(author's notes. Yes, I know this particular scene is uncanon, but I began writing this before HBP came out, and changed the timeline to match and be canonical. However, I loved this scene and could not take it out. Forgive me.)
Isn't there a lovely Muggle quote about children being seen and not heard?
Selene's head pounded as another screech of laughter reached her ears, her body automatically turning to tap some errant student on the shoulder, her dark eyes cold and glaring, the silent reprimand enough. For the moment, at least.
Bloody ball. Bloody holiday. Bloody headmaster with his bloody brilliant ideas on how to distract their attentions from the bloody tyrant roaming the castle grounds and the bloody rumors of war brewing right outside the bloody castle gates.
It had only been an hour since the Halloween Ball had begun, and while only NEWT level students were allowed to attend, she was convinced that some of the younger students had found ways to slip inside the Great Hall. Probably taking advantage of the sixth and seventh students foolish enough to attempt to slip out, all in bad attempts at subtlety.
Three such pairs were already in Filch's custody.
Her hand went to her temples, the pain starting to slip behind her eye. The last thing she needed at that moment was a migraine. The so-called music was bad enough without her becoming hypersensitive to its pulsing beats. With a wince, she rubbed the spot, hoping to magically soothe it away.
A hand tapped her shoulder and she looked up, seeing a small vial held in front of her.
Her eyes followed the hand to the arm, the arm to the owner, and found herself staring into familiar black eyes. "And what, pray tell, is this? Some magic antidote to the frustration of teenage hormonal angst?"
Severus smirked at her flippant sarcasm. "Good evening to you too. And in a way, it is." His head bent to whisper in her ear, necessary after the start of the newest song, which drowned out coherent conversation. "For your obvious headache, Professor. Can't have you sneaking away pleading illness and leaving me the only rational adult in charge, after all."
She pulled away, snatching the vial, staring at him in obvious confusion. "Do you always carry some random potion in your pockets, or am I just really fortunate this evening?"
He actually shrugged, taking an overly-casual stance next to her, his eyes watching a particular grouping of Gryffindor students with rapt attention. "Given the band Dumbledore hired for the evening, I thought it was prudent to come prepared."
She followed his gaze as she quickly downed the potion, feeling the headache melt away immediately, finding it easier to actually stand the ball again. "Thank you." A slight smile graced her lips as she replaced the stopper and handed the thin vial back over to him, watching him pocket it deftly. "So, has your evening been as completely and utterly wasted as mine, or have you managed to find a modicum of entertainment in the shrill music and inane chatter of the children?"
His eyes immediately rolled.
Somehow, it made him seem more human.
"I'll take that as a 'yes, Selene, my evening is a mutual disaster, thanks for asking', then."
He took two steps to his left, tapped a student on the shoulder and gave him a stern look, then returned to her side. "I cannot imagine a greater waste of time. Except for that Valentine's Ball that Sprout is concocting."
She lost her composure, staring up at him in disgust and shock. "Oh, please tell me you're telling tales now. Please."
"Trust me, I wish I could. You should have been in the last senior staff meeting. She and Flitwick were already working out coordinated enchantments, and Dumbledore gave it his support without hesitation." Severus sighed deeply, an exhausted sort of exasperation in his eyes. "And while it was probably the only thing McGonagall and I have agreed upon in a year, it wasn't enough to dissuade the others."
Selene groaned, her eyes immediately making contact with another pair of students attempting to slip from the room, her quick jerk of her head towards the middle of the room being rewarded by slumped shoulders and a pair of subdued figures returning to the dance floor. "I refuse to be present at anything involving pink hearts and copious amounts of lace."
"Would you believe Flitwick suggested pixies?"
Her look of repulsion amused him.
"I wonder whatever happened to Karkaroff, and if he's returned to his school and is still looking for an Astronomer," she mused aloud. "At least such foolishness doesn't take place at Durmstrang."
His body stiffened noticeably, and his attention grew honed. "I wasn't aware that you and Karkaroff were acquainted."
Selene turned her head at the perceptible cool edge to his voice. Well, well. A sore spot at last? Wonder where that comes from? Aloud, she waved her hand in a slight dismissal of the comment. "I attended school there, and unfortunately, he did as well."
What in Hades is an Italian doing attending a Slavic Wizarding school? Why didn't she simply attend La Stregoneria? Why go somewhere that far away? Then again, why would an Italian be teaching at a British school, Severus you fool? She likely has her reasons. Why are you interested searching for answers to questions such as these anyway?
He couldn't answer himself.
Selene couldn't help but notice the change in the air between them. Tension from the innocent comment seemed to entwine around them both, making her feel irritatingly awkward. "I think I'm going to take a walk around. Trelawney's heading this way, and I really don't want to have to remind her my first name has three syllables. Besides, three professors in one spot is one too many. Lets the hellions act out more easily."
Before he could protest, she slipped away, immediately insinuating herself in a small cluster of students, disentangling them from their mischief and sending them on their ways with a brisk efficiency he both respected and envied.
And then the hairs on the back of his neck bristled up as the overwhelming scent of incense drifted toward him.
Taking a few quick steps away from the spot, his black robes swirling behind him, Severus stalked to a corner, trying to decide how best to avoid the torture that could only come from forced small talk with Sybill Trelawney.
The sudden slower tempo of the music and the rush of partnered pairs to the floor left him with no viable means of escape.
"Severus!" The misty voice stopped him in his tracks, causing the slight groan to slip his lips, his back muscles tightening as his body tensed, slowly turning on heel to face her, no other alternative making itself known to him. "It has been far too long since we've had a conversation."
He didn't bother politely nodding. "That would be because there's not much to converse about, Trelawney." Severus deliberately lowered his voice, chilling it in a schooled effect that had swiftly gained him control over classes, situations, and people that he otherwise would not have been able to manipulate.
She didn't take hints so easily.
"That is how little you know, Severus. I have been meaning to come find you for days now. To tell you…"
Her words were quickly interrupted by a cough.
Selene hid her smirk at the look of annoyance on Trelawney's part, as well as the gratitude and confusion etched in Severus' eyes. Instead, she smoothly let the bold-faced lie slip from her lips. "So sorry to interrupt your chat, Sybill. However, Severus here did promise me a dance earlier, and given the change in music, I've come to collect." She bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing at his shocked stare. "Oh, don't tell me you've changed your mind? I've been looking forward to this for an hour now!"
Severus quickly weighed the two choices in his head: stay and have his ear talked off by Trelawney, or share a quick public moment with a teacher whom, until a few weeks ago, he'd barely spoken to in thirteen years of teaching under the same roof.
The choice was simple.
"Of course not. I had merely forgotten." Turning to Trelawney, he nodded. "Terribly sorry, Trelawney. Perhaps another time." He offered his hand to Selene. "Shall we?"
She smiled coquettishly as she took the proffered hand. "Don't mind if I do."
As they walked away, Sybill Trelawney tried to salvage some face from the defection. "Of course, I understand. Prior agreements and such. In fact, I knew I wouldn't be able to speak long with you, Severus. Enjoy your dance, Selene."
Her teeth instantly began to grind. Under her breath, she muttered, her temper taking over for one moment. "Not. Sell. Een. Sell. Eh. Nay. How bloody hard is it? It's Greek, not French, you insipid woman."
Severus hid a small smile as he pulled her seamlessly into the dance, leaving a proprietary amount of room between them, feeling Trelawney's eyes watching them. Among others. "Don't be overly hard on her. After all, the Inner Eye takes up so much of her mind that she cannot be bothered with rather pedestrian issues like pronunciation."
She couldn't help it. She laughed. Immediately her tense muscles began to relax themselves, and she found herself slipping into the dance with minimal effort. He felt the difference in her posture, his hand resting on her hip lightly, guiding her instinctively, hard-pressed to remember the last time he'd actually danced. "By the way, to what did I owe the complete lie you told simply to rescue me from that moment?"
"Well, you did share that little remedy earlier, saving me from hours of pain. I figured if you'd been selfless enough to cure my headache, the least I could do was keep you from gaining one of your own." Selene gave him a hint of a smirk. "And besides, it's been far too long since I took a turn around a dance floor. Thought I could arrange solutions to both problems quite admirably."
Severus raised an eyebrow. "And what if I had proven to be a terrible dancer?"
Selene shrugged. "Hadn't thought of that possibility."
"Well, thank you for saving me. Regardless of how unorthodox the means."
Her cheeks tinged with an almost-unnoticeable red. "I couldn't think of anything else on that short of notice. And after I realized it was fairly rude of me to save myself by sacrificing you, my conscience wouldn't let me rest." As her words hung between them, the song ended, another slow one immediately following, prompting her to begin to pull away.
He surprised even himself. Instead of letting go, Severus stepped slightly closer, pulling her into another dance. "You're not leaving so soon, are you?"
Her steps faltered slightly before falling into the movements again, flawless in her motions. "I would have assumed you'd be grateful that the 'unorthodox' moment was over."
"And end your time on the dance floor? After you put me in your debt for rescuing me from a moment of annoyance and irritation?" His eyebrows crooked upward. "Do you have any idea the lengths I will go to just to stay away from her?"
Selene shot him a look of mock-distress. "So, I'm just a means to an end, am I?"
Severus' reply was immediate and bordering on defensive. "I didn't say that. If I didn't want to spend the time with you, I would have found another way to escape her."
It was her turn for the raised eyebrows. "Be careful, Professor Snape. That almost sounded like a compliment. A few more of those and your reputation for isolation and self-restraint may be in jeopardy."
"May I say you have an amazing gift for sarcasm?"
"I try."
"If that's your definition of 'trying', I'd hate to see you actually accomplish."
"Well, keep providing me with practice, and one day it may just happen."
Their repartee continued along with their dance until the end of the song, when the band deemed themselves sufficiently rested for their previous cacophony of noise and loud-pitched screeching. Immediately, some students rushed to the floor, and others saw their opportunities to try and slip away, yet again, from the professors' gazes. Swapping identical looks of annoyance, they each stepped in opposite directions, both handling the students with an eerie duality of purpose and poise.
It wasn't until two hours later, when the Ball was officially over, students returning to four houses scattered across the castle, that Severus realized Selene was nowhere in sight. Part of him felt relieved, knowing he wouldn't have to find some awkward way to close their evening, while a part of him felt disappointed that the conversation wouldn't continue. Despite her sardonic wit, Selene Sinistra was proving to be an interesting conversationalist.
As he approached the door to his apartments, he noticed something glinting in the torchlight beside it. Swooping down, he found himself lifting a glass bottle, corked, the dark glass concealing the color of the liquid inside. Confused, he quickly looked the bottle over, until noting a small insignia stamped onto the cork.
A bunch of grapes under a half moon.
Somehow, drinking the wine alone wasn't as appealing as it normally would have been.