His hands, calloused from years of potionsaccidents, tugged on her zipper. It refused to move, forcing him to continue to tug, harder this time. One might even say in dominating, lordly way. Her taut back arched against his knuckles in a way that seemed almost feline. "I'm doing this solely to please you, you know," he groaned. "I'm getting no personal enjoyment out of this whatsoever. None..."

Finally, her zipper was as it ought to be, and she breathed a sigh of relief before remarking, "Well, look, Sevvie, I know fancy dress shopping isn't exactly your cup of tea, but Tom – I mean Vol – I mean El Elegance Elegante does insist on this party, and I didn't have any other time to pick out something to wear. I can't imagine how muggles deal with these idiotic zippers – how does anyone reach them?"

"I think the whole idea of wearing this sort of dress is that you won't have to remove it yourself," replied Severus, "though obviously, you're a married woman, so you will. Husband home yet?"

Bellatrix scowled, but returned to good spirits after catching sight of herself in the mirror. "God, I am stunning, aren't I?" she murmured. "Murder is so marvelous for the complexion. What a glamorous thing I am. The fact that I kill people just gives me that little extra edge that makes me, well, sexier, more compelling, doesn't it?" Severus remained silent until he noted Bellatrix fingering her wand a trifle menacingly. "Yes," he replied, "torturing people into insanity is very, very, hot."

"Hot?" Bellatrix crinkled her adorable nose.

"It's copasetic."

"We're going to bring back proper colloquialisms after the victory, you know. We'll be bringing back ingenious, entertaining slang with a vengeance."

"That will be..." Severus paused, "true blue."

"Speaking of blue, how do you feel about this dress?"

"That dress is not blue. It's green."

"I just meant it in the sense of we're talking about colors, so we might as well address my gown. I admit, it was a weak transition."

Severus stared at her pensively, his nostrils flaring out as he noted the delicately applied paillette appliqué. "I wonder..." he mused, causing Bellatrix to glance down at herself apprehensively and ruffle her skirt, "I wonder why everyone persists in thinking that I have any knowledge of what is or is not fashionable?"

"Probably something to do with your robes. They billow so dramatically, it seems like you put work into them."

"My robes billow?"

"You should get a full length mirror and watch yourself sometime."

"That's really why women ask me for advice on clothing? And ask in such a way that they seem to expect me to be able to offer valuable input?"

"Well, that and Snape Manor, of course."

"Snape Manor?"

"Otherwise known as Le Chateau de Snape. It's your ancestral castle in the South of France."

"I've never even been to the South of France. I have been to Paris, though."

"You have?"

"Lucius insisted I see it back in our student days. I couldn't afford both the train fare and a hotel, so I ended up sleeping on park benches."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"I honestly don't see what all the fuss is over. The whole city gave me a backache."

"Well, then, you should have stayed at Snape Manor."

"There is no Snape Manor."

"I heard from a very good source that there is. And that it comes stocked with a breathtaking wine cellar and a staff of ten thousand elves, which will win the heart of any maiden, even those with proletariat sensibilities. And it has a gate around it that's built of dung bombs and... I don't know, jewels."

"Bellatrix, you're not serious."

"It's a common misperception."

"You know, I always did feel that I ought to have a manor house growing up. I would sit around in that hovel they called an apartment and wait patiently for a man to come up to the door, and sweep me up in his arms exclaiming, "'Lord Severus, we've found you at last!" The man never materialized though. Thus, I do not have a manor."

"Well, people believing you have a manor is almost as good as actually having one, isn't it? Periodically, you should just say faintly cosmopolitan things like "I recall the night air in Paris..."

"I do. Bloody cold on those park benches."

"Or, 'this is a playful little merlot – it's nice after that somber yet frisky bordeaux.' And no one will ever, ever doubt that you have breathtaking property somewhere, and that you're practically landed gentry. If you don't want it to be in France – though I must tell you France does seem to be the common consensus – then put it in Russia. Or, ooh, I know, Romania!"

"So that Vlad the Impaler and I might take a nightly jaunt through the peasant's fields with our house elves skipping merrily along behind us?"

"You can compare notes on 16th century etchings of whatever it is nobles look at."

"The only etchings I've seen are ones I wouldn't feel comfortable discussing with a man as refined as Vladimir the Impaler."

"I'm sure you could bond over your shared interest in terrorizing children."

"I've heard those rumors about my walking companion were highly exaggerated."

"As you have a close personal friendship with him, I'll take your word for it. Now, about this dress..."

"It's nice."

"Just nice?"

"Very nice."

"But does it truly bring out my most fabulous self? Would you profess your undying devotion to me and ravish me were I wearing this dress? If only because I need to be ravished because I can't manage the zipper myself."

"Bellatrix, are you trying to seduce me?"

"No."

"You can't have anyone in mind..."

Bellatrix sighed. She wasn't up for this kind of banter, and her long standing intrigue with El Elegance Elegante – the intrigue which never quite came to fruition in the form of an affair - was beginning to frustrate her. If only he weren't so perversely moral! She had decided that some action needed to be taken, either in the form of one exceedingly beautiful dress or a love philter. The time and money invested would be about equal, but she did want to feel that she had managed the seduction without overt manipulation. Especially when she was trying to seduce a man who routinely slaughtered people who tried to manipulate him.

Severus looked almost mollified as he replied, "I think the green is good. Very Slytherin."

"Well that's just it, I know it's good, but I wear it so often. It won't surprise him. I was thinking of red, that way we can match! We'll look like such a couple."

"Is he wearing red robes?"

"No. Why would he be? I thought he was going to wear black, just like always."

"But you said you wanted to match."

"Oh, not his robes. Have you ever noticed how his eyes have little flecks of red in them? I find it really attractive. It's kind of cute, like he's always just coming down with the Ebola virus and is in need of nursing."

"He's sick with love for you?"

"Something like that. What was so pressing that you needed to see me now? If you're aspiring to be a fashion consultant, I think you'd best stick with your day job."

"It's a little problem with Miss Granger."

"She's not turning us into the Ministry or anything, is she?" Bellatrix's wand was at the ready once again.

"Oh, no, nothing like that. I suppose, more properly put, it's a little problem with Miss Bones."

"Ah, well, we have their correspondence. No worries there."

"Actually, there are some worries."

"You didn't lose the letters? I know they're fine reading material, but you have been careful with them? You haven't misplaced them in a taxicab somewhere, have you?"

"No."

"Severus, I'm really not in the mood to play guessing games. Why don't you just tell me what's wrong, and we'll go from there?"

"IkissedMissGranger."

"You what?"

"She was wearing these absurdly tall shoes and..."

"No, really, I have no idea what you said. You were mumbling."

"I..." Severus made a dismissive gesture with his hand, "you know."

"No."

"Think hard."

"You slept with Hermione?"

"No. My lips just fell onto hers accidentally."

"Oh, you kissed her. Well, that's not terribly scandalous in itself. Though congratulations! You're both so intelligent, I'm sure you'll raise erudite daschunds together."

"Daschunds?"

"Far be it from me to mention those snot nosed monsters people so commonly call children."

"I kissed the girl once by accident. We're not raising anything together."

"That's what they all say."

"Oh, God."

"I'm only teasing."

"Oh, God, what if she wants daschunds? What if she goes and gets herself pregnant and swears the baby's mine so that she drops out of school and I have to marry her? And then I'll never have a moment to myself ever again. We'll have toddlers with cereal stuck in their hair and the whole house will smell of apple juice and we'll lose our wide array of interests and become household drones. I think it's best that I never see her again."

"Don't you think you're being a bit extreme? I mean, did she at any point say, 'Severus, I want to settle down and raise twenty children?' She doesn't strike me as that kind of girl. She's sensible. Motivated. And you're attracted to her, so why not have a bit of a fling? It would be good for you."

"You really think she's only interested in a fling?"

"She's seventeen! What else could someone that age be interested in?" Bellatrix bit her tongue when she thought of mentioning her own marriage at the age of eighteen. "Trust me, it's not as though she's secretly wildly in love with you and has been fantasizing about you for ages."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Well, I suppose everything is all right then."

"So tell me about this passionate, sheerly physical liaison with Miss Granger. I so wanted to sleep with my potion's professor when I was a schoolgirl..."

"I really did only kiss her. Once."

"Come now, you can tell me..."

"No. Really. That's all."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"That's the worst liaison ever. I mean, that's not terribly naughty schoolgirl is it?"

"No, and it's not going to be."

"That's so sad."

"If it's any consolation, she was wearing fishnets, and high heels, and something that made feathers shoot from her behind."

"Nothing says love like horrid, horrid clothing."

"That's not the problem though. The problem is that Miss Bones came in right as I was kissing her. Awkward timing."

"So you obliviated her."

"Believe me, I tried to."

"You didn't obliviate her? Good God, what were you thinking? Were you thinking?"

"It was impossible, she grabbed my wand. I wasn't sure I could trust Miss Granger to be completely devoted to us were I to obliviate one of her peers."

"Personally, I would have chanced it after sticking my tongue down Hermione's throat, but I suppose that could be a personal thing. Anyway, it's not the end of the world. She hasn't got any proof."

"Actually..."

"Actually, what? There is no actually."

"She had this muggle device. I believe it's called a tape recorder."

"Was she trying to hang up pictures?"

"No, no, it copies people's voices down. Like a Quick Quotes Quill. Only with voices."

"How ingenious."

"Except when it's used on you."

"Uh hum."

"As you confess – all but brag, really – about kissing schoolgirls."

"Mmm hmm."

"So you see, it's a quite different situation than it used to be. We can't go right to the media – we'll have to make sure Rita delays the story, but I've already talked to Hermione about contacting her – without Miss Bones turning around and saying that she knows that I'm a pedophile."

"You're not a pedophile. I mean, the kissing schoolgirls thing does have a certain pedophiliac bent to it, but Dante loved Beatrice when she was only 14."

"Regardless, it's a messy situation."

Bellatrix paused, and ran her fingers up and down her wand. Suddenly, her eyes sparkled, "Well," she said, "it's not all that messy. This tape recorder is just one object, isn't it? And I don't see Miss Bones as having been clever to lock it up in Gringotts. So we'll just have someone go into the room and steal it."

"But who? I don't think it's wise for me to do it. While I'd be happy to normally, my position is already precarious enough. We don't want it to look as though I'm breaking into young girls rooms with heaven knows what depraved designs."

"We'll get someone. We'll need someone really ferret-y. It's times like these I rather wish Pettigrew were still working closely with us. This is the sort of thing he'd be so good at."

"Ferret-y, you say?"

"Yes. Oh. Oh. That's right. Didn't Lucius' boy once..."

"Get turned into a ferret. Yes. And he is indeed ferret-y."

"And he'd be so perfect! I mean, he'd do anything for house points wouldn't he? And he really, really wants to be in the club. I can't blame him – what child wouldn't want a tattoo that their parents would have to approve of? Just tell him it's the standard proving-yourself-to-be-a-follower-of-the-Dark-Lord procedure. Say that at some point, we all have to steal muggle artifacts to demonstrate our commitment to ridding the world of mudblood scum."

"I think he'd be more than willing."

"Good. That's cleared up then. So, were we going with red or green on the dress? I must say I do think there's something about a red dress..."

"How interesting, Miss Granger was saying the same thing. About it having a certain romantic element. A kind of power towards metamorphosis – changing from a bookish girl into a refined, intelligent woman."

"She actually said all of that to you?"

"Something along those lines."

"Well, I can see where she's coming from. A red dress does have a certain allure – it crops up enough in art, and literature. Especially romance novels. It's the kind of gift heroes are always giving to heroines."

"She mentioned that."

"You're sending one to her? Oh, Severus, that's so romantic of you!"

"I didn't say anything vaguely resembling that."

"But you were thinking about it!"

"I suppose it might be a nice gesture. But I don't want her getting any ideas about daschunds."

"It's a perfectly brilliant gesture. If a man sent me a gorgeous dress to wear to a ball, I'd not only fulfill his naughty schoolgirl fantasies, I'd enjoy doing it."

"Why didn't you ever tell me you were such an easily bought strumpet back in our student days?"

"It took me years to get to become an easily bought strumpet."

"You really think I should send a dress?"

"I think we've seen that the choosing of clothing isn't something Miss Granger has inordinate interest in. You won't be depriving her of the pleasure of picking out her own attire for the party. And she's already more or less told you she'd like to receive a red dress as a present. It'll be fun; I'll help you pick it out. I have a fairly good idea of her size. And the only requirement is that it be red."

"You really think that this is a good idea?"

"Severus, in this whole mixed up muddled mess, I think somebody deserves to get exactly what they want."