Author's note: This time, thanks go to Butterfly, one of the most loyal and thorough reviewers I've ever had. What a short author's note…
Chapter 13: Eye to Eye
And now I guess you're wondering why
We never could see eye to eye
Oh, but never mind
And now I guess it's hard to see
What has gotten into me
Oh, but never mind
—A-ha: Barely hanging on
So, what are you going to do now?
What do you mean?
Don't play dumb. You only ask that when you know perfectly well what I'm implying.
So what? I have no idea what to do now. Perhaps I should just act as though nothing happened?
May I make a suggestion?
Why so formal? Out with it.
For a start, you could be a bit more relaxed around him, you know, keep your conversations not so formal. And try to rein in your temper. I know it's my temper, too, but you're in contact with the outside world. So, be nice.
That's all?
What did you expect? That I'd tell you to throw yourself at him and make a marriage proposal?
You're exaggerating way beyond what's acceptable.
Hey, I'm as insecure as you are. For me it's just easier because I'm just the counsellor, so to speak.
Then do your job. Please. Help me out here.
Sorry, love. Now you're on your own—for a while, until I've figured out another strategy…
Thus, Sariss had avoided anything that only bordered on deserving to be called a 'private moment' with the Potions master all weekend. It wasn't as though she didn't long for his touch. It was just that she didn't know how to approach him. For once in her life she wished for a reason to be angry with him so she could damn him to hell and concentrate properly on other things again.
Naturally, they had spoken a few words at mealtimes, even in the staff room—but not more than that. Nothing of any deeper meaning, nothing that could lead to a somewhat awkward situation again—as though they'd needed words for that to happen.
So it happened, that by Monday morning, Sariss had decided to let the matter rest. It was no use dwelling on it, was it? After all, she fared much better without her thoughts constantly drifting off in a direction that she was by now seriously tempted to call 'forbidden'.
She arrived deliberately late for breakfast that day.
As soon as she had sat down, Professor McGonagall stood up and shouted, "Silence, please!"
~*~*~
The murmurs in the Great Hall gradually subsided. Dumbledore stood up and began to speak. "I have an announcement to make. In those dark times, filled with fear and misery it is crucial for us all not to lose hope, not to lose the ability to be happy. Thus I have decided that there will be a ball on 14th February, a Valentine's Ball."
Applause rocked the Great Hall. Dumbledore raised his hands indicating for the students to be quiet again. After a few seconds it was.
"As a matter of fact this ball will have an actual theme. It is 'Magic In All Times' which means that each of you will choose a certain time in history and charm yourselves an appropriate costume. I have already informed Madam Pince who is very delighted to provide the books you'll need for this. A very good Transfiguration practice that is, too," he added with a wink.
"But that's hardly two weeks," Ginny whispered horrified. "How are we supposed to learn those spells so quickly?"
"However, if you find that you perhaps have better things to do—revising for your exams, for example—than charm your clothes yourselves, Professors McGonagall and Flitwick have already volunteered to assist you—."
"I shall be delighted to help, too," Professor Ravon interrupted the headmaster who smiled broadly.
"I was hoping you'd say that. Any help is very welcome and very appreciated," Dumbledore said. "If you intend to attend the festivities you should perhaps bring a picture or something similar of the clothing you'd like to have. It will make it easier for your Professors to put the spells on your clothes then… Should there be enough interest, Professors Sinistra and Vector would be delighted to teach you a bit of dancing. Interested students simply go to the Arithmancy classroom after dinner tonight. Very well, continue your breakfast. I wouldn't want it to be my fault if your teachers were forced to take away some points because you're late…"
"Ooh, there hasn't been a Valentine's Ball for years," Hermione exclaimed.
"Wasn't the Hallowe'en Ball enough?" Ron didn't sound very enthusiastic.
"That was not a ball, it was simply a costume party. Not much different from any other Hallowe'en feast—except for a bit of dancing—which you didn't do anyway."
Harry, noticing that they were heading for a bit of a row again, quickly asked, "So… er… any idea for your costumes already? Ginny?"
"Difficult question… Hmm… I'd like a really nice dress, something you don't wear everyday, something special, something on which a lot of material has been wasted on." Ginny had a dreamy look on her face.
"Say, if I were to choose the same time in history as you do…" Harry began hesitantly, dreading the answer already. "Would that involve me in a pair of tights?"
"It's leggings, not tights," she said far too quickly.
"That was a clear yes. I can hardly wait."
"I'm sure we'll find something you won't feel too weird in…"
"Hermione, please don't tell me I've got to wear tights, too…" Ron pleaded.
"Leggings."
"What?"
"They're leggings," Harry, Hermione and Ginny answered in perfect unison.
"Harry, mate, we're in a lot of trouble… Er… Hermione, listen up. I've already messed this up once… You see, I don't want you to think I take it for granted that you'll go to the Ball with me…" Ron began. "So… Would you accompany me to the Ball?"
"So sweet, Ron. I'd love to. And I appreciate that you're going to put yourself through that ordeal only to please me."
Ron looked rather flattered and blushed deeply crimson when Hermione gave him a noisy smooch.
Harry was rather glad that Ron had actually managed to ask Hermione. Three years ago at the infamous Yule Ball—Harry still shuddered at the memory—that hadn't been so.
Harry noticed Ron breathing a sigh of relief, and put two and two together and got four—meaning that he reckoned that Ron had just had the same thought. There was no need to repeat that, thank you very much, but no.
Ron hadn't thought of asking Hermione until a short time before the Ball. She'd already agreed to accompany Viktor Krum at the time and had been furious when Ron had stated the obvious: "Hermione, you're a girl…" Mildly put, Hermione hadn't been very pleased back then.
Leaning towards Ginny Harry whispered, "Play along now, alright?"
She nodded and Harry cleared his throat exaggeratedly. "Ron, my dear friend, would you be so kind as to trust me with your sister's virtue and grant me the honour of accompanying your absolutely adoring sibling to the Ball?"
Ginny sighed and pretended to faint.
Ron tried to keep a straight face. "I wouldn't trust you with my sister's virtue if you were gagged and bound," he said in a dead serious voice. "And which one of my siblings would you like to accompany to the ball? Certainly we could get George or Fred to agree. With Percy… I don't know. Charlie on the other hand…"
He finally couldn't bite back laughter any longer and joined the others who were already sniggering uncontrollably. He caught his breath and with a mischievous grin, with as much dignity as he could muster after this not so unexpected fit of mirth, he added: "Your request shall be granted, dear sir. But remember: Keep a distance of at least twelve inches and your hands on her waist…"
"Only if you do the same when you're dancing with Hermione."
"She's not my sister," Ron exclaimed in mock-outrage.
"Exactly."
~*~*~
"A Valentine's Ball," Sariss said. "Nice idea."
"Oh, it's not only going to be a simple Ball. We'll have the full program. I already settled everything."
"Oh dear. Don't tell me this means pink hearts and all that."
"To a certain extent it does," Dumbledore said merrily. "I still remember the last Valentine's Day we really celebrated here. It was a bit too much, I must admit. But there were some aspects to it that I simply found hilarious." He stood up, still chuckling, nodded and left.
"What have I manoeuvred myself into?" she muttered.
"Just be glad you're not the one teaching how to dance. Those lessons tend to be hell."
"How would you know, Professor Snape?"
"A horde of eager girls dragging a horde of extremely reluctant boyfriends after them…" he trailed off. "I leave the rest to your able imagination."
"I had no idea that dancing proves to be such torture for the male half of the population. I always thought boys just liked to be begged and pleaded to so the girl would feel special as soon as she'd achieved her task," Sariss said, not quite sure if she meant this in an ironic way or not.
"Interesting assumption. It might be true in a few cases," he said. "Although I don't think that it applies to many."
"Really?"
"Of course. I should know, as I am part of said male half of the population, shouldn't I?"
"So, hypothetically, you could enlighten me."
"Practically too."
"Well then… Who had to drag whom out on the dance floor on Hallowe'en?" Finally, she'd gotten it out of her system.
"That was an exception," he said casually.
"Was it now?"
"Yes. It just confirmed the rule."
"Did it?"
"Yes."
"Uh-huh."
"Is it just me or is this conversation revolving on the spot?" Snape asked.
"Guess so," Sariss replied, totally agreeing with him. If they sat here for much longer, playing a game of who could use more words without really speaking—or, in Sariss's case, fewer words… She'd have to look him in the face at some point or other.
He was looking at her. She could almost feel his dark smouldering gaze crawling over her. His scent had already begun to worm its way into her mind, making her feel dizzy again. It was so irritating. And furthermore, how were you supposed to converse when suddenly every word of his sounded like a caress—when every word of his seemed to brush over her skin like satin? But maybe she just imagined that because of her hypersensitive—and as of recently, quite overreacting—senses.
Fortunately, she had her breakfast to focus on—she hardly noticed the taste of the strawberry jam—at least until she finished it, which was exactly… now.
She fidgeted with her napkin, just to occupy her hands with something. Sometimes she had no idea where she ought to put them, and they were so cold again.
Which leads us to the thought that you'd want them to be warmed by—.
Not now, you lusting—!
Whom are you calling 'lusting', when you're the one who—.
You can't hear that now, but I'm inwardly sighing in exasperation, just to let you know. I'm just glad I'm not alone with—.
Sariss suddenly became aware of the fact that it had become awfully quiet in the Great Hall.
It was empty.
Oh dear. Alone with him.
Find an excuse. I haven't figured out yet what to do about this thing you two seem to be working on…
There is no 'you two'. And neither one of us is 'working' on anything!
And what a pity that is, isn't it?
Very funny. How about helping me find a reason to excuse myself—NOW!
Hmm. Isn't there something you have to do? A place you have to be?
She quickly glanced at her watch. Five minutes until lessons started! And Sariss had a longer way to go than Snape too!
"Excuse me, Professor," she muttered and stood up.
"Listen, Miss—."
"Late," she felt obliged to explain, indicating her watch, and dashed away.
Never in her life had she been so glad that time had passed by quickly…
~*~*~
And gone she was, robes and hair flying behind her.
Snape stood up and went on his way out and then down the staircase to the dungeons. "Late, damn it," he mumbled to himself. Just when he'd wanted to use the opportunity to—.
Yes, what were you up to now?
I'm not sure. I want to tell her so many things—.
Like what?
Maybe that I'm sorry for treating her the way I did; and then maybe for—how did you put it?—'inviting myself'?
Oh, sure. Right. You're sorry? Liar. You're only hoping that once you do that she'll say that she didn't mind, that she might even have enjoyed it, isn't it?
Perhaps… And maybe that I'd like her to—No, it was better that she left. I wouldn't have been able to complete the sentence properly anyway.
This being so shy isn't quite like you, I must say. Not after you know what.
I don't know what had gotten into me that day.
You've been acting not quite like yourself for weeks.
I don't feel like myself lately.
You're trying to be nice for a change. That's a good thing.
The only thing is… Sometimes I can't think properly when she's near me. It must be her hair. I can't even describe the way it smells. I'd so like to—.
Would you like to have another look in the Mirror?
I'd better not. Would be too much in my current state of mind. It was definitely better that she left.
Well, you were on the verge of calling her 'Miss Ravon' again, you know? She doesn't like that. Especially now. Especially from you.
As though I'd need being told that… Did I really? I didn't even notice.
Of course you didn't. You were far too busy staring at her. A bit more intensely and you would have been undressing her with your eyes.
What's it to you? She didn't complain.
Or were you just watching her squirm under your gaze?
She could have said something, couldn't she?
Well, she spoke to you… Ah, this is about the incident in the Potions classroom, isn't it?
She could have commented on it. She could have looked at me.
And then noticed you stare at her.
Aren't you listening? I'm telling you, she knew it. She didn't complain.
That's because she didn't stare back. She never does.
Oh, but she knows. With this special ability of hers she must know how I feel about her. She could be so kind as to not let me completely in the dark.
She's very reserved—at least when her temper doesn't get the better of her.
I'd love her temper to get the better of her. Especially now.
Is that so?
Oh yes. I think if she'd slapped me or shouted at me down in the dungeons, I would have—.
We would have startled her even more. Even that small touch was enough to make her rush away. She seems to do that quite a lot when we're alone with her.
So now it's 'we'? I don't remember you being of any help in that matter. Ever since, you weren't of help.
It was only two days, for heaven's sake! Give me some time to get a grip on myself.
Time. Time waits for nobody. So why should I wait for you? I must come up with something more of a plan myself then.
Well… Valentine's Day would be—.
I could ask her to go to the Ball with me…
Ha! That was a good one.
What's so funny?
I can imagine your expression when you ask her. I think you remember—.
Quiet. This is totally different.
Is it now?
Yes.
Doesn't matter. You wouldn't get the sentence over your lips anyway.
Enough. Change of subject. We're heading for a lesson. We're supposed to be favouring Slytherins again.
And that when you'd rather favour a very special Ex-Slytherin?
Stop it now. I must concentrate on—.
On sucking up to Malfoy?
Well, you know the deal—although I'd recommend a bit more subtlety.
Yes, keep on pretending.
Right.
You're aware that she isn't very fond of your favourite student?
Tell me something I don't know. Gods, I hate it. This whole situation is wearing on my nerves. Playing the Death Eater, waiting for Voldemort's call. I hate it. And every passing day I hate it more!
So Severus's thoughts had drifted off towards unpleasant things again—although those were things far easier to handle than the more pleasant—but very much more difficult to handle—ones.
He slammed the door shut and rushed towards the teacher's desk. A dim light seeped in through the high windows. The sky was a sickly yellowish grey. It matched Severus's mood completely as he scanned the class. Twenty students. Half of them Slytherins. At least half of them destined to follow the lead of their parents. It made him angry and sad at the same time that he couldn't do anything about it. If he were to keep up the charade properly, there was nothing that he could do. On the contrary. It was a dead-end situation.
~*~*~
Snape didn't look particularly cheerful when he entered the Potions classroom—not that that was something new…
"Two students to a cauldron. If Miss Granger would be so kind as to assist Mr Longbottom?" Snape sneered. "I'd prefer it if this room were still usable after this lesson. That way there's at least a small chance that this will be possible." A nasty smile crept onto his face. "As an added bonus, this arrangement will prove quite helpful to prevent any distractions that could result from Mr Weasley and Miss Granger's being put together. What a pity to split the perfect couple, isn't it?"
Ron shot Snape a glare that greatly resembled the one Snape usually reserved for Harry. It was strange to see that expression on Ron's face. Hermione wordlessly walked to where Neville was sitting. Neville breathed a sigh of relief.
And Malfoy… Well, Malfoy was just being Malfoy. What a sad life he must have that he had to draw his joy from the misery of others… And as usual, Snape didn't even react to what Malfoy said or did.
Briskly, Snape turned and began to write the ingredients for an Asclepius Healing Potion on the blackboard. The list was endless, more than two dozens different ingredients. And there were only very small amounts of each one of them required. It would be hell to weigh and cut all this stuff accurately. This promised to be even worse than the Sleeping Potion they had brewed last lesson.
"And be careful with the bubotuber pus. Highly corrosive if undiluted—use your Dragonhide gloves. But it's a very good disinfectant if added to the potion. The added nightshade ensures that it doesn't cause too much pain when the potion's applied on the wound…"
"So he doesn't like the prospect of a Valentine Ball? Fine! But no reason to take it out on us," Ron complained softly.
"As if he needed a reason," Harry muttered.
"He's not even forced to take dancing lessons on account of a certain bushy-haired person…" Ron replied.
~*~*~
On 14th February, the dreaded Valentine's Day—although the Ball in itself was something she looked forward to—Sariss was sitting at the Head Table, her head propped up on her hand, a fork in the other hand, looking rather grumpy and feeling the same way although everyone around her still seemed to be in good spirits. That, however, didn't have the usual effect on her, since she had spent the distance from the Owlery to the Great Hall running—at fast pace—to escape from one of those little nasty singing Valentine delivery midgets. It had tackled her rather unceremoniously in the first floor corridor, then had sat in the hollows of her knees, thus preventing her from running away, and had sung its stupid, stupid, stupid poem (if one could call it that), while Sariss had propped her head up on her elbow and impatiently drummed on the floor with her fingernails, making small clicking noises. She could have thrown it off easily, no doubt about that, but she didn't want to hurt the little fellow, no matter how irritating he was…
The Owlery had been a good place to while away the hours before noon. She'd been hoping that the worst of Valentine's Day would have passed by then and only the pleasant aspects remained. No such luck. She should have stayed up there until evening, talking to Oberon, her pet raven.
Well, Oberon wasn't really a pet. He was some sort of friend. He followed her. One day he'd been there, and hadn't flown away when Sariss had approached the bird. It had even settled on her shoulder. The next day, it had been there again. Sariss had given him a treat on one of the following days. Sometimes it hadn't come back for days or even weeks, but then it was there again and stayed for several days. Then Sariss had given him his name. From that day on, it had become a he. Oberon.
Actually, Sariss had merely wanted to send a letter to Mundungus Fletcher, her old comrade in arms, so to speak, when Oberon had swept in. She hadn't seen him for months. How to tell a bird that you were moving somewhere else and not coming back? But there he had been, curiously eyeing her and gently nibbling on her ear as soon as she'd offered him her arm. He'd found her, clever bird that he was.
She'd go up to the Owlery to visit him more often. Or she'd leave a window in her study open, so that he could come in whenever he wanted. He needed no attention from her. He was merely there, not begrudging her that she was sometimes too occupied with other things to talk to him. It was nice to see him perched on the windowsill when she looked up from her work or stroking his feathers and telling him goodnight before she went to bed.
Yes, it would be nice if Oberon looked after her from time to time. Her winged guardian. Maybe she'd even fly with him…
Those thoughts had been wandering through her mind when she'd made her way to the Great Hall. She'd been lost in her thoughts. She hadn't been attentive to little fast footsteps…
Thus, it was that despite all otherwise efforts the little nasty singing Valentine delivery midget had accomplished its embarrassing and very annoying task. It had hobbled away merrily, on the lookout for another poor victim already.
Some student around here must have considerably too much time on his hands. That much had become clear. Perhaps she should have given them more homework…
Should she feel flattered? She had no idea. Fact was that the display had been fairly embarrassing. Fortunately, she had been late, so no one had seen it. She only feared that more people had had the idea.
Did Dumbledore, too, receive singing Valentine deliveries? Or McGonagall? Flitwick? Sprout? Sinistra? Snape?
Of course not! They were considerably older than the students. As it was now, Sariss was the only teacher who could have passed as a seventh year. So she had to suffer the consequences… Perhaps she should have been scarier? Perhaps she should have glared more than smiled?
"You don't look very enthusiastic, my dear," Dumbledore observed.
"That might be because I am not," Sariss replied. "I had an encounter with one of those midgets, terrible. I wished the earth would open up and swallow me. How could you organize such a thing?"
Dumbledore grinned. "That was what I had been referring to as 'simply hilarious'."
"My, my, aren't we cheerful today…" Snape had sat down next to Sariss while she had been talking to Dumbledore. "Pray tell, why is a girl like you so extraordinarily cheerful on a day like this?"
Sariss decided she'd grace this quite sarcastic question with an answer. She excused herself from Dumbledore and turned towards the Potions master, saying, "I skipped breakfast because of this insanity and the little monster-midget still caught me. I'm perfectly sure the painting on the seventh floor gave me away. I'm so going to kill that stupid little knight—and his pony, too. This Valentine horror is still as bad as it was when I was a student," she muttered.
"Well then what did the little monster sing?"
Sariss rolled her eyes. "You don't want to know."
"I do and if only to get myself a good laugh in the midst of all of this insane pink hearty-ness. I just had a really bad déjà-vu on entering this room…"
"You did?"
"Uh-huh." Snape didn't exactly sound very enthusiastic either.
"Tell me about it." This could prove to be interesting…
Snape groaned. "Does the name Lockhart ring a bell?"
"Of course it does," Sariss stated brightly. This will prove to be interesting.
"Don't tell me you're a fan of his."
"Nah. Surely not. I mean he does have a nice smile and all—." Snape cringed visibly as she said that. "But other than that… Let me let you in on something, the man has not done anything of what he's written in his books—and luckily he still can't even remember that he's such an idiot because of this really lovely accident that happened a few years ago. I hear his wand somehow backfired?"
"Sort of… So you're not a fan of his? You're exactly the type for it."
Sariss crossed her arms. "What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.
"Not unknown in the wizarding world yourself—he likes to grace himself with people who are… rather well-known. He likes to bathe in attention. But contrary to him, you really did what you say you did—."
"Sometimes I wish I hadn't," Sariss muttered, but Snape didn't react.
"—and he likes to be surrounded by er… well… pretty things—such as himself, although he is only pretty dumb—still."
The Potions master said all of this so dryly that Sariss snorted. "Pretty dumb, huh? Not very creative."
"Any better ideas? I'm all for some suggestions…"
He called you 'pretty', dear.
Did he now?
You noticed it. Well hidden in an insult of Lockhart's vanity, but nonetheless…
So he thinks I'm pretty?
Yes…
He's just flattered me… I can't believe it.
I think he's trying to flirt with you.
Ridiculous. If there's one thing Severus Snape wouldn't do, it is flirt—at least not in a way anyone would notice.
Are you kidding? May I remind you of what happened in the Potions dungeon? That was flirting—and it was crowned by a kiss. And now this is well beyond your usual cool discussions about potions ingredients and Quidditch and those beating-about-the-bush-dialogues that you seem to have perfected.
Well, he might be flirting with me. So what? I'm not flirting back.
You are.
Am not. Not in the slightest.
You're being much wittier and more humorous than usual. Why might that be?
Maybe it's because he's the only one who isn't into this artificial happiness thing that is Valentine's Day? Snap your fingers and get ready to show that you love someone—when the rest of the year you treat them like dirt?
Why so pessimistic?
It's so staged. Most of this isn't real. I can sense it.
Perhaps you should reply to your adorable Potions master's question now?
Adorable?!
"Er…" Sariss began, faltering. "I know words that express what he is. But they don't seem to be appreciated when I say them. The friendliest expression would be show-off—or git—or raving egomaniac. And those aren't even the really bad ones…"
"I most certainly would appreciate every single one of the really bad ones…" he trailed off. "But then again, you'd probably tell me nothing new."
"Why, what did he do to you?"
"Among other things: He was extremely annoying and he stole the position I still am after." Snape managed something that looked almost like a sarcastic smile. Almost.
"Should I feel threatened?" Sariss asked, quite enjoying herself now, a smirk applying itself firmly to her face.
"Are you?" he replied in the same tone of voice.
"Not really. I could handle you every day, single-handed."
"You're quite full of yourself, aren't you?" That clearly wasn't meant as an insult; he sounded much too amused for that.
"No more than you are full of yourself."
Sariss sipped a bit of pumpkin juice.
Lovely, how the two of you manage to insult each other in such a teasing way… It's a bit unconventional, but if it isn't flirting, I don't know what it is.
"So… Out with it, what did the midget sing?" he broke the sudden silence.
"It actually called me a broad." She rolled her eyes.
Snape raised his eyebrows. "It did—."
"A hot broad, to be exact—can't tell what could have given them the idea—among other things about which I do not want to go into detail. But someone in here has been copying dear old William and replaced certain terms with ones like the one I just mentioned—and don't you dare repeat it."
"I'd never."
"Good, I'd have to kill you if you did," Sariss said in a deadly serious voice.
"They could have called you worse. I definitely could," Snape drawled.
"Sure you could. So could I."
"Like what, for example?"
"Ask the headmaster. I'm afraid I lost my temper and forgot about my manners when the conversation turned to you—once. And I'm so sorry about it. Not."
"You losing your temper? Now that's something that doesn't happen every day," he said quite sarcastically.
"I agree. With you around, it happens every five minutes."
It was not a one-timer. You can have a real conversation with this man. Bickering, but nonetheless… It's quite funny…
And you're doing quite well, too, dear—
Thank you.
—I wonder how you manage that when you think he's so—.
Don't push it.
"That was a good one."
"Why thank you. I've been practicing for two months to get that line right," Sariss replied dryly, however with a small smirk.
"So…" he began. "Now that we have managed to establish a halfway decent conversation—once again—which is quite remarkable in itself—what are you going to wear tonight?"
"Why this sudden interest in my clothing?" Sariss couldn't stop herself from saying that—and in a tone like that! Another unbidden thought that had just slipped over her tongue. She felt her cheeks go hot. "I can't believe I said that…" she muttered, not looking at Snape's face.
She could almost sense the smirk that was aching to be allowed to crawl onto his face. "Just curious, that's all," he said, sounding more than a bit amused.
He hides his emotions very well, doesn't he?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Come on, you do sense it. Don't deny it any longer. You know what you felt coming from him not a very long time ago. The last time you were really alone with him, at night, when it was dark outside, down in the dungeons, so close to him that--.
Have mercy on me.
Don't you get it in your head, you coward?
I'm not a coward!
What would you call it then? You want to be… well… swept up and taken away on white horse—in your case: black horse—to your sweet prince's castle—in your case: fiercely desirable Potions master's dungeon. And you're too scared to make it easier for him!
So you finally found out what to do about this situation?
Not quite. By tonight, I hope to be able to provide a bit of advice. One just can't let a dance pass by without using the opportunity…
Oh dear… What if I make a fool out of myself tonight?
You won't. One thing I can tell you—and you know it quite well yourself. He likes you. Very.
He doesn't.
You're actually talking with him and neither one of you shouts at the other one… That alone would be enough to confirm any suspicions I might have—even without knowing about the 'incident' in the Potions—.
I get it. So if he likes me… It doesn't matter. Most of the time, he's obnoxious and sneering. I can't believe that he… that I actually—.
I'm telling you, he's enjoying himself greatly in your little bickering contest.
It's not a contest.
You keep telling yourself that… One thing: Implicate and insinuate. You're doing quite well so far.
"At least give me a hint," he said when she hadn't answered after a few long moments.
"Why? Do you want to ask me to accompany you?" she drawled.
Yes! That's it! Fantastic, the way you said that, dear.
I'm getting the hang of this…
"I wouldn't dare. You'd rip my head off if I did, wouldn't you?"
"I might… Then again, I might not. I already had my chances… But it wouldn't be of much use asking me anyway."
"And why is that?" Snape asked softly.
Did he actually sound a bit disappointed now?
"Because you as well as I will be present either way," Sariss said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world—which it was.
"Then tell me about your costume already," he said, quite impatient by now.
"Tell me one good reason."
"You sure love being annoying, don't you?"
"Took you long enough to realize."
"Enough of all of this bickering. I usually quite enjoy it, but this is getting ridiculous. I asked you a very simple question and stupid as I seem to be I was actually expecting a very simple answer, which seems not possible when asking you something—."
"Elizabethan," Sariss said quickly.
"Excuse me? What did you say?"
"I am going to wear something Elizabethan. Happy now?"
"Very."
"Pity," she drawled, smirking at him. "I would have loved to make you miserable."
"It takes much more to make me miserable."
"Like what?"
"I'm not going to tell you. You're exactly the type of… person to do just that. If you'll excuse me?"
"Certainly," Sariss said.
Why this sudden hurry?
"One thing that would make me really miserable," he said as he stood up, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "would be…"
"What?"
Oh, please, don't come any closer…
He straightened up again. "Nothing."
Bingo. He does like you.
But I don't like him! I just can't seem to forget how he… how his… how…
Sure, you like him! I can still see you stuttering in Dumbledore's office—.
Don't remind me. I'm so glad that he seems to have forgotten.
He seems to. And you do like the er… what was it you called him? The obnoxious and sneering Potions master, wasn't it?
Yes.
Yes, what?
Shut up. I've got to go now and get some work done before I get ready for the party.
We.
What?
We get ready for the party. And I will see to it that you behave—
I always behave.
—like a lady and be nice to the obnoxious, sneering Potions master you find so adorable—.
Which he is quite obviously not!
You keep telling yourself that. He's the complete opposite of that idiot Lockhart—you're lucky to only have him met once—.
Which was quite sufficient, too…
What I wanted to tell you… He's—I mean dark handsome Severus Snape—he's exactly your type, isn't he?
Oh, please.
Why else would you be bickering so well?
You sound like Dumbledore.
That was what I intended… And now go and make yourself beautiful—after getting some work done first, of course… You workaholic…
Humph.
"If you'll excuse me, Professors, I—."
"You've got to get ready for the party tonight, I understand," Dumbledore said, with a smile. "And I must thank you for helping with transfiguring all those costumes. The students seem to really like what you did with their clothes."
"I only made them look like they wanted to. Nothing else. I'll see you tonight, Professors." Sariss stood up and went on her way towards her chambers. However as soon as she had started to walk up the marble staircase a midget seemingly appeared out of nowhere, skittered to a halt at the foot of the stairs and started running after her, screaming at the top of its lungs for her to stop—which she did absolutely not. On the contrary.
Sariss had learnt her lesson and added a bit of speed as she dashed along the first floor corridor, around a corner—right into Snape. "Now that's something that doesn't happen every day," he smirked. "A beautiful woman throwing herself—."
"For once in your life do me a favour and save me, please. I can't take another one of those," she whispered, jerking her thumb in direction of the corridor where the midget must be appearing any moment now.
He raised his eyebrows for a second and then swept around the corner. A low thudding noise and a small screech indicated that the midget had apparently had an encounter with Severus Snape that was similar to Sariss's.
~*~*~
Something heavy bumped right into the Potions master when he walked along the first floor corridor. His brain took a while to process what had happened and whom it was he had collided with.
"Now that's something that doesn't happen every day," he said, surprised—and rather pleased, he had to admit—that of all people it had to be her. "A beautiful woman throwing herself—."
"For once in your life do me a favour and save me, please. I can't take another one of those," she panted, jerking her thumb in direction of the corridor.
One of those?
Valentine delivery midget monster thing. You know the deal. Good you listened to me and didn't send her one yourself, isn't it?
She would have liked one of mine. I'd have quoted Shakespeare without any changes.
No comment.
Wordlessly, Snape rushed around the corner, and the midget, too, bumped into him. It was not quite as pleasant as the first collision…
"Watch where you're going, you little—," Severus said, quite enjoying the fact that this day had—despite all those pink hearts—turned out rather nicely. A little bickering contest with Sariss Ravon—any time. She was witty, when she wanted to. Lovely…
"Say, you don't happen to have seen—," the little fellow began.
"I haven't," the Potions master growled.
"You haven't even—."
"Exactly. I haven't," he said harshly, glowering down at the creature. "Now there's a little riddle for you. Put the following words in a sentence: Off. Hell. The. Sod. Got it?"
It looked up at him, a puzzled expression on its ugly face.
"Sod the hell off!" In addition to that, Severus gave the midget a glare that could have made hell freeze over.
It cringed and stumbled a few steps back, then made a 180-degrees-turn and dashed through the corridor as fast as the short legs would allow it—or maybe just slightly faster than possible.
Sariss Ravon was leaning against the wall, regaining the ability to breathe normally.
"My hero. You saved my life…" she said and managed a little smile.
"Glad I could be of help," Severus smirked and bowed. "Milady."
She smirked back. "Well, thank you very much, again, sir, but I must excuse myself now," she replied, matching his undertone perfectly. They could have been actors on a stage. "There's still some work to be done before getting ready for the festivities. I'll just have to try my luck and see if I can sneak into my office unnoticed—I just wonder where it might be at the moment…" She looked thoughtful and then slapped her forehead. "That I haven't thought of that already. Sometimes I'm really slow. I have no idea why the Sorting Hat recommended Ravenclaw for me—aside from the obvious, that is."
"You being in Ravenclaw would have cost us several House Cups," he stated dryly.
You're doing well today. It's not so hard to be nice to her, after all, is it?
It would be much easier if I could find the right words…
Just do what you do best.
What? Be sarcastic and sneer a bit?
She didn't seem to mind earlier today.
Hmm. I wonder…
"If you say so, Professor…" she smiled slightly, his compliment hitting home. "All right then, have a nice day, Professor Snape. Hope to see you tonight…"
And she transformed into a large black bird. Severus started a bit, but them remembered that she was an Animagus. Was she a raven? He couldn't be sure because her wings were flapping too fast, but it was as good a guess as any.
"How appropriate…" he muttered as the bird-Sariss Ravon flew down the corridor out of sight.
She said, 'Hope to see you'…
Don't read too much into—.
Now for my costume… I should ask Flitwick, he's better at those things… Elizabethan. That means tights. A man in tights.
Severus cringed slightly.
I never thought I'd do this just to get the attention of a very annoying—yet charming—woman. Severus Snape goes through this ordeal only to have her notice him. Oh my god. This is so weird. This is so not me. I really shouldn't do this. I really shouldn't. Somebody talk some sense into me, which I don't seem to possess anymore when it comes to her.
Ah, well, a nice long cloak and then it should be alright. They're all going to look stupid.
At least I'm not the only one then. And Filius will surely know what to do about that. He had quite some students to take care of already. So I shouldn't be much of a problem… But under no circumstances will I wear something cerulean. No way—I should have asked about the colour of her Elizabethan costume… The smallest of my problems. Let's go see Flitwick. He'll laugh his head off first and then he'll hopefully find something suitable. Oh, am I dreading this evening…
Regard it as a game of chess.
What, make sacrifices?
Exactly.
That doesn't guarantee anything.
…
Oh, now you've shut up, huh?
~*~*~
"We'll catch up on you," Ginny said to Ron and Hermione. "So, what's up, Harry?"
"Something's different about you today, Gin," Harry said, applying a thoughtful look to his face. "Let me think. What could it be? And why might I have a little parcel for you? If only I could remember… Can you help me remember?"
Ginny sniggered. "Oh, I might just have the right incentive for your non-reliable brain." She gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Not more?"
"After you've given up the pretence."
"Okay, there you are, Gin," he proffered the little parcel. "Happy seventeenth birthday and Happy Valentine."
"Thank you!" she exclaimed and this time kissed him full on the lips. "What is it?"
"You'll have to open it."
"But it looks so pretty. Where did you get it? How could I have missed you buying it in Hogsmeade?"
"I shamelessly sneaked off while you and Hermione were off doing whatever it is girls do when their boyfriends aren't there. Last weekend," Harry said. "What are girls doing when their boyfriends aren't there, by the way?"
"Why, talking about their boyfriends' cute backsides, of course," Ginny grinned.
"You're kidding, aren't you?"
"I don't know, am I?"
She began to open the present, carefully undoing the knot and unwrapping the paper. Then she opened the box.
Harry was quite excited. She simply must like her present. After all, he had asked Ron's advice. He should know what kinds of things his sister liked, shouldn't he? And as Harry knew Ginny quite well himself by now, he too thought that it would look great on her.
"Wow! This is… I don't… Wow…" She lifted up the fine golden necklace. A small ruby was crafted into the star-shaped pendant. "And a bracelet to go with it! Oh, Harry, it must have cost a fortune. You shouldn't—."
"Let me. I thought they'd look great with that dress you described to me—and also without, for that matter." Harry blushed and winked. "What do you think?"
"Definitely. You're going to faint tonight, I can tell you. Professor Ravon worked a miracle, and she didn't even take long for it. Do you mind if I don't put the jewellery on just yet? I'd like to save it for tonight."
"I'm convinced you'll look fantastic."
"I almost feel sorry for making you wear t—leggings."
"What was that?"
"Nothing." She sniggered and blushed embarrassedly. "Let's go to breakfast and watch the others struggle to get a last minute date for the Ball."
"Okay… Oh, and you weren't just on the verge of saying 'tights', were you?" Harry asked as they scrambled through the portrait hole.
"Um… no?" Ginny tried to sound innocent and pouted. "And even if I did, what are you going to do about it?"
"I could stand you up."
"You wouldn't!"
"Who says that?"
"You cannot possibly be serious."
"But you said 'tights'."
"I caught myself in time, didn't I?"
"You caught yourself, although not in time."
"Does it matter what I call them? Your legs are going to look very sexy, I'm sure," she said. "Hey, there are Ron and Hermione. I wonder if the big bloke gave her a present as lovely as you gave me. Let's catch up on them."
"Ginny…" Harry ran after her. She was such a whirlwind sometimes.
"Just look at that. Millicent wants to date Malfoy. I almost feel sorry for him," Harry heard Ron say.
"And that when he so obviously fancies Pansy. She's at least not twice his size. If I were a boy and had to choose between those two…" Hermione answered. "I just wonder what's taking Ginny and Harry so long."
"Probably found a place where they could sn—Oh! Hi, little sister."
"Don't you even try to cover it up, Ronald," Ginny said. "I heard you. And I can very well finish that sentence without your help."
"I think I'm particularly hungry today… Hermione, save me from my sister's wrath, please?"
"I'm sure he only wanted to say 'A place where you could talk'," Hermione said. "Didn't you?"
"Um…"
"Of course, Ron. It's not that Ginny would act any different if she were you," Harry said with a grin.
"Traitor," Ginny wrinkled her nose at him. "Don't think that because of an expensive gift you can play the cool guy all of a sudden."
They had by then arrived at the Gryffindor table where a quite obviously fairly nervous Neville Longbottom sat down next to Parvati Patil.
"Um… Parvati? I'm… Well…"
"What is it, Neville?"
"This is for you. A Valentine present. There you are." A deeply crimson-faced Neville handed Parvati a white rose.
It's about high time that he gathered the courage, thought Harry.
"Thank you," she said, accepting his gift. "This is nice of you."
"I was just wondering… Do you already have a date for the Ball tonight?"
"Why didn't you ask me earlier?"
"Oh, well, never mind." It was hardly believable that Neville was so shy.
"Wait a minute, Neville. Did I explicitly say I already had a date?"
"No…" he said slowly.
"Then ask me already, stupid."
"Parvati, would you…" he trailed off, insecure.
"Yes? Go on," she prompted.
"Would you… accompany me to the Ball tonight?" he finally rushed it out.
"I'd love to, Neville, really."
He blinked, surprised, and then breathed an obvious sigh of relief that caught in his throat when Parvati kissed him on the cheek. Neville blushed even more deeply crimson, just like Parvati.
"Now I'm convinced," she said, "that I'm going to enjoy this evening."
"I can hardly wait. It's going to be great tonight," Hermione said.
"I could wait forever," Ron answered. "How ever did you get me to wear those… things?"
"Don't start with that again."
"Boys," Ginny muttered. "They just can't accept our hands when it comes down to putting certain clothes on."
"But we'd love to have them taken off again," Harry said suggestively and made Ginny blush.
"Oh you! Really," she rolled her eyes. "Oh! Hermione, you won't believe what Harry gave me for my birthday. It's so pretty."
"I know that Ron helped with it, so I'm not quite convinced that it's pretty, but if you say so," she joked.
"No comment on that," Ron said. "Girls. It's always the same. We're going through hell to find a nice present for them and they don't even acknowledge us for it."
Both girls tsked.
"What?"
"I think I'll go and study before we get dressed and all that," Hermione said. "Ginny? Would you like to come with me? You, at least, care about your marks."
"We care, too," Ron said.
"I'm coming with you, 'Mione," Ginny said. "See you tonight, Harry."
Harry could have sworn he heard her mutter, "and in tights," but he couldn't be quite sure.
"See you, love."
"So… Care for a game of chess, or two?" Ron asked. "I can't bring myself to study on a day like this."
"Okay. Let's study tomorrow instead. I'm still tired from last night anyway."
"Oh… Alright."
Next chapter:
Getting ready for the Ball, dancing—and snogging.