A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I have lovely news! My editor just had her first baby, a little boy named Aidan. I was a bit nervous waiting for him and couldn't think. Now that he's here, though, we have a captive audience to read things to. Babies are 'specially good listeners. Here you go.

Chapter Twenty-Four: Glass Slippers

"You do realize how uncomfortable this is," Hermione pointed out to Cass. "I look like a…well, it isn't good."

"Look on the bright side. You don't have to bind your chest, wear a scritchy beard, or pretend to be a completely different gender than you are."

"As opposed to a semi-different gender?"

"Don't be a hag. It's bad enough Ron got bitch-slapped again today." Hermione looked surprised.

"When?"

"Divination. He came to class with a red mark on his cheek, so I gave him a Yank ice-pack." Cass clarified a moment later: "You put a soda bottle in the freezer, hold it where it hurts, then drink it afterward."

"How clever," Hermione observed sarcastically.

"Cripes, Sevvy's rubbing off on you! No, Hermione! Stay back! Do not go toward the light!"

"I'm sorry. I'm just nervous or something."

"'Or something' meaning your shoes hurt?"

"No, they're fine. You have bigger feet than me."

"True. I'm a little nervous, too." Cass smiled calmly, looking about as nervous as Hagrid would at the zoo. She had a nasty habit of looking positively serene lately. Hermione picked up a third donut and began to nibble it. "You like those?"

"I think they'd be better with coconut on top, but yeah."

"There are coconut donuts everywhere. The Krispy Kreme is meant to be served au naturel."

"Ah. Donut etiquette." Albus Dumbledore had appeared at the door. His eyes twinkled at Cass's efforts to glue the beard on realistically. "May I? I'm sort of familiar with the look." Very adeptly, the old wizard stuck the whiskers on, more in places, fewer in others, until instead of the fuzzy mess 'Flynn' had worn before, Cass had a neat, realistic-looking moustache and goatee. "It looks rather like John's, doesn't it?"

"John's? His is loads-" Cass stopped short mid-gluing and saw her husband in the mirror, framed in the doorway. He had trimmed his whiskers into looking more like a French gentleman and less like the gamekeeper. Dumbledore's new style of beard couldn't hide a decidedly unmanly blush on Cass's face. "Maybe I can lose the beard."

"I think that would be best," Albus agreed. "It's sticky and liable to attach to your glass or something later. Better to grow one's own."

"I sort of can't."

"Don't worry. Minerva showed me how to do this once." Carefully, the headmaster applied some bronzer and a quick tanning charm to Cass's face. It didn't do very much while she was dressed in her worn Penguins t-shirt, but when she pulled Severus's jacket over John's dress shirt, it made her look rather older and decidedly less like a refugee from a San Francisco drag club.

"That was neat," Cass observed, looking herself over. "I'm not pale."

John put his arms around her from behind; making a whispery sound that was either very quiet English or Wolfish. Cass turned her head, replying in kind, and kissed him. They were a darling couple and even the first-years were used to it, but lately John had seemed more protective and affectionate than was usual even for him. Hermione tactfully turned to the other mirror and began putting on her earrings –or attempting to. They were not cooperating very well at all.

"May I?" a familiar silky voice inquired. Hermione smiled and let Severus help her. He leaned close to her ear and whispered: "You look wonderful."

"Thanks," she whispered back nervously.

"Don't be frightened. Lucius isn't quite the terror he makes himself out to be. Just imagine him as a first-year with nightmares after Binns' class." Hermione giggled.

"Was he?"

"Narcissa insists he was. I'm not old enough to recall him except as a fifth-year or so. I do, however, remember playing Quidditch with him. If he weren't a Death Eater I think you and he would get along quite well, though he is a bit slow for you." Hermione was surprised by that and not a little flattered. "He doesn't read very much unless there's a purpose and he's rather one-sided, but we usually got along. And you'll love Narcissa. She reminds me of an older, less Yankish Cassandra with a better mind."

Hermione couldn't help wondering for the umpteenth time if Severus had been in love with Narcissa Malfoy. As if on cue, Cass came up behind the professor and grinned.

"Excepting of course that she's blond. Everybody knows that only dark-haired girls are cute." The werewolf playfully flipped at Severus's hair. "Idn't 'at right, Sevvy?"

"Actually, yes, I have always found dark hair more attractive." Severus smiled wryly. "Narcissa told me years ago that blondes were all secretly afraid of being as stupid as the jokes would have you think. She gave me lots of silly advice…I was sort of a younger brother to her, I guess."

And that settled that matter. Hermione restrained a sigh of relief only as well as Cass restrained a smirk. Bill Weasley came in just then, wearing a set of very nice black dress robes.

"Sorry to sound a git, but can someone get this tie?" The redhaired professor smiled haplessly as Cass did it up for him. "Thanks. Just a bit nervous, I guess."

"Ron can't tie his own tie, either," Hermione reassured.

"That's what we women are here for," Cass agreed. "'A woman's place is in the House and also in the Senate.'"

"Speaking of?" Snape leaned over a little and had Hermione tie his. "Thank you, dear."

"See?" Bill smiled obtusely. "I knew you weren't really as mean to your students as all that, Severus."

"Er, no, Bill. I find a bit of sharpness improves discipline."

"Yep. His being a snarky git is dead helpful, too." Cass brushed some lint off her sleeve and grinned. "Makes the kids like me even more."

"At least you're married," Dumbledore pointed out. "Quite a lot of the hopeless fantasies in Sibyll's room involve dishy redhaired men." Bill went appropriately scarlet and Cass scoffed.

"Are you aware that there's now a waiting list of girls with the hots for John in case I die?"

"And an equal number of sixth-year boys for you," Hermione pointed out mischievously. "Sometimes I don't think Ron is just joking when he asks you to elope." Cass looked oddly gratified.

"How lovely! Why couldn't that have happened when I was their age?"

"Because you would give new meaning to cradle-robbing, then?" Bill asked, a momentary flicker crossing his eyes. "I overheard a nasty conversation the other night; which teachers are the most shag-worthy."

"Oh, do tell," Severus responded sarcastically, dropping a cufflink. Hermione got it and began to help him with a smile. "Has Sibyll gotten out of negative rating yet?"

"You and I head the list actually, old man," Bill remarked in a dead-on parody of Lockhart. "Together we merit the front page, at least."

"Be right back," Cass announced, going off to look for something in the other room and motioning for Hermione to follow, which she did.

"And who is winning in the female division?" John asked, as soon as she had left.

"Your wife, of course."

"Oh, good. I do so love being envied abjectly," the werewolf observed. "And who can blame them?" He sighed contentedly. "I'll give it five years and you'll have the same problem, Severus. And you'll love it when you do."

Bill was too busy doing his cufflinks to catch that remark. He looked up a second later and sniffed.

"Are those brownies I smell?"

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"Mum?"

Narcissa put down her wand and turned to greet her son.

"Draco, dear, you look wonderful. Shall I do up your tie?"

"Thank you," Draco looked quite relieved. She finished and kissed him on the cheek. Blushing, he took a square package from behind his back. "I got you something for –well, not for anything, just felt you might like it."

"Thank you, dear. I got you something, too." Narcissa handed her son a little box. "Count of three?"

They both opened the gifts at once and both were astonished.

"Mum! Is this a Wronski Snitch?"

"Oh, Draco! Where on earth did you get these?"

"One of my professors helped…Mum, this is really cool."

"I had ordered it for your birthday, but it was late…do you like it?"

"Mum, it's wonderful! You like yours?"

"Draco, I couldn't be more pleased. Oh, Petula Clark! I used to sing this song to you when you were a baby. And Sir Elton John!"

"Do you think father will be angry?" Draco asked, glancing at the records again. Narcissa grinned.

"What have I always taught you, dear?" Draco replied in unison. "What a Slytherin man doesn't know won't hurt him too badly." Narcissa smiled and then grew a touch sterner. "I do mean that, dear. I'm very glad you've been doing well in American Muggle Studies actually. If nothing else, Muggles are useful for their arts."

"I've been thinking maybe it's wizards' job to protect Muggles instead of hurting them," Draco remarked. "In America they built Muggle preserves during the war with Grindelwald. Called them planned suburban communities."

"I've seen those. Do Muggles like them?"

"Some do. Professor Tyler says they're boring."

"What does your Professor Tyler say about the American South?" Draco cleared his throat and quoted:

"'Wonderful food, nice chivalry, and plenty of peanuts.' She doesn't like the specists, but then, she's a werewolf. Married to one, too."

"I don't much care for specists, either. Werewolves are very good cooks and even better perfumers." Narcissa put a touch of Chanel No. 5 on her wrists. "I had an owl from Kate and Sal today. Theodoric's learned to read."

"Really?" Draco's uncle Salazar was married to an American witch and had a little son. "Does he like the books I sent?"

"You can read the letter." Narcissa handed her son the parchment and smiled. "He's written you a bit of a note, too."

"'Dear Draco,'" Malfoy read aloud. "'I can read. I licked' –must mean liked- 'the book about Howgarts. Dubmildore sounds nice. Thank you for sending me them. Love, Theodoric.' His spelling needs work, but he's doing pretty well for his age."

"I remember when you learned to write. Three bottles of ink you'd spill just to get a letter done."

"Looks like Theodoric wrote his in crayon."

"Your aunt Kate is a wise woman," Narcissa replied. "And she has much nicer rugs."

"Mum? Is it true you've invited Americans?"

"Yes, your father asked two of them. A Billy Flynn and his girlfriend, from Chicago, wherever that is." Narcissa was trying her best to look reasonably airheaded. "Do me up the back, would you?" Draco obediently zipped up his mother's robes. "Why, were you wanting to practice your Yank accent?"

"No, I just sort of wondered. Why would Father invite them if he detests them so?"

"Probably trying to look good in front of Fudge. Speaking of, do you like this one?" Narcissa turned around and posed.

"You look lovely, Mum."

"Thank you. I always did like burgundy velvet." Narcissa brushed as bit of lint off of her son's robes and he offered her his arm.

"Shall we, then?"

"Of course!"

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'The Malfoys' Ball is always a social event to remember. To quite a few witches' surprise, Narcissa Malfoy spent most of the evening chatting with Molly Weasley about their sons and the new teachers at Hogwarts, while her son, Draco, seemed intent on dancing politely with every woman his father introduced to him. The two American guests, Billy Flynn and a young woman called Erin, were unobtrusively charming and seemed quite at ease. Among the notables seen were Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Quidditch legend Ludovic Bagman, who danced athletically with the American female. Late in the evening, several male guests vanished from the room set apart for brandy and cigars, along with Flynn, and the American did not return. We can only assume that he spoke with Professor Severus Snape about the new American presence at Hogwarts and simply was not seen later. Mrs. Malfoy happily entertained her guests in a newly redecorated ballroom, and Mr. Lucius Malfoy was seen shaking hands with many prominent wizards of the day. It can be said that a good time was had by all.
                                                                                    -Maggie Skeeter, Society'

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Hermione had never been more shaken in her life.

Ludo Bagman's dancing aside, the night had seemed to be going well, until Cass vanished along with the other men. Narcissa assured her that the men were simply off for brandy and cigars, but when Cass was still gone after an hour, she got worried and went to seek out her friend. What she saw was not a welcome sight.

Hermione crouched behind a thick furze-bush trimmed by the Malfoy house-elves to resemble a dragon. She could hear voices, but at first could not see anyone. Then a swirl of robes and a flash of white-blond hair revealed Lucius Malfoy, trick cane in hand.

"I asked you a question, yank."

Hermione was horrified to see the wizard draw his wand and run it under the chin of his interrogation subject. Cass, whose arms were being held by Crabbe and Goyle's fathers, didn't flinch.

"Shouldn't it be 'Mudblood' or 'filthy yank'?" the American spat arrogantly. "Seems like you're losing your touch, Lucy."

"Don't make me use this," Malfoy threatened, running the wand's tip across Cass's throat again. His frighteningly calm voice reiterated his threat: "Answer me or you will feel great pain."

There was a long pause and then, to Hermione's combined horror and pride in her friend's nerve, Cass spat at Malfoy's feet.

"Bring it on, moldblood."

"As you wish. Crucio!"

Cass was apparently a bit stronger than Malfoy knew, or else there was something neither he nor Hermione knew about at work. The curse seemed to ricochet off of Cass, hitting the executioner Macnair, who immediately became a whimpering ball on the ground. Cass seemed easily as surprised as Malfoy, and, swallowing hard, she spoke, with a tremble in her voice that hadn't been there before:

"Guess that didn't work for you, eh, Lucy?"

Malfoy turned on his heel to face Macnair. He helped the enormous man to his feet, showing unexpected strength, and took the wizard's wand away. Macnair, still weak from the Cruciatus, smiled darkly and held up a fist. Malfoy nodded.

"Take your revenge."

The elder Crabbe and Goyle pulled Cass's arms tighter until she was almost off the ground. As Malfoy walked away, Macnair put on a set of what could only be brass knuckles. Hermione was stunned –she had assumed Dark wizards only used magic! There was by now a decided tremor in Cass's brave grin, and Macnair advanced threateningly, meaty fist drawn back. As horrible as it was, Hermione couldn't look away. There was a horrible sound, like a thrown fruit landing on concrete, and the young witch screamed. At the last second, however, Hermione felt a hand clamp over her mouth, muffling her cry.

"Ssh!" The hand was freezing and Hermione smelled her mother's perfume. "Severus will stop it."

But the sound came again, and again. Severus did not appear to stop it, even as Cass began to groan and Macnair to laugh. Finally she heard a blistering profanity from the person behind her, and then a green ray of curse magic struck Macnair, singeing her ear as it passed. The big man fell, seeming almost to shake the ground, and Crabbe and Goyle dropped Cass in shock.

The werewolf didn't move.

Hermione felt the hand release her and she ran to her friend's side just as her captor ran to Macnair's. Cass was unconscious, perhaps mercifully, and a sharp kick to the executioner's head did the same. Crabbe and Goyle's fathers had run away, and Hermione wondered where Severus was. She tried everything she could think of, tapping Cass on the cheek, whispering her name sharply into her ears, but the werewolf was clearly out. The person who had cursed and then kicked Macnair leaned over her as well, drawing a bottle from within a hooded cloak.

"Potion?" Hermione asked.

"Better." The mysterious figure popped out the cork with a thumb and threw the contents in Cass's face. The werewolf started and began to cough. "Water –very cold water," the figure explained. "Severus, where the hell were you?"

"Your son," Snape explained, bending over Cass. "What was it?"

"Macnair beat the shit out of her, you great twit!" The figure quickly folded Cass's arms across her chest and grasped her ankles. "Well, come on, you two! Count of three!"

And without further ado, Hermione found herself supporting the midsection of her semiconscious friend. Severus had lifted her shoulders and then stopped suddenly, for both were dislocated. They carried Cass blindly, following the figure who had her ankles and seemed to know where they were headed. Finally, Hermione saw a Muggle car up ahead –a red antique Dusenberg.

"In the back, all of you. I'll drive." The mysterious wizard helped them for a moment nd then neatly jumped over the door to behind the wheel. Someone was already in the front passenger seat. Hermione had just gotten the door closed and Cass inside with her and Severus when the car started.

It was clearly not a Muggle car.

"I realize this is not the time, Mum, but you drive like a psychopath." The passenger in front looked back and Hermione saw his face. It was Draco Malfoy, and the driver could only be Narcissa herself. "Holy shit!"

The flying car drove past a clock tower, almost taking off the minute hand.

"Shut up and let me drive," the socialite commanded. Malfoy looked in horror at his teacher and Hermione, who was still in disguise.

"What happened?"

"Your father," Snape replied tersely.

"Unnnh," Cass groaned, looking dizzily around.

"Cass?" Hermione asked, leaning toward her friend.

"Yeah?"

"Is that Professor Tyler?"

"Yes, you little twit. Shut up." Narcissa gunned the engine and made a sharp turn toward a familiar-looking forest and castle.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"Oww," Cass replied, still semi-consciously. "Where's John?"

"He's alright. Don't worry," Severus reassured.

"Sevvy, 'zat you?" Cass looked dimly at Snape, who nodded.

"How are you?" the professor asked.

"I think I'm dyin'," Cass replied.

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