Chapter Five: Ballroom and Balcony

The full, gray shadow of Malfoy Manor loomed before her, staring out through empty, silk-draped eyes. Over the years she had stood there many times, facing that glassy gaze; but it was still impossible to shake the panicked memories that snatched at her heart. In those dark, hidden rooms she walked a thin line between life and death—indeed, she walked it even now…

Today, however, Malfoy Manor had taken on a different look, dressed in bunches of flowers, gold banners and crème ribbons, trees strung with specks of light just beginning to twinkle against the faded sky. For a moment, Lili was able to push away her fluttering fear and admire the elegance that had been thrown over the severity of Malfoy Manor like a veil. She hated to see it lifted.

Such calculated beauty was no doubt the work of Narcissa Malfoy: Dia had never been able to tell orange from green and was likely to wear both colors together, thinking herself quite chic.

Dia Malfoy. She ran the name through her mind briefly, trying to make it sound true. Mrs. Dia Malfoy. Draco and Dia Malfoy.

Well, it was done, awkward or not…

Olivia walked to her side, delicate, high-heeled shoes crunching the dust softly. "So this is Malfoy Manor." Her voice was half a sigh, half a gulp.

Lili kept her amusement to herself. The ceremony had been crawling with ex-Slytherins and plenty of those with high-breeding but questionable reputations: Olivia seemed to be having Auror palpitations.

For once, however, Lili was glad for her roommate's unquestioning Gryffindor bravery; she needed someone by her side—someone who wasn't hiding a dagger under their robes, waiting for her to let down her guard…

Inside, the halls danced with candlelight, people drifting up marble staircases drenched in all things graceful and fashionable. Lili followed, nodding curtly at those she recognized, exchanging a quick hello with Walden Macnair. Olivia stayed close.

A thick crowd of people had gathered at the entrance to the ballroom, and Lili joined it absent-mindedly. She heard Olivia let out a slight, steadying sigh, fingers fiddling lightly with the blue silk of her dress.

"You look nice," Lili said, trying to distract the other witch from her discomfort.

She merely grinned wanly.

"Better be careful; don't want to look too good."

Olivia rolled her eyes, not finding this amusing. In truth, Lili was half-serious: Olivia would attract enough attention as a lion in a den of snakes—anything more grabbing could become…problematic.

"Lili!"

Her name echoed across the foyer; it was a familiar voice, though one long absent from her thoughts.

The large clump of people parted, and Dia emerged, throwing her arms about Lili suddenly. "Oh, Lili!"

She barely knew how to react, reaching up and patting Dia's back awkwardly. An embrace was not a typical Slytherin greeting by any means.

Especially when you run in the circles I do…

She was grateful to finally be released.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came." Dia beamed, black eyes twinkling up and down with excitement. The candlelight cast bouncing shadows across her bared shoulders, pale skin set flawless against the smooth lace of her dress. "I see you around here all the time, but it's been far too long since I've been able to drag you away from Lucius." She smiled even wider, and Lili marveled at how incredibly happy her old friend seemed. The shadows sat on her with a delicate—even flattering—ease, wrapping around her like a gossamer shawl. Unlike Lili, she seemed untouched by the darkness, the heaviness, of Malfoy Manor…

"Yes, it's been too long," Lili managed, snapping away from her thoughts and shooting a smile at Draco who had just sauntered up and run a loose arm about Dia's waist.

Her heart attempted a brief ache, but Lili willed such foolishness away.

"Good to see you, Lili," Draco proffered in the long, elegant drawl he reserved for such formal occasions. "And your guest as well."

Olivia's body stiffened slightly to be called out, but the young witch managed a smile that Lili admired for its attempted sincerity.

"This is my roommate Olivia Birch." She stepped aside, leaving Olivia fully vulnerable under Dia and Draco's appraising eyes. "Olivia, Dia and Draco Malfoy." Even now, the words felt odd.

Draco bowed deeply. Dia nodded.

Olivia, Lili thought, was managing surprisingly well. If she didn't feel at ease—which she almost certainly didn't—she was doing a good impression of it. Lili was sometimes given to wonder if her roommate had more Slytherin in her than was apparent at first blush.

"I was just telling Lili how glad we are to have her." Dia informed Draco gently, before turning her attentions back to her guests. "I've really wished to have you around—you wouldn't believe how often I've thought of inviting you."

Lili found herself wondering about the sincerity of such laments. She had visited Malfoy Manor many times and always found Dia and the elder Mrs. Malfoy otherwise engaged. The opportunity for rekindling old friendship had always been present, but Lili guessed that Dia had taken on different goals, and that such statements were merely the result of the gleamingly transparent sociability her old friend had learned from Narcissa Malfoy.

Or perhaps, Lili had grown too jaded to believe anything in Malfoy Manor could be as sincere as it seemed.

Or, more likely, both.

She forced the same smile normally reserved for the elder Mrs. Malfoy. "Well, hopefully we can remedy that." Words as sincere as Dia's: resurrecting old Slytherin friendships sounded too much like prodding still open wounds. Besides, Dia wasn't the same: two years at Malfoy Manor had, as Lili feared, irreparably changed her.

Everyone's changed. Grown up.

"And when will I be attending the wedding of Miss Elizabeth Lee?" Dia asked with a wry grin; barely a half-hearted memory of the one they had shared so many late nights in the dark rooms of Slytherin.

Lili rolled her eyes; it was the sort of question she would have given all the Galleons in Gringotts not to answer—or, for that matter, to even consider. "Oh, never I suspect," she sighed, shrugging. "Who would want to marry me?"

"Professor Snape," Draco said with a pressed smile.

Blood pounded out from her chest, burning under her skin as she colored. Had she heard—had he said—

Yes, yes, she was certain; she'd heard him say Snape. But why? Why on earth would he suggest—had he somehow heard of their meeting at the Café—

She opened her mouth in some attempt to respond, but it was not her voice that crawled through the thick air, low and silk.

"Mister Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy."

She turned her head slowly, trying to regain some of her composure. Snape stood behind her, stiff in his black, formal robes. His dark eyes flickered over her, cold and close. "Miss Lee. Miss Birch."

She gave him a nod and turned away once more, willing her skin to cool and her heart to slow.

Of course. A greeting, not a suggestion. Pull yourself together, Lili.

She couldn't afford to lose her composure. One small slip like that could very well get them both killed.

She bit down on her tongue, hard enough to distract herself from the racing of her heart.

"We were just discussing when Lili might be hearing wedding bells," Dia told Snape. She gave him a smile that made it abundantly clear she no longer feared their one-time Potions Master as she once had. She now afforded him the same sociable, condescending look as everyone else.

The corner of Snape's lip turned, whether in disgust or discomfiture she couldn't tell. "Well then I'll leave you to such discussion, ladies." He gave them a slight nod. "Mister Malfoy."

"Actually, Professor, I'll go with you," Draco interjected, disentangling himself from Dia quickly. "I have a feeling this may quickly become girl talk." He winked at Lili and took off beside Snape, disappearing into the bustling crowd of the ballroom.

Lili wished she could follow, wanting desperately to know what they might say. She was sure Snape would take advantage of any information Draco might let slip.

But she stayed, rooted in place, unwilling to leave Olivia and wary of seeming  too eager to get away from Dia.

"Well then," Olivia said, breaking the silence and bringing Lili spiraling back to reality, "you can throw the bouquet to me, if it's all the same to Lili. I think I might finally have a prospect worth marrying."

She was smiling so hard, Dia found the enthusiasm contagious. "Oh, really? Well, that's exciting. Someone I might know?"

"I'm not sure. His name's Sam Nunberg. He works at the Ministry in the Department of Ethics in Magical Application."

Lili had been wondering about this mysterious new beaux for the last several days; who he was, what part of the Ministry he worked for, and, most importantly, why she hadn't heard a word about him earlier.

This revelation, however, seemed to explain it. On numerous occasions Lili had expressed not only her disgust with but her utter loathing of DEMA. For all their ethics and crusades, it was DEMA who had let Barty Crouch authorize the use of Unforgivables on apprehended Death Eaters during Voldemort's first reign. And it was now DEMA who had authorized the killing of uncooperative Death Eaters, even before trial. But let one Slytherin fifth-year bring a copy of Dark Draughts and Drugges to school and DEMA became so active everyone found occasion to  compliment their diligence…

Olivia was normally more than hesitant to mention romantic matters to Lili—the fact that her heart-throb worked for a department Lili found particularly odious was likely reason enough to keep things under wraps as long as possible.

The sinking in Dia's smile indicated her own feelings about DEMA. "Oh, no, I'm afraid I don't know anyone in that department. But I'll do my best with the bouquet."

Both witches stared at one another, and Lili could tell that Olivia was suddenly feeling quite out of place. The name DEMA elicited a different response among Slytherins than she was likely accustomed to.

"Ahh, Lili."

Olivia had braced her body, hands instantly flying to the silk of her dress once more.

Lili felt her own heart shudder, but, more accustomed to the smooth, icy voice, turned to meet those gray eyes with a half-smile. "Lucius."

The elder Malfoy gave a deep bow, merely glancing at Olivia before laying a long hand on Lili's shoulder. "I've been looking for you. May I have a word?"

She wanted desperately to ask him what the "word" would be about, but merely tried her best to seem unaffected by the suggestion. "Of course."

"Don't worry, Lili," Dia offered, with a resurrected smile. "I'll show your friend in." The two witches locked arms and entered the ballroom together.

And she was left with him. She steeled herself, preparing. This was, after all, the moment when she might find out if she would live or die…

Had she been any other of Lucius' female acquaintances, he might have offered her his arm and escorted her into the ballroom. Lili took it as a sign of greater esteem that he merely gestured for her to lead the way; she was his equal—well as much as anyone could be—and of no concern where matters of sex came into play. This suited her very comfortably as Lucius Malfoy's history with women was somewhat less than respectable.

"Who was that you brought along?" he asked as they entered the ballroom, walking lazily along the walls and nearer, Lili noticed gratefully, to the large table of champagne glasses.

"That's my roommate, Olivia Birch. I've told you about her." Lili grabbed at one of the bubbling champagne flutes, pushing it hard against her lips.

 "Ahh, yes, the would-be Auror. An entertaining choice of companions."

She wasn't sure how to interpret this remark. Another long draw of champagne tickled down her throat; a poor attempt to drown her anxiety.

"Beautiful though," he said, voice sinking to a throaty growl. "Really lovely."

The light liquid grew heavy on her tongue. She did not seriously think Lucius would put Olivia in a compromising position—at least not with so many people present. But the very idea of those glassy eyes fixing her friend with such obvious lust made the mixture of liquor and wedding cake roil in her stomach. Lili had seen on several horrible occasions the depths of Lucius Malfoy's depravity; it was something he fully unleashed only under the mask and the hood, but such horrors were not easily forgotten.

"I knew you'd like her," Lili said, finishing the champagne and trying to affect both indifference and disapproval in her sigh. It was common knowledge among Lucius' better acquaintances that the elder Malfoy possessed a special appetite for blondes: an extension, Lili decided, of his all-encompassing narcissism. "Too bad she's a Gryffindor and a Muggle-lover, eh?"

Malfoy nodded, taking a glass of champagne and pushing it past his lips for a few moments in silence. Lili dreaded even to guess what thoughts were running through his mind. She had, on some of her more hopeless and restless nights, found a great deal of terror considering what the wizarding world would become if Voldemort won and the Malfoy's were given free exercise of their desires. Through a second glass of champagne, she found herself hoping that, if such a day ever came, Olivia would already be dead and out of Lucius Malfoy's reach. She hoped the same, in fact, for herself.

Be careful what you wish for, Lili…

Malfoy's eyes returned to her, and she knew she must meet them. She'd need another glass for this…

He was swirling the yellow liquid absent-mindedly. "How's your work been?"

"Not too good I'm afraid," she sighed, allowing herself to slip down in her Slytherin skin, lips tilting up in a nasty half-sneer. "It seems that, lamentably, we've made little progress in our work. The Aurors on the front lines are still suffering…"

This seemed to amuse Lucius greatly, and his smile twisted even more behind the refracting champagne glass.

"But there is always a silver lining. It seems Ronald Weasley is more of a man than we might have imagined." She sighed. "He knocked-up that Mudblood wife of his, and she's requested a transfer out of my office."

Lucius snorted, and Lili felt herself blending in with the crowd. She belonged here, yes. She was still a Slytherin, could still pretend to be anything she liked—still speak sickening words without so much as a second thought.

No, not quite. But the second thoughts, the guilt, came later. She could push it away.

"Yes, I heard about the Weasleys', er, good fortune. Sounds like more of a blessing for you." Lucius put aside his glass and turned, walking towards the corner of the ballroom. She followed without question. "Just another poor, red-headed tramp for the rest of us."

It was Lili's turn to chuckle, and she knew it well.

"Have you heard the news about Junia Bell?"

He asked the question in an off-handed manner, as anyone might have asked anyone else about a recent newspaper headline. But they were now safely in an empty corner of the room, and Lili knew the turn the conversation would be taking…

"Yes—yes," she said, looking at him, trying to pierce the suave, sociable mask he still wore. "I heard everything…from Draco."

He nodded, understanding, and leaned against the wall with the slow, intimidating grace only a Malfoy could possess.

Or perhaps one other, she corrected herself, catching a brief glance of Snape across the ballroom.

She swallowed, trying to concentrate on the subject at hand. "I must say, I'm a little curious as to why I heard the news from Draco. I would have thought…other sources might have informed me."

Malfoy arched an eyebrow but smiled at the same time, hand waving dismissively. "Don't be worried, Lili. No one but myself was told. I was to be sure everyone else who was deemed worthy heard such things." He leaned in a little, voice low. "Why do you think my son was so adamant that you be here tonight?"

Lili watched his eyes, his lips, his body fiercely, struggling to decide if this was the truth or merely a way of appeasing her. "So there's to be a meeting this evening?"

Malfoy shook his head, leaning back again. "No. Still too soon. One week from tonight, here on the Manor. There, everything will be revealed."

Fear shivered down Lili's spine. Malfoy was holding her in his cold eyes, every inch of her gripped with the chill. There was something watching her, something that knew—

"Do—do—" Her voice was barely audible over the bustling in the ballroom. "Do you know who it is?" But she didn't need to ask. There was a smugness in his steel gaze that she recognized: it was a more mature and disguised version of what she could spy so easily in Draco. But he was letting her see this, the look he normally hid so well. He wanted her to know…to know that he knew…

He smirked. "Oh no, of course not. Only the Dark Lord knows. If I knew, don't you think you would as well? Our Master considers you one of his most loyal servants."

She swallowed, not to be deterred. "Well, of recent I've been wondering on that account. I mean, I heard nothing of the Dementors either. And I'm most eager to hear about that. It seems, perhaps, at last, our Master is ready to take back what was once his…to reclaim his power…" She kept her eyes fixed strong and purposeful across the room. She would not let her face betray her as her voice was managing an excellent mix of hunger and excitement. "In such a case, I want to be the first in battle. I have been waiting these last two years…"

Lucius chuckled, his cold, skeletal hand finding its way to her shoulder once  more. "Patience is all I can council. With the situation as it is, our Master must be very cautious. He cannot tell anyone right now. But believe me, the time is coming. Next Sunday, you'll have no more worries…"

Her skin crawled, his long fingers seeming to burn like a brand. She was afraid for a moment that she had jumped at his touch, and that he could feel her sweating, heart pounding and shaking her like the guttering candles that surrounded them in pale light.

"Lili?"

She had never been so grateful to see Draco in her life. Lucius' hand moved from her shoulder, and she was suddenly much lighter, desperate to escape.

"Would you like to dance?" He was running his fingers through his long white hair, eyes sliding between her and his father as he smiled weakly.

Under normal circumstances, she would have groaned. She didn't need to be twirled around the dance floor, reminded of earlier times when he had held her that way…

But this time, she took the hand he offered her with gratitude.

Squeezing through several whirling couples, it was only now she realized how hot and crowded the ballroom had become. She was sweating, stomach fluttering weak and unsettled, the heat of the air filling her mouth with the thickness of water.

She couldn't push his gray stare from her mind.

He knew—of that there could be no doubt. But what it was, she couldn't say.

Had he seen her sweating? Had she merely imagined that cruel glint in his eyes as he spoke?

Next Sunday, you'll have no more worries…

Draco laid a hand on her waist, and they began to spin along with the dizzying rush that whirred about her head.

No, perhaps she had imagined it. She couldn't let herself get too nervous—not yet. She had a week: whether or not it was the last week of her life, it was still time.

And perhaps things weren't so bad as they seemed. Lucius was famous for that cruel glint…

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, pulling her through a tight turn.

"Oh—oh yes," she stammered, trying to concentrate on Draco and not the lights and flashes blurring around them. "I'm just a little hot."

Draco nodded, no doubt making some comment on the heat. Lili couldn't hear him over a sudden burst of music and the constant cacophony of voices. Even the whispers seemed to echo…

"What did you think of the ceremony?" he tried again, somewhat louder, leaning in closely.

For a quick moment her heart jolted feeling his body touch hers, his lips mere inches from her ears. She grazed his eyes, cool like his father's; and yet…different. Especially different at the moment.

 "It was really beautiful. You both looked stunning." Sweat beaded on her nose. Draco's voice felt hot in her ear, and everything seemed to be trembling around her, refusing to steady. "I'm glad to see you both so happy."

Her feet were moving independently of her mind which had now lost all balance. The heat, the fear, and the thousand faces whirling past were drumming inside her head; all demanding her attention. She began to wonder if she could make it through this song without slumping against Draco completely. The sturdiness of his body was the only thing holding her up amidst the churning crowd.

No, she was overreacting. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her.

"Lili?" His eyes were so close to hers she spied flecks of blue among the gray.

"Yes?"

His gaze suddenly darkened, causing Lili's spinning, pounding heart to lurch. He was hesitating.

"Is something wrong?" she pressed, feeling her palms sweat against his.

She was comforted to feel that his were equally slick.

 "Is—is there anything—between you and—" The dry sound of his swallow cracked against her ears.  He paused.

Her body reeled, bloomed and keened with sweat, but her mind fixed heavily on every dripping syllable.

"Between you and Snape?"

She froze. All the weight of the spinning room crashed down upon her like a violent wave.

Draco almost tripped over himself.

"What?" She knew her face was betraying her shock, but somehow she felt powerless to hide it. The room seemed to be breaking apart at the seams, her heart thudding, hot and horrified, and this was the last question in the world she had expected.

Draco grabbed her again, twirling her and obviously trying not to draw any more attention. "Is there anything between the two of you? I just—want to know." He was pressed close to her, and she was almost certain he could feel the hammering of her heart next to his.

He knew something.

Ye Gods, did anyone here not know something that could get her killed? What could she say? What could she do…

"No, there's nothing," she spat. "Merlin's beard, Draco, why would you ask such a thing? Snape?" The disgust that laced her voice was genuine, though not for the reasons she hoped Draco would assume.

Did he know or was he just guessing?

Her wand was in the pocket of her robes. It wouldn't be hard to reach. If she needed.

She repeated this to herself several times.

"I don't know. Just—I mean at Hogwarts you—" He turned her again, face twisted with discomfort. "Just tell me. I need to know."

So he didn't know—he was guessing. She couldn't afford to hesitate even a second. "No. There's nothing. At Hogwarts I was working for honors in Potions. I haven't even spoken to Snape since then, at least outside of—business." She screwed up her nose as if smelling something foul. "You shouldn't believe everything Pansy Parkinson tosses around. I mean, for Circe's sake—it's Snape. Can you imagine?"

The room continued its gyrations, seeming to blink with every guttering candle.

Draco's sigh caressed her cheek. "Good. I'm glad."

Her blood was pounding furiously, sloshing as if dragged by every emotional tide. A thousand sounds hailed down on her ears, faces watching her blank and indistinct.

And he was so close…

With every circle, she turned back to the same question. What did this mean?

Draco had guessed that there was some relationship between herself and Snape. He assumed it to be romantic in nature. He didn't want that relationship  either because he was still pining after her and didn't want to see her with their old, greasy Potions Master, or…

The strings gave one final scream, and she felt Draco's body pull away, fingers disentangling from hers gingerly.

Or they knew about Snape.

They knew about Snape, and Draco was trying to tell her—trying to protect her.

Draco bowed deeply, but she had already turned away, staggering off the dance floor, eyes darting, raking every face, searching for his.

She tried to add the two Malfoys together. Did Lucius suspect a relationship between herself and Snape? Could Draco notice anything his father didn't hand him on a platter?

No. Lucius couldn't know. He wouldn't have resisted further innuendo if he'd suspected that she and Snape…

And even if the elder Malfoy did suspect that she and the Potions Master were romantically engaged, this in itself was no particular crime. They would have no reason to believe that they were both spies, both traitors simply because they were lovers…

An odd thought to be sure: but she had no doubt that such was the way the mind of a Malfoy interpreted these things.

No sooner had she thought this, than she almost ran into the elder Malfoy as he glided onto the dance floor, a lithe, tall woman on his arm.

Lili looked up to see Olivia, face torn between courtesy and fear.

Perhaps some of that Auror-training will pay off before the end…

Seeing this, she could take no more of the heat and the fray, and pushed her way out of the ballroom, mind aching for the dull release of solitude.

****************

The ballroom's balcony was locked, but a flick of her wand opened the French doors with an easy creak. She closed them behind her, locking them and adding a temporary password. She needed some time alone. To think.

The Manor's main balcony was a grand affair, and Lili had only stood on it once before—two years previous with Draco. They had been flying and decided to take a break. There they had sat on the cold marble, staring out at the Manor grounds which had then been covered in crisp frost. They had talked for hours about the newest model Nimbus.

The distance from that time pressed heavily on her. Now she stood here alone, in an oppressive heat, fear retching and churning through her, without a single such innocent topic as broomsticks on her mind.

Yes, a lot could change in two years.

A lot, it seemed, could change in one week.

She sat, hoping to feel the cold marble again; hoping to keep remembering.

The stone was luke-warm but felt pleasant against the fire of her skin. Music wafted lightly from the ballroom, and, though the stars were all masked by thick clouds, lights twinkled from the trees, lighting the grounds like fireflies.

Had it been anywhere else, at any other time, it would have been breathtakingly beautiful.

Her mind, however, recovering from its vertigo, insisted on her full attention in the present, without regard for scenery.

She had to think, decide what could be done.

She hadn't a clear idea, however, what to believe. The elder Malfoy had given her no truly clear indication, but her gut told her he knew—he knew she was a spy.

But Draco had merely seemed concerned that she keep her distance from Snape. This suggested that it was Snape they knew about.

So it was either she or Snape.

She swallowed, her heart fluttering in realization.

Does it matter? Does it matter which of us is doomed?

Her mind drudged up each scenario, unbidden.

The room would be dark, firelit. She would watch the scene as she always did, through the thin gauze of a mask; like watching animals from the other side of the cage—the illusion of being removed from reality.

He would slide around the circle, hissing out words, reaching their eyes even through so many veils.

And he would say a name.

Lee.

Snape.

And Lili would be dragged into the circle, mask and hood torn away, wand broken, her body ruthlessly beaten.

Or she would watch as Snape was pulled forward—maybe even be forced to help.

The rest would be the same, no matter who was pulled out.

Screams.

Blood.

The sounds of snapping bones and guttural pleas.

The smell of sweat and blood. Urine and alcohol.

And, if the victim was lucky, a horrible flash of green light before being defiled and torn to pieces like so much dead meat.

She choked back a sob, her lungs filling with the thick, unrelieving night air.

"It's good to know I'm not the only one enjoying this party so much."

Hers was not, apparently, the only mind seeking quiet.

She jumped at his voice, but wouldn't turn to meet him, painfully aware of the tears now frozen on her cheeks.

"You frightened me."

He shifted behind her, his formal robes rustling on the marble sternly. "You shouldn't be so careless. You're not the only who knows Alohomora."

He was right, but that didn't keep the resentment from wringing her muscles. Did all her caution and thorough pretenses mean anything anymore? What more could one unguarded moment of crying do?

She pulled her knees up to her chest, still refusing to look at him, even as he sat beside her. She was vaguely aware of his scent, but even the stiff spices of Hogwarts seemed no match for the pressing, black air.

"I spoke with Draco."

Snape said it before she could.

"It's me."

She swallowed, feeling the tears drying across her cheeks. From somewhere in the distance, the music picked up again, sliding past her unheard.

"Are you sure?" Her body seemed to be buzzing with numbness: an unwillingness to be hearing these things, to be faced with this.

"As sure as one can be about the whims of a killer."

"Draco asked me if there was anything between us," she said, as flat and unemotional as she could manage.

She looked up just in time to catch his smirk. "Yes, he tried to ask me about it too. Only further confirmation." He seemed to unwind slightly. "He still cares for you a great deal; doesn't want you getting mixed up with a marked man."

"Lucius was behaving strangely. I almost thought he knew about me."

Snape continued staring out, twinkling lights reflecting off his eyes manically. "He always gets that glint in his eyes when he knows something the rest of us mortals don't. He smells blood."

Watching Snape, she began to feel a panic fluttering in her heart. "What—what are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

He said this with a voice Lili had never heard from him before. It was resigned and yet utterly helpless. It was the voice of a man who had lost hope.

Shudders pricked down her back though heat was sticking to her skin like honey.

The grounds which had, just a few moments ago, seemed so silent, now erupted with sound. Crickets moaned, toads wailed, and from the ballroom, music still managed to cut through the night air like a warm knife through butter. Snape's breathing echoed, tremulous and rhythmically around every note.

She allowed herself to watch him only through furtive glances, knowing he'd grow stern and uncomfortable otherwise.

It struck her how odd this was, sitting with him here, like this—just where she'd sat with Draco two years earlier. He, too, was sweating, several strands of his long black hair plastered to his thin neck, the rest hanging limp about his shoulders. He looked out, oblivious to the world, and Lili wondered what he was thinking. It was a terrifying prospect, one's own death sentence, but he was handling it just as she'd expected. The stoicism he wore in the face of everything.

She envied him that at least. Her eyes were burning.

One week.

One week.

And what could be done?

"Miss Lee?"

The low silk of his voice startled her. She met his eyes curiously.

"Would you like to dance?"

For a moment she said nothing, trying to decide if she'd imagined this. "W-what?"

"I confess I'm probably not the most desirable of partners," he said, standing and brushing at his robes circumspectly, "but I find myself overcome with the desire to be a normal person in a normal situation at this moment. Would you like to dance?" He offered her a long, corded hand.

She took it, feeling herself pulled up from the marble with a strength she wouldn't have guessed Snape to possess.

It was the same feeling she'd been overcome with in the café just a few days earlier; the desire to forget everything and to have one moment of normalcy.

He laid a gentle hand on her waist, winding his fingers through hers languidely.

A warmth spread through her which she had never experienced. It made her blush, and she desperately hoped the night would keep it unseen.

They began to move, and, despite anything she might have guessed, Snape was an excellent dance partner, moving her in smooth, wide circles with the same slow elegance he possessed in skulking about the dungeons. She could barely make out the shape of his face in the dark, his eyes glittering between her and the distance. She was overly aware of his hand on her waist, long fingers wrapping the bone of her hip loosely. The their palms were pressed tight, hot and slick, and, as his robes brushed against hers, Lili wished for a flashing moment to be closer.

There was no Malfoy Manor, no wedding, no death sentence—no Snape. There was simply the need to keep dancing and to forget.

The music carried them together for what seemed quite a long time.

As the last string faded and gave way to the bellowing crickets, she felt Snape's hands fall from her, his warmth and his scent trailing away and leaving her stuck in the same stagnant night air once more.

"We really should get back in," he said through a deep breath, stepping back and straightening his robes. "It will look suspicious if both of us are gone too long at the same time."

It took a moment for her to return, for her mind and body to sink back into reality. She could not adjust as quickly as he.

"Er—yes," she attempted, pushing at her hair, and stepping back towards the French doors hastily. "I need to go rescue Olivia before Lucius Malfoy finds a way to get her on her own somewhere."

Snape shook his head grimly. "Yes, I suppose he'd like her, wouldn't he."

She tapped the French doors lightly, muttering the password. They opened with the same creak.

She was torn between the urge to leave and the desire to close them again and keep them closed forever.

But the music would stop.

And they would come looking.

She met his eyes as she pulled the doors open, candlelight trailing over her gold. "I'll talk to Lang tonight after Olivia goes to sleep." She knew it was the last thing he'd want to do.

"I'll speak with Dumbledore." His voice was quiet, holding back something which she couldn't place.

She turned to leave.

"Miss Lee."

Her heart was aching, teetering between cool reality and the forgetful dream she had just experienced. "Yes?"

"Thank you. That was a lovely dance."

Every part of her trembled in a way she couldn't understand, her knees locking, her skin prickling as if in a cool breeze.

No, Lili. Keep walking. Go find Olivia, go home, and remember what life is really like.

She exited, leaving Snape alone, tall and frowning amidst the stony shadows.

*********************************

A/N: Alright! This chapter is the product of a long train ride and a sick day. :o) It's another long one…I hope you like.

Chapter Six may or may not be out before I get back to America, just depending on how long I'm sick, or how much it rains the next few days (the weather in Beijing has been miserable!) Six will be a shorter chapter, so it's entirely possible.

Please let me know what you think!!!