can tell me anything. I don't gossip much."
"No, I'm just worried Professor Rogue will… not return."
"Oh, because you hit him in the eye with a cork? Yes, I saw that. He's not much of a dancer so maybe he will use that as an excuse to not return."
"That's too bad," Hermione said, rather lamely, though she knew she would still have to deal with him once lessons started.
"Hello, ladies."
This time Hermione was sure that she jumped.
"Ah, Bastien, did you fix up Rogue?"
"Yes, indeed. He'll return once the paste has worked its magic."
Oh, well, Hermione thought. At least he seems content to ignore me.
"You should have seen Jean, Bastien. She was dancing with everyone."
"Is that true?" Sébastien raised a brow. "So much for the theory that she'd be off by herself, eh?"
"Yes, well, I quite enjoy getting to know my colleagues."
"Would you enjoy getting to know me?"
Hermione's heart fluttered. That was quite forward. She did not immediately reach for his outstretched hand.
"Now you choose to be shy."
Plucking up her Gryffindor courage, Hermione joined him on the dance floor.
"Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."
"No, I'm sorry. I overreacted. You're right. I don't have any rhythm."
Sébastien laughed. "I don't know. After all that dancing, you've showed marked improvement."
"Really?"
"Would I lie to you?"
"I don't know. I hardly know you or your character."
"Isn't that why we're dancing?"
"Dancing can hardly be considered a good measure of one's character."
"That's too bad because I was thinking of asking you to be my co-teacher for ballroom."
If Hermione had been drinking, she surely would have spit it out. That proposition came out of nowhere.
"Don't look so incredulous! I need a partner to demonstrate and you're a natural."
"I'm a natural, am I? That's not what you were saying earlier."
"Like I said, all this practice has paid off. So, what do you say?"
Hermione bit her lip, gazing unfocused at the couples swirling beside her. Why was he pouncing this question on her now? Surely there was a better time.
"I've already checked your schedule and you are free then."
She was dumbstruck The music stopped and with it, they did too. Hermione could feel her hands becoming slick with sweat, so Sébastien must have felt it too. She supposed she should be flattered. Either this man really did like her or he at least saw potential in her as a dance instructor. Or, a darker part of her thought, this was all part of an elaborate ruse to humiliate her. Hermione had not spent her entire life as a know-it-all not knowing that she was an easy target for ridicule.
"Would the lady care to dance?" a voice said behind her.
Sensing her opportunity, Hermione turned quickly to accept the man's hand, but only after covertly-at least she hoped-wiping her moist hands on her dress. There was no reason she had to keep dancing with Sébastien, especially if he were to continue asking uncomfortable questions. Eyes locked onto her feet, Hermione instinctively brought her hands into position. It was only after a few spins she realized that she ought to at least look at her partner.
"Oh, sir."
Snape raised an eyebrow at her. His eye no longer showed any sign of discoloration. Was an invitation to dance this punishment for the cork incident?
"Your eye looks better."
"As much as it pains to admit it, Mr. Montclair is an... adequate potioneer."
Only after he spoke did Hermione recognize the characteristic buzz of a muffliato. Hermione nodded dumbly.
"Béa-Béatrice-Professor Martin said you don't dance, but you dance quite well."
"And you do not."
Crestfallen, Hermione continued to move, or at least try, in time with the music.
"Professor Montclair said I was good enough to teach ballroom dancing with him."
"And you trust this man?"
"He hasn't shown me any reason not to."
"Really? In the library, you implied that you couldn't trust anyone here."
Hermione stayed silent. The infuriating man was not wrong.
"You certainly looked thrilled to be dancing with him," Snape added.
"He had just asked me about the teaching position. I was merely mulling it over."
"Mulling it over? I only saw abject terror."
"I'll admit I was caught a bit by surprise." Hermione looked him in the eye. "Why did you ask me to dance if you think I'm so terrible at it?"
"I simply wanted to say that no amount of partying will excuse you from being in my office at eight sharp tomorrow morning."
Really? She had heard nothing from him these past couple of weeks and now he wanted to meet her at the crack of dawn after a night of drinking and dancing? He was truly an insufferable bastard.
Hermione was saved from further interacting with her former professor by the diminuendo. She scanned the room to find her target loitering by the champagne glasses. She did not know when she had been less confident in a decision.
"I've thought it over and…" Hermione was losing her nerve. "I would be honored to be your co-teacher."
"Excellent," he said, toasting her with his champagne glass, spilling none.
It was only after Sébastien replied in English that Hermione realized she must have been speaking her mother tongue as well. She hoped he did not find the decision too odd, but dismissed any concern since Sébastien used any opportunity to show off his English ability.
"Do you… want the next dance?"
"One dance with Rogue and you're already coming back to me? Was he that bad?"
Yes, Hermione thought, you could say that.
"It's a bit weird, isn't it?" Sébastien asked her on the dance floor.
"What is?" Hermione asked after Sébastien provided no further explanation.
"Rogue."
Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. She was done talking about her former professor. Sébastien continued.
"I've never seen him dance with anybody and out of nowhere, he asks you to dance."
"We are to be working together. Perhaps he wanted to get to know me better and as you said, dancing is a social lubricant."
Sébastien looked offended. "I said no such thing."
"No, well, not in so many words, but that's what you implied."
"I didn't say lubricant."
Hermione laughed. Sébastien's eyes crinkled.
"So, when are these classes?"
"Tuesdays and Thursdays, after lunch."
"After lunch? Shouldn't we wait a bit longer before we work out?"
"We won't be doing the most strenuous exercise, but if you start to feel nauseated, tell me and I'll hold your hair."
Hermione thought that that might be just another odd thing uttered by Sébastien until she remembered her short hair. Sébastien was looking at her expectantly before she added, "oh, you were making a joke."
"This is what I meant by you being funny. You're so serious; it's funny."
Hermione spent the rest of the evening and night dancing with Sébastien and chatting with other teachers. As she walked from the hall, shoes in hand, she realized that she had not seen Snape the rest of the night.
"That was fun, wasn't it? Wasn't worth all of the grumbling?" Béatrice said, coming up behind her.
"No, I suppose not," she admitted to Béatrice and to herself.
"And you didn't even embarrass yourself that much."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You practically only danced with Sébastien!"
"No, I danced with everyone."
"Okay, but you only danced with him after that. Are you crushing on a certain Potions Master?"
Hermione looked around wildly, praying that Sébastien was still chatting with the Herbology professor, out of earshot. Though, admittedly, she much preferred to be teased over Sébastien than Snape.
"Don't worry. He's not around. So, are you? You can trust me."
Hermione laughed. "No, it was a practical matter, since I'm going to be teaching with him."
"If that's the case, then you ought to have danced with Rogue just as long."
Hermione dropped her smile, but quickly recovered it. "Except I won't be teaching dance with him."
"Maybe he wished you were. He left just after you finished dancing with him."
Hermione scrunched her eyebrows together, surely destroying all of Phœbé's hard work.
"Not to mention that he's never danced with anyone before."
"You're mistaken. He just wanted to give me a message."
Or to make me mad. That was the Severus Snape she knew. Perhaps he saw her and Sébastien's rapport and felt the need to interfere to make them both angry. After all, he seemed to dislike Sébastien, but he also seemed to be adept at hiding it.
Hermione made it to her room and threw off her clothes. Scrubbing her face and teeth, she slipped into a large t-shirt, before cuddling under her covers.
Awakened by the light and the beginnings of a throbbing headache, Hermione lay motionless, enjoying the warmth of her comforter and Crookshanks. Was there anything better than the feeling of having nowhere to go? And then, with a jolt, Hermione remembered that there was somewhere she was expected-Snape's office. Pulling on a pair of rumpled jeans and almost breaking her ankle, Hermione searched furiously for a clean bra while brushing her teeth. Resigning herself to her strapless bra from the night before, Hermione dashed out the door just after slipping on a kind-of dressy v-neck, flats in hand.
Casting a quick Tempus charm, Hermione brought her pace to a run, cursing her choice of footwear from the night before and the blisters they had caused on her screaming feet.
"Miss Granger, glad to see you finally decided to join me."