Heir
Unapparent: Chapter 10 - The Halloween
Ball
Fall
arrived, headier than the glass of wine Hermione had enjoyed at the
Gorublianski Hance. The trees glowed
red, orange and yellow as if lit from within. Even their heavy course loads could not dampen their spirits as they
spent every available golden afternoon helping Hagrid with his zoo. Harry and Ron proved to be dab hands at
woodwork and, with the twins' help, managed to finish the barn. They painted it a deep brick red and ended
up having a magical paint fight; even Hermione was splattered with the stuff
and they were all sent to the showers straight away by a disgusted Filch. Peeves actually looked envious and wished he
hadn't missed out on the fun.
Most
evenings the boys were kept busy with Quidditch practice. Hermione felt herself missing her quiet
library as she and Ginny helped Dobby and Winky with their new enterprise. There was so much to do! By the time their heads hit their pillows,
each and every one of them was ready for a sound sleep.
On
a brilliant Saturday, the excited student body filled the spectator stands for
the first Quidditch match: Griffindor versus Ravenclaw. Lee Jordan took his place, magimegaphone in
hand. A Griffindor himself, he proudly
sported the golden lion on his scarlet sweater but assured the skeptical
Ravenclaw house leader that he'd report a fair game. Stern-faced Minerva McGonagall was there to ensure he did just
that.
Lee
first introduced the Ravenclaws; Cho Chang and Roger Davies especially drew
thunderous applause. Then it was time
for the Griffindors. "I give you
Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, Fred and George Weasley, Harry
Potter aaaaaaand new to the Griffindor line-up - Ron Weasley!"
Alicia
and Roger shook hands in a sportspersonlike manner and took to the sky with
Madam Hooch in pursuit. The balls were
released, she blew her whistle and the balls spun up to the playing field. The game kicked into high gear from the
get-go, with Katie scoring immediately. The Ravenclaws scored next while Harry and Cho kept their sharp eyes
peeled for the golden Snitch.
Lee
Jordan's commentary was amusing as always. "What a sensational save by Weasley! Quaffle back to Bell, Spinnet - SCORE by Johnson!" The Griffindors roared their approval as the
Quaffle returned to the Ravenclaw offensive. "Whoops! Dangerous Beating there by Fred Weasley - nearly knocked
George off his broomstick! Damn!"
Jordan winced as McGonagall glared at him. "I mean… SCORE by Davies."
It
was a tight game, and after effectively blocking their goalpost from a wild
Quaffle driven by Davies, Ron called a timeout. He was breathing like a bellows but looked like he was having the
time of his life. "Listen,"
he gasped. "I've been watching Davies - if we use the Porskoff Ploy, like
Krum showed us in practice, we'll blow right past him!"
"What
about us?" asked Fred and George in unison, who obviously placed great
confidence in their younger brother's strategic abilities.
"You're
Beaters, aren't you? So beat! Just
don't hit a Bludger at any of us! And
Harry, Cho's pattern - if you do a double-feint, you'll outfly her to the
snitch!"
"Right,"
grinned Alicia, glad she had the good sense to recruit Ron Weasley. "Let's do it!"
The
Griffindors sprang back into action with Katie in the center, flanked by Alicia
and Angelina. As they zoomed down the
field, Katie darted upward with the Quaffle, then dropped it to Alicia who, in
turn, batted it to Angelina. In a
brilliant piece of flying, Angelina spun round, avoiding both the Bludger and
Davies, to shoot the Quaffle smartly through Ravenclaw's goalpost.
Lee
Jordan was beside himself. "Score
by Johnson! Brilliant!"
Meanwhile,
Harry spotted the Snitch just beyond Cho, who had also seen the mischievous
winged ball dancing in the blue October sky. They both raced toward it, then Harry doubled back while Cho,
distracted, overshot her target as the Snitch spun into a downward spiral. In a magnificent swoop, Harry bore down upon
it and grabbed it, nearly falling off his broomstick in the process.
Far
below, the stands were in an uproar. Harry heard Lee's voice triumphantly crying, "That's it! That's it! The Dream Team has done it, folks! Griffindor has the Snitch and wins by 10 points!"
Hermione
and Ginny cheered so hard their hands smarted from clapping. Leaving the field for the locker room, a
sweaty Ron spied them in the stands and blew them an enthusiastic kiss.
The
next day, Hermione was reading the Daily Prophet, whose front page splashed a
photo of a radiant Viktor Krum and his teammates after their route of the
Peruvian National Quidditch Team. The
copy read, "Our Daily Prophet reporter caught a weary but jubilant
Viktor Krum as he came off the field. After congratulating him on his victory, we asked him about his inspiration
behind his daring moves against Villanueva. Krum gave a rare smile and replied proudly that he now devotes all his
victories to his beloved. Who can the
lucky lady be, we wonder?"
Hermione
felt her stomach sink. "Damn
it," she said aloud, hiding the paper before the boys arrived for
breakfast.
Draco
Malfoy made his way to the Griffindor table, slapping his copy of the Prophet
against his open palm and scowling at her. "You better set this guy straight, Granger. I don't like his line of thinking." He actually looked angry as he
continued. "Don't lead him
on. I can handle Weasley, but I don't
want Krum for a rival."
"What's
he on about?" asked Ginny, who took a seat beside Hermione as Malfoy
stormed off.
"Here,
read this." Hermione took a large gulp of coffee and promptly burned her
tongue in the process.
"Oh
dear," said Ginny as Hermione sipped cold pumpkin juice to soothe her
seared mouth. "Oh dear. Better not let Ron see this…"
Hermione
hid her face in her hands. "It
doesn't mean it's me!"
Ginny
tried to comfort her friend. "Look, maybe you should send him an owl…"
"Saying
what? Viktor, don't devote your games
to me, if you meant me? I'd
sound like an idiot, Ginny! Besides, I
should talk to him in person, not send him some crummy 'Dear John'
letter…"
Ginny
shook her head. "Look, here comes
Ron. Don't worry, we'll think of
something…"
Ron,
still glowing from his own Quidditch victory, sat down and kissed Hermione
squarely on her burnt mouth.
"Ouch!"
she cried, patting her lips gingerly.
"What? What did I do?" he asked with concern.
"Nothing. I just drank my coffee too fast," she
replied quickly.
"Hope
you heal quick - the Halloween Ball's next week and I want you in good
shape…" he grinned, looking meaningfully at her lips.
She
squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'll be fine, I promise…" and I will tell Viktor something,
she told herself silently.
The
day of the Halloween Ball finally arrived. Minerva McGonagall was directing a motley crew of students who had
volunteered to decorate the Great Hall. Severus Snape watched from the doorway with great amusement as the
pumpkin vines they were winding through an enormous trellis kept falling onto
her head. With an exasperated sigh, she
at last sent them outside to decorate the gardens.
She
was in the process of doing the job herself when his voice surprised her. "Oh, Severus! What are you smiling at?"
"You
have pumpkin leaves in your hair, Minerva."
"Do
I? What happened to my hat?" she
asked, feeling the bun at the back of her head and looking around vaguely.
"Here,"
he picked the hat out from under fallen vines and set it gently on top of her
head, smiling down at her.
She
eyed him suspiciously. "What are
you up to, Professor?"
He
shrugged innocently. "I was merely
enjoying your… performance. Shall I
give you a hand with those vines?"
Minerva
chuckled. "Yes, I would dearly
love some real help!"
He
reached around her and aimed his expert wand at the recalcitrant vines, which
began to dance and weave their way through the trellis. "Perhaps you would join me this
evening, after the Ball, for a glass of pumpkin wine? I happen to have a rather fine vintage…"
She
turned, smiling impishly up at him. "Why, Severus Snape, are you asking me to come down to your dungeon
to see your etchings?"
Snape
grinned sheepishly. "Well, I
suppose so, yes."
"Ah,
then no." His heart sank into his
polished shoes until she added quickly. "I think I'd rather you come to
me, Severus. I suspect my housekeeping
abilities surpass your own…"
His
black eyes twinkled with relief and elation. "Ah, so you have etchings as well?"
"We'll
see. But do bring that wine!"
The
day also found Hermione and Ginny busy, scrambling to outfit seventy-five
students with their tailor-made costumes. Squeals of delight rang through the corridors as satisfied customers
paraded their wares. By six o'clock they had clothed their last client and
sagged, exhausted, into chairs in the Winky Wear "studio", a small
set of rooms adjacent to the kitchen. Dobby, who seemed to possess unlimited exuberance, clapped his tiny
hands joyfully. "We's saved the
very best for last, misses!" he told the girls, who looked at him with
fatigue in their eyes.
"Dobby,
I couldn't get up out of this chair if it were on fire!" protested
Hermione. Ginny roundly seconded her
sentiments.
"Tut,
tut!" chuckled Dobby, pouring each girl a draft from a small bottle. It twinkled in their glasses like champagne,
shot through with tiny effervescent bubbles.
"What's
this?" asked Ginny, inspecting her glass closely.
"Pumpkin
fizzies!" smiled Dobby. "Just
the thing for weary limbs and lasses! You sip that, misses, while Winky and I get your gowns!"
The
weary girls obeyed and were surprised to find Dobby's instructions quite effective. The pumpkin fizzies were incredibly
restorative and they felt much improved as they drained their glasses.
Presently,
Dobby and Winky returned, carrying a lovely gown between them. "This is for you, miss," Winky
said, smiling shyly at Ginny. The elves
had selected an autumn fairy for Ginny's costume, taking their inspiration from
her red hair. Silk maple leaves in hues
of scarlet, orange and gold shimmered along the slim bodice and full skirt of
the dress. Ginny regarded her
reflection in amazement as Dobby fluffed the leaves about her and Winky put the
finishing touches on her mask.
"Oh,
Ginny, you're beautiful!" exclaimed Hermione with delight. Her petite friend was, indeed, a vision of
autumn splendor.
"And
this is for you, miss!" said Winky with pride as she and Dobby
presented Hermione with the loveliest gown she had ever seen. The form-fitting ivory satin emphasized her
slim figure, with a pair of pearly wings trailing from her shoulders. "You is an angel, you is, miss!"
sniffed Winky as tears brimmed in her huge brown eyes. "I can never thank you enough for
bringing me… back to life, miss!"
"Oh,
Winky!" cried Hermione, kneeling down to hug her diminutive friend. "You're the angel! This is the prettiest gown I've ever
seen!"
Dobby
stood back, grinning ear to ear at his beloved 'misses'. "You be sure Colin Creevey takes your
picture, misses! So proud of you I
am!"
He
and Winky waved goodbye as their best-dressed ladies hurried upstairs to the
Ball. "A glass of pumpkin fizzy,
Winky?"
Winky
smiled shyly at him and took his arm. "Yes, Dobby, I think we's earned it!"
Hermione
and Ginny arrived at the Ball as it was getting underway. Celestina Warbeck, the famous singing
sorceress of WWN's "Witching Hour" was crooning to the accompaniment
of Weird Sister and couples were mingling on the dance floor. The collective talent of Winky and Dobby was
on display throughout the hall; pirates, damsels, flowers and fairies greeted
each other with cries of admiration. "Winky Wear?" "You bet!"
Ginny
was quickly swept away by a tall boy wearing the Queen's Guard uniform. Hermione giggled as she watched his fuzzy
black helmet bobbing over Ginny's graceful autumn leaves. She scanned the crowd, looking for a tall
redheaded Chudley Cannon. She saw
shorter versions; Fred was dancing with
his usual vigor with the tall Angelina, who was dressed as Cleopatra. Also in orange, George was dancing with
Alicia Spinnet, who was wearing rich robes of crimson and gold. Harry, the only dark-haired Chudley Cannon,
was dancing so close to Cho Chang, a lovely monarch butterfly, that it was hard
to distinguish between his robes and hers.
A
boy dressed as Zorro pulled her onto the dance floor as she was craning her
neck to find Ron. As she faced him she
recognized the icy grey eyes through his mask. "YOU!" she gasped.
Malfoy
grinned at her. "Yeah, me! Looks like my collar won't match your outfit
but it doesn't matter. You look… real
good to me…" and he pulled her close to him.
"Damn
it, Malfoy, let me go!"
"Just
one dance, Granger. It won't kill you;
you wouldn't want to make a scene, now would you?"
Hermione
wasn't too sure about that, but she let him steer her around the dance floor,
being sure to keep a good six inches of air between them. Malfoy took advantage of the crowded floor
and pulled her tightly against him. He
lifted her chin in his gloved hand and planted a kiss on her mouth. She clamped her lips shut and tried to twist
her face away, but he was persistent. She felt the tip of his tongue against her lips and wanted to spit as he
pulled back, regarding her with irritation. "Be a good little pet and cooperate, Granger…" as he pressed
his mouth on hers again.
"Excuse
me." A thick voice interrupted them. Malfoy looked up irritably as someone tapped him on his shoulder. His eyes opened wide as he beheld the very
red and angry face of the usually sallow Viktor Krum. "I vould like to dance vith Hermyowninny, and I vont you
to go avay." To emphasize his point, he pulled Malfoy away and stepped in,
very close, to Hermione.
"Viktor!"
she said with delight and relief.
He
stood protectively against her and held Malfoy off with his powerful forearm,
glaring at the younger wizard. "I
believe I haff asked you to go avay," he said tightly.
Malfoy,
stunned, had no immediate response. He
stood there, looking very put out before he muttered, "Just trying to be
friendly…"
Viktor
put his arms around Hermione and danced her away from Malfoy, retorting,
"I don't like your vay ov being friendly." He looked at Hermione closely. "Are you allright, Hermyowninny?"
Hermione
sighed in his arms. "Yeah, thanks,
Viktor! You came along just in
time…"
He
pressed her head into his shoulder and hugged her tightly to him. "He is a… a volf, Hermyowninny. I vant you to stay far avay from him!"
She
had to agree with him. "I'm trying
to, Viktor, but he's so damn pushy!"
She
heard Viktor's angry breath in her ear. "Then I vill be pushy vith HIM. I don't like little boys bothering my Hermyowninny."
Uh-oh,
she thought. HIS Hermyowninny? This was going to be difficult… She perused
the crowded room for Ron. He would have
flattened Malfoy for his impudence, but he wouldn't care for the way Viktor was
holding her either. She simply had to
talk to Viktor and tell him…
Madame
Hooch interrupted their dance. Not surprisingly, she was dressed as a Quidditch
referee. "Ah, there you
are, Viktor! So glad you could make it
to our little soiree! What a coup you
had against Peru! We'll be reading all
about you in the Quidditch Annals, no doubt! Dear, you wouldn't mind if I stole your partner, would you? We need to discuss some Quidditch Tournament
business."
It
was obvious to Hermione that Viktor would rather dance with her than talk about
Quidditch, but Madam Hooch was insistent. "Oh, sure, no problem," she said quickly.
Viktor
pressed her hand tightly as he was led away by Hooch. "I vill see you later, Hermyowninny?"
"Yes,
of course!" she replied, albeit
she felt great relief that she had a few minutes to gather herself before Ron
found her.
Which
he did presently. They met as he was
going toward the dance floor and she was leaving it. He looked quite dashing as a Chudley Cannon, despite the fact
that the pumpkin robe clashed disastrously with his hair.
"Wow! Is that you, Hermione?" He looked her up and down approvingly. She had to admit that Ron's once-over did
not trouble her the way Malfoy's had. No, it did not trouble her at all; she felt a certain warmth spreading
from her hairline to her stomach. She
smiled at his warm regard and threw her arms around his neck. Delighted, he grabbed her around the waist
and swung her onto the dance floor. "You're gorgeous," he whispered in her ear.
She
hugged him tightly. "You look
pretty good yourself!"
The
dance was a slow one and she closed her eyes, letting herself relax as he held
her tightly in his arms. She was so
content she did not notice Zorro and Marie Antoinette aka Pansy Parkinson,
waltzing by. "Fast worker, you
are, Granger! Save me another dance,
okay doll?"
Pansy
scowled at her furiously and Ron, holding her away from him to see her face,
had the same expression. "What
does he mean, another dance? Has
that bastard been bothering you again?" She felt his arms stiffen with anger.
She
soothed him by kissing him lightly on his lips. "It's okay, Ron. I
got away from him pretty fast."
Ron,
somewhat appeased by the kiss, pulled her close again. "Well, just keep away from
him."
"Uh-oh,"
she muttered into Ron's ear. "Here
he comes for another pass…"
"I've
got an idea!" said Ron, grabbing her hand and swiftly fleeing the dance
floor. He led her out of the hall into
the gardens.
The
air was cool, especially after the heat of the crowded hall. Hermione shivered slightly.
Ron
noticed and pulled her close. "Cold?"
"Mmm. Not too bad now…" she sighed.
"Wait
a minute. I know I can do better than
that!" He pulled her into a leafy
bower overgrown with huge pumpkin leaves, which shielded them from the view of
passersby. Despite the comparative
peace of the gardens, they could hear soft murmurs and giggles drifting on the
night air. Ron grinned at her,
"Guess we're not alone."
Hermione
smiled as she felt his arms slide around her. She reciprocated and wound her arms around his neck as he bent his head
to hers.
Thus
far, their kisses had been fleeting and environmentally appropriate, given the
fact that they had been exchanged in the Burrow hallway or in crowded rooms at
Hogwarts. This kiss left all the others
behind.
When
they came up for air, Ron looked around and laughed. "Hey, we're in the alcove I saw Fleur Delacour and Roger
Davies in, at the Yule Ball!"
"Bet
you wished you were Roger Davies that night!" teased Hermione.
"Actually,
I wanted to be Viktor Krum that night."
Hermione
blushed at his admission; she had known all along, but to hear him admit it
made her heart ache for him. "And
now?"
"Now? I'm glad I'm Ron Weasley, right here, with
you…"
Hermione
positively twinkled. "You say the
sweetest things, Ron Weasley."
His
eyes sparkled like sapphires before he closed them and pulled her in for a much
deeper kiss.
While
Ron and Hermione were snuggling in their leafy bower, Ginny watched miserably
as Harry and Cho Chang danced together. Harry was holding her close and Cho was smiling up at him. Ginny felt the salt of tears stinging her
eyes. She bit her lip to fight them
back and decided she might as well go back to Griffindor tower. She couldn't stand to look on while the boy
she adored fell in love with someone else.
"Ginny? Would you dance with me?" She turned and saw a young wizard, just a
hair taller than she, dressed as a masked highwayman.
Sniffing
back her tears, she nodded. The boy led
her to the dance floor and started to guide her into a gentle waltz. She looked into his eyes and gasped. "Neville? Is that you?"
He
smiled shyly back at her. "Yeah. Surprised I'm not
stepping all over your feet this time?"
She
returned his shy smile. "You
weren't that bad!"
"Oh,
yes I was. So rotten, in fact, that it
took me all of summer vacation to learn how to do this. And it isn't much…"
Ginny
smiled brightly at him, melting his heart. "Oh, yes it is. I think… I
think it's just grand!"
Neville
then did a very un-Nevilleish thing. He
pulled her closer to him and kissed her gently on her forehead. "You're grand, Ginny."
Surprised
and pleased, Ginny hugged him back. "So are you, Neville, so are you." She closed her eyes and let him lead her around the crowded
floor. She didn't even notice that Harry
and Cho danced right by them.
Meanwhile,
Harry was not having as peaceful a time with Cho Chang as Ginny assumed. It was not for lack of company that Harry
was uneasy; his partner was divine. It
was Professor Sprout's partner that troubled him. Sprout, dressed appropriately as a mandrake, was dancing with an
outlandishly garbed King Henry VIII, whom Harry recognized as Cornelius
Fudge. What was he doing
here? Since Fudge had openly disagreed
on the future direction of resistance to Voldemort with Dumbledore, Harry had
doubted the pudgy Minister of Magic would deign to step foot on Hogwarts soil
again. Perhaps the recent death toll of
witches had changed his mind?
He
purposefully danced Cho over to where he could overhear Fudge talking to Professor
Sprout. "No, Madam, I assure you,
there is nothing to fear. There have
been no… deaths… since poor Rachel Greene was discovered. Not far from Knockturn Alley, as it turns
out. We have been able to rule out foul
play as you have suggested. No, a simple
albeit tragic robbery was the cause of her demise…"
No
way, thought Harry angrily. Percy had
seen her unmarked body. Was Fudge
really so blind? If so, Charlie's
assessment was right on - Fudge was an idiot. An idiot in a powerful position…
Shortly
after midnight, the revelers headed back to their respective houses. Minerva McGonagall had slipped away a bit
earlier, to see to last-minute details for her upcoming rendezvous with Severus
Snape. Her heart skipped a beat as she
heard a quiet knock on her door.
She
opened it and smiled warmly at her gentleman caller. He had paid careful attention to his appearance; his hair and
beard were neatly combed and he smelled deliciously of sandalwood. He stepped across her threshold and offered
her the bottle of pumpkin wine. "Oooh!" Minerva eyed the label, impressed. "1947 - quite a year, I
understand!"
Snape
opened the bottle, then made himself comfortable on the sofa with her. Minerva felt like a schoolgirl as he filled
her glass. She looked into his eyes
over its rim. His twinkled back at
her. "A good year, yes?"
She
nodded. Taking the glass from her and
setting it on the table before them, he ran his arm along the sofa behind
her. "I am glad you suggested we
meet here, Minerva," he began. "Your apartments are much more pleasant than mine. What is it that smells so good?"
"Perhaps
it's the cinnamon; I put a few sticks on the fire. But I thought it was you," she said, smiling. "I am especially fond of
sandalwood…"
He
leaned closer to her. "Are you
indeed? I am pleased I made the right
selection…"
The
next instant, his lips were on hers. She sighed and relaxed in his arms. To her pleasant surprise, he had quite a flair for kissing. She felt his long fingers skillfully release
her hair from its imprisoning French knot. "Oh, Severus," she murmured and he kissed her again. Deeply.
Their
embrace was, sadly, to be a brief one. "DAMNATION!" cursed Snape, removing his left arm from her
shoulders.
Minerva,
her hair falling in loosened tendrils about her face, sighed. "Don't tell me…"
At
the door, he paused. Turning, his dark
eyes met hers. "Might I hope, when
this… unpleasantness… has been dealt with…"
Her
smile was his answer. "I shall
return presently." I hope, he added silently.
Snape
stalked off the Hogwarts grounds and disapparated with fury. He always hated these encounters but
tonight… to be dragged from the welcoming arms and warm lips of his newfound
love… It was too much. Keeping her in
mind, he sought to end the interview as soon as possible.
The
object of his ire sat in his customary chair, stroking his hideous Nagini. He looked the picture of warped domestic
comfort. The bastard, thought Snape.
"Ah,
Severus. How kind of you to come out on
this festive holiday evening."
"My
lord." Severus bowed his head and cursed the day his foot ever slipped
onto Voldemort's dark path.
"You
recall it was on this dark day, fourteen years ago, that my power was broken
upon that Potter whelp. I had rather
hoped that, to avenge my wrongs, you would have brought me a lovely young
gift?"
Severus
sighed. "I regret, my liege, that
I have no such person - as yet. I felt
it best to be… selective… given the nature of your intentions…"
Voldemort
was not heeding his excuses. Instead,
he was sniffing the air. Not again,
thought Snape with disgust. But an
enormous evil grin broke across Voldemort's repulsive face. "My dear Severus. What on earth
are you doing with your spare time? You
smell like an apothecary! Don't tell me
you've finally got a leg over that spinster McGonagall?"
Snape
blanched with outrage. To hear his
beloved's name on those evil lips… He clenched his hands and ground his teeth
to keep from venting his growing hatred.
"Pity
she's still on Dumbledore's side. Perhaps you can convince her of the folly of her ways, in a moment of
sublime passion?" He sat back in
his chair and looked quite amused. Snape looked at the pointed toes of his black shoes and concentrated on
taking deep breaths lest he leap forward and throttle the demon, which could
only result in his own demise. "My, my," continued Voldemort with an evil drawl. "Love is certainly in bloom at
Hogwarts! I understand filthy young
Potter has a little friend. Why not her,
Severus? Yes, most fitting, I
think. I want you to bring me Potter's
little butterfly. She would be most
suitable!"
Severus
paled but kept his voice steady. "I believe she is a Ravenclaw, my liege. It will be most difficult. Their rules are not as lenient as ours in Slytherin…"
"My
dear Severus, I cheated death itself, which was by far a more formidable task
than that which I have set for you. Figure it out! And bring me the
girl! Go, now and…" he gave Snape
his foulest grin. "do give my
regards to your lovely Minerva!"
Snape
barely genuflected to kiss his vile robes before disapparating. Voldemort sat quite still, pondering their
discussion as he stroked Nagini's flat skull. At last, he stirred and hissed. "Wormtail!"
His
servant appeared instantly and, as always, groveled. "I grow impatient. I
believe it is time I bring in our Ministry ally; I have summoned him
accordingly. See to it that you bring
him to me immediately upon his arrival."
Minerva
McGonagall was nursing a glass of pumpkin wine, trying ineffectually not to
worry about Severus Snape. There was a
soft tap on her door, and she ran to open it.
Her
relieved smile faded when she saw the haggard look on Snape's face. A spark of appreciation lit his dark eyes as
he beheld her "en dishabille" but he sighed deeply, stepped across
the threshold and said, "Best get your robe, Minerva."
She
began to wind her hair back into its signature knot. "We're off to see Albus, of course?"
Snape
helped her into her black robe, pausing to kiss the bare skin at the nape of
her neck. She turned in his arms and
kissed him warmly, as if to melt away any memories of his icy encounter with
Voldemort. All too soon, he broke their
embrace. "Come, my love. The sooner we finish this macabre business,
the sooner we can… resume…"
Taking
the arm he held out for her, she sighed and they made their way to the office
of Albus Dumbledore. Along the way,
Snape felt a growing sense of unease. Was Draco Malfoy informing his father of events at Hogwarts, or was
there another weak link in their already fragile chain?
To
be continued, of course…