Chapter Seven - Shall we Dance?
A/N - Bit of a cheesy chapter. But it had to be in this fanfic somewhere...
It was nine thirty pm when the train stopped at the Edinburgh Waverley Train Station. Snape hopped off the train and, taking hold of Bellatrix's gloved hand, helped her off too.
'You don't have to be a gentleman.' She muttered as she stepped onto the pavement. But an amused smile had spread across her lips. Snape thought that perhaps she had never been treated like a lady before, certainly not under the care of Rudolphis.
'How are we expected to get there?' Bellatrix muttered under her breath. 'We don't have broomsticks, and we can't apparate amongst all these muggles.'
Snape pulled a cellphone out of his pocket and punched a number. At Bellatrix's enquiring look, he explained, 'Calling a taxi.'
Bellatrix laughed at the sight of Snape using muggle technology, but nevertheless they let the taxi drive them to thier destination. They hopped out and paid the driver in muggle cash, then entered the castle.
When asked at the door for thier invitation, Bellatrix quickly pulled the wand out of her cloak pocket and silently obliviated the guard. Then they passed over the threshold and into the ballroom without any further interuptions.
Bellatrix, ignoring the hungry looks that many of the muggle men threw her,gripped tightly to Snape's arm and pulled him forcefully to the corner of the ballroom. Near by, a grand piano launched into a mozart piece, as many of the couples in the room bagan to dance in a flurry of sweeping skirts and tailcoats.
'The sooner we can leave this place the better!' Bellatrix hissed. She was gripping Snape's arm so hard, that Snape was sure the circulation in his arm was going to be cut off.
Bellatrix was looking for any forms of exit that they might take to the dungeons below. But all the doors were firmly shut; they were closed in the ballroom.
'Looks like you're going to have to endure this, Bellatrix.' Snape said quietly. 'When its over, which should be in an hour or two,' Snape looked at the giant clock on the far wall, 'I'll patrol the halls, and you can look for any entrance into the dungeons. Meanwhile, shall we-'
'Excuse me...?' They were interrupted by an elderly man and his young wife.
'Good evening. I am Sir Thomas Rutherford of Kent and this is my mistress, Amalia.'
Bellatrix glared at the woman, barely out of childhood, who giggled nervously and waved a cream-coloured fan over her face. The man took off his top hat with a sweepng bow.
'My wife here, along with many others in this room (Bellatrix suddenly noticed several heads turned towards her and Snape), are wondering who such a fine couple could be.'
'Oh!' said Bellatrix suddenly, trying to sound enthusiastic. 'I am Bellatrix Snape, and this is my husband, Severus.' She gave Snape an endearing look, masking her own confusuion. The words seemed so odd coming out of her... and yet, they seemed so... -was it- ...right? She wondered what Rudolphis would do if he was still alive, if he heard her say this. Probably beat her senseless. She put it out of her mind quickly. Rudolphis wasn't here, nor would he ever be. Guilt was not an option, and her feelings weren't acceptable in the present situation; they had a job to do.
The girl called Amalia giggled, smoothing the ruffles on her frilly magenta dress. 'Oh yes...' She said airily, a slight french tone in her accent. 'You two do look so much in love.'
Bellatrix did not know whether to take it as a compliment or an insult. She registered Snape moving uncomfortably next to her, an cunning, impromptu thought came to her head. She would tease him, draw from him his true feelings for her; whether it was distaste, or... something else.
'Oh yes,' she breathed, clutching Snape's arm all the harder, 'Oh yes we are, aren't we Sevvy?'
Snape's face tuned a shade paler, his mouth in a stern line as all faces turned to him, some laughing at the useage of the name Sevvy.
'Quite.' He answered stiffly, a slight twinge of pink in his face.
The Grand piano started up another lively tune, and the girl in the magenta dress clapped her hands together like a happy pre-school child.
'Oh, I do love this one!' she squealed. She grabbed Sir Rutherford's arm, 'Oh please do dance with me to this one!'
Sir Rutherford smiled and bowed. 'Anything to please my lady.' He turned to Bellatrix and Snape, beaming. 'You do know this one, I pressume? please do accompany the dance.'
Snape was about to politley decline but Bellatrix squealed with delight in jest of the girl, almost inducing her gag reflex.
'Oh we would love to, wouldn't we Sev!' A twinge of grey flushed in Snape's sallow face as he gave a slight nod of consent.
The music fired up as Bellatrix dragged Snape into the middle of the dance floor and they twirled, her skirts rustling on the floor. Snape felt as if an electric shock pulsed through him wherever thier bodies met; Bella's gloved hands around his neck and his about her waist, they were locked at the hips.
'What are you trying to do?' he hissed angrilly as they danced. 'Sevvy? where the hell did that come from? I am sick of being mocked and teased, Bellatrix! Do not say that you love me and not mean it!'
He sounded genuinly hurt, Bellatrix thought.
She pressed her head onto his shoulder, he flinched. 'I am just following your advice, Severus.'
'And that is what imprompted you act like a besotted twelve year old girl?'
'That and much else.' A smile passed her lips. She was thankful of her highly accomplished Occlumency that Snape could not see the other reasons; that she wanted to know his feelings for her, that her own of him she kept locked tightly in her heart, blanketed beneath a facade of hatred and contempt; and that she would rather act his beloved wife than have any of the muggle men here looking at her hungrily and daring to approach her. At least the tall, dark, serious image of Snape at her arm would be enough to frighten them off.
Snape did not answer, but she felt his breathing ease, and his heart quieten.
'Bellatrix, I-'
She shushed him and looked up into his deep black eyes, felt his breath on her face, barely registering that thier lips were milimetres apart. 'You know Severus, tonight you will have to call me Bella.'
PR&R/rigamortis.