Chapter 3: The Leaving Feast
The jubilance of the Leaving Feast encompassed many of the occupants of Hogwarts, including your sinisterly occupied mind, but failed to yield any response from the withdrawn Mrs. Snape. Her husband among others had been called to assist in the tracking of rogue Death Eaters, owing to his intimate knowledge of them. But he was on a wild goose chase. You had orchestrated the entire ruse with your connections to the shadier members of magical society. With him out of the castle, you could leisurely toy with her.
Worried about him, are you? You have no idea what worrying is. Every time he would leave 12 Grimmauld Place, would you feel your heart go with him, fearing he would never return? How did you feel when he left, Hermione? Relieved you wouldn't have to endure his presence? You don't deserve him.
Let the games begin.
Arising from your seat, you maneuvered in between the circular tables Albus had scattered around the Great Hall, passed dancing graduates, and toward your target. She sat alone and gazed longingly at the couples dancing to the slow rhythm. She and you were the only professors unpaired for the occasion.
"Would you do me the honor of having this dance, milady?" you requested genteelly.
"I don't believe I am up to it, Draco."
"Nonsense," you admonished. "No woman in her right mind would pass up this opportunity. How many chances will you get to dance with the witty and dashing Draco Malfoy?"
"You arrogant prat," she replied playfully.
"You have me there, my dear, but what about that dance?"
"I suppose I have no choice."
"You can come voluntarily, or I can make a scene of dragging you kicking and screaming," you commented, grinning at the glare it earned you.
She finally accepted your outstretched hand and followed you to the dance floor. As you positioned your hands and moved through the steps, you could tell her movements were mechanical. Her mind was roaming.
"He will be all right, Hermione."
"I know, but I can't help worrying. I don't know what I would do without him."
A pang went through you at that remark, but you would worry about that later.
"He didn't survive years of spying to be lost now," you offered reassuringly.
"You're right, but why hasn't he contacted me?" she asked in a pleading tone. "I haven't heard from him in weeks. It isn't fair that he had to go on this mission. He has paid his debt."
"You know he would risk exposure by doing so. He is the best qualified compared to me or any other spy of the Order. Most of us started in our sixth year, while his experience dates back to He-Who-Still-Must-Not-Be-Named's first reign of terror."
"It's just frustrating not to be able to even talk to my husband."
"It will be over soon."
"I still cannot believe how you have changed over the years, Draco. Thank you. I needed to talk to someone."
As the music faded, she was lost among the scurrying couples, leaving you with a feeling of accomplishment.
Foolish girl, indeed.
A/N: Things are not as they appear... They never are in this story.