Hermione had left Madam Malkins in a rare state of joy the day before. The gown she had chosen was, by all accounts, perfection. Charcoal-like silk fabric covered in a delicately embroidered celestial pattern hung from thin white straps over her shoulders. It gathered in an empire waist, which bound her chest in a most flattering fashion. Gracefully, the gown continued to flow outward towards black stiletto heels. In her hand, she would carry a scepter mask that matched the gown's detail. When she fixed this small piece of art against her eyes, the ambience of her figure was irresistible. It had taken a considerable amount of time, but she had charmed her hair straight so that it fell to mid-back. The tri-tonal beauty of her predominantly caramel locks was even more apparent now that she stood so sleek and polished. As for makeup, she gave her eyes a smoky appearance with charcoal liner, and glossed her lips, which made her already stunning features exponentially intensify.

"Must you torment me with such beauty?" Remus whispered in question.

Hermione snorted, acting out of character for the moment.

"It's just a little something I picked up in Hogsmeade, Remus. It's not like I'm modeling for Miss Enchanted England or anything…" She smiled again. "You look quite stunning yourself."

Lupin studied himself carefully in the reflection of the near window. His tattered black cape, the black leather pants, worn boots, and loose gray pirate shirt gave him a stealthy appeal, and he had already caused much swooning upon his entrance to the hall.

"What, this bit of thrown together rubbish?" he questioned playfully, lifting his black eye patch to fix Hermione with a goofy look.

"Please, you're a sexy rogue and you know it," she replied with a wicked laugh.

I'm standing here expecting absolutely anything… in complete, dark, nothingness.

"He's outdone himself this time," Remus whispered. "The suspense is killing me."

Hermione felt her hand involuntarily slip into Professor Lupin's.

Dumbledore's crazy. He's just crazy making us stand here in the dark like this, not knowing where we are or who's around.

"I was always a little afraid of the dark," Hermione said as she squeezed Remus' hand tighter.

"I can see that." He chuckled. "Happy Halloween."

The lights rose unexpectedly, drenching the remodeled Great Hall in an eerie half-light.

The students gasped as they tried to take in the enormous sights surrounding them. And it wasn't long at all before they realized how much work Dumbledore had actually done to the place.

It was astonishing.

The ceiling expanded and magnified to a glorious thirty feet above their heads, swirling with silver and gold, furbished with the twisting leaves of mysterious green trees rising from the marble floor. The shape of the room was no longer angular, but round and twice as wide. Tables and chairs lined half of the wall, while buffet tables covered in sweets stood at the opposite side.

An enormous chandelier cast a delicate metallic glow on the crowd, causing brighter areas of the space to shimmer in its light, and the panels of the domed ceiling were replaced with swirling orange clouds. Hundreds of tiny jack-o-lanterns floated in the air above.

Possibly the most striking adornments were the four twenty-foot paintings that stood at the quarters of the circle. The marble floor of the hall was branded with a giant shimmering compass, each golden needle pointing and stretching its way towards one of the paintings.

At first glance, Hermione did not notice the chilling figures within the frames, but it was not long before she was mesmerized by their gruesome details.

The first, to the north, was what appeared to be a creamy canvas awash with blood. A forest canopy of leaves composed of human flesh dripped maroon and brown into a tangle of twigs. The deadly trees dipped and twisted towards a clearing of cracked dry earth. Ravines in the rigid soil oozed more of the blood that rained from the cranberry sky above. A lion-man sat huddled to the ground, arms folded to cover his naked form. His body appeared completely normal, save for the paws and distorted face. His hair was wild and rumpled about his head in a mane. His mouth hung slack-jawed, revealing teeth discolored from the drooling bloody saliva running between them. His nose was triangular, feline-like and flat, and his eyes, still gleaming humanly azure, conveyed a sadness that was otherworldly… as though he had seen the greatest pain of all. Hermione had to pull her gaze from his image, fearing that she might somehow be possessed to feel the same. She shivered.

To the south, however, a woman stood in a normal forest glade. She was nude, but covered by a giant serpent that twined itself around her shoulders hips and chest. Her face was beautiful, except for her eyes. The eyes that should have been were erased completely and replacing them were dark holes… voids of nothingness. The vacancy of the image was the most disturbing thing Hermione had laid eyes on yet. It was strange how unsettling a person without eyes could actually be. It had always been said they are the windows to the soul, but when realizing just how much…

"I wonder where Albus came up with these horrid excuses for art," Remus quipped, squinting and dramatically averting his eyes. "Oh, they're all over the place!"

Sure enough he had turned directly east, to face head-on another piece - this time even more disturbing and unusual.

"Definitely surrealism," Hermione mused aloud to herself.

To the west, a large raven sat on the mast of a ship surrounded by violent sea. Black tar appeared to drip from its feathers and beak. Its eyes were a bright sapphire and it steamed from the tar as though it was melting.

To the east, a yellow sea of constellations floated on a gloomy, sulfur horizon. A beastly clown stood at the center of the supernal mass. He wrenched his hands around the throat of a baby badger, as though proud of choking the life from it. His eyes slanted maliciously and his teeth extended like razors towards the chest of his gold and onyx harlequin patterned unitard. His knees bent inwards like some sort of creature and from each of his twenty jagged toes sprouted a mushroom. And, Hermione noted astutely, a message was barely visible within the shadow of his painted form.

"Look at this, Remus," Hermione said as she guided him to the small inscription near the base of the frame. "Let's have a closer look!"

"Well that doesn't make any sense," Remus said as he moved for a closer inspection.
"Htaed Litnu Layol… that's not any language I'm aware of."

"Loyal Until Death," Hermione said as if she'd figured it out ages ago. "Quite clever really."

"Of course!… backwards. Everything's backwards these days. Our founders must have been ridiculously intrigued by the concept. I see these inverted messages everywhere."

"Ah yes, Remus. Underestimating the secrets of Hogwarts again, I presume?" Dumbledore had moved his way through the costumed crowd to greet them. "Certainly, there would be no forwards without a backwards? As there is no darkness without light, no loss without love… and so on."

"Well put," Remus replied.

Dumbledore had taken some time with his outfit as well.

Long mulberry fabric rippled and flowed like a river down his back. His long hair and beard were littered with tiny braids and autumn leaves twined in a wreath around his head. The blue of his eyes was quite dazzling within the wreath of fall branches. Hermione could not believe how magical he looked. Dumbledore always looked innately powerful, but now he was at the far end of the spectrum… what Muggles always imagined wizards to be.

"You look lovely, my dear," he told Hermione sweetly. "That dress is exquisite, I must say."

"Why thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. Your choice of attire is nothing short of sensational," she said happily as she gestured towards his costume.

Dumbledore smiled a beaming broad smile. His eyes glittering like lights under the enchanted chandelier.

Remus moved to stand between them.

"I don't see Severus anywhere, Albus," he said with mock disappointment. "I didn't come here dressed as a pirate so he could remain in his room all night." He laughed.

Hermione's insides twisted deliciously with the mention of her Potions Professor. It was something so uncontrollable for her that it was necessary to shield her face behind her mask in order for her burning cheeks to remain unnoticed.

"No, Remus, he'll be here."

Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. She could not conceal a noisy intake of air.

He's coming?

"I can't imagine what you had to do to convince him," Remus said through another hearty laugh. "I don't need the details."

"I can promise his attendance, Remus," Dumbledore said with a wink.

Startlingly, music poured forth from thin air. The hall was filled with a pulsing beat that Hermione recognized immediately. "I can't believe they're playing this song!" she exclaimed as she tugged Lupin onto the dance floor.

From the side of his mouth, Ron mumbled, "I can't believe she can even show her face here after last week," quietly to Harry, Ginny, Neville, and Seamus who stood near him in the corner. "Let alone make such a spectacle of herself."

On candystripe legs spiderman comes

Softly through the shadow of the evening sun

Stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead

Looking for the victim shivering in bed

Searching out fear in the gathering gloom

And suddenly! A movement in the corner of the room!

And there is nothing I can do when I realize with fright

The spiderman is having me for dinner tonight…

Lavender and Parvati arrived at the boys' sides shortly. Parvati's crimson feather dress tickled Neville's nose enough for him to sneeze audibly. The scarlet glitter around her eyes was nearly blinding in the chandelier's light.

Lavender had opted instead for a white ensemble, her hair twined into hundreds of tiny braids that curled around a tuft of ostrich feathers at the top of her head. Her eyes were covered in iridescent snowy glitter, almost as gaudy as Parvati's.

"Well her choice of gown is rather drab if you ask me," Parvati added to her date's rude remark. "Ron, it's not like you'll have to go anywhere near her in a ballroom this big anyway."

Lavender latched herself quickly to Harry's suited arm, pulling him towards the dance floor.

Quietly he laughs and shaking his head

Creeps closer now, closer to the foot of the bed

And softer than shadow and quicker than flies

His arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes

"Be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy

Don't struggle like that or I will only love you more

For it's much too late to get away or turn on the light

The spider man is having you for dinner tonight"

"I like this song," Neville found himself saying out loud.

Seamus and Ginny, with a sidelong glance, decided to dance as well, leaving him alone with his crutches.

"Do you really?" a low voice asked from behind him.

Neville whirled around so quickly that his crutches fell with a clatter to the marble floor. The shade of the surroundings caused him to search the shadows for a minute before finding the source of the words.

"Oh... it's you," he said in a murmur.

"Yes, me," the voice added. "Longbottom listens to th-"

"Well I don't … really listen to them. I just like this song."

"I see."

"Yes."

"I don't believe we've met... I'm Yeva."

"Oh, I'm Neville." He took a deep breath. "Please... don't call me Longbottom. It... it reminds me too much of Snape."

Yeva threw her head back and laughed theatrically at the tired comparison.

"What? ... I mean, why so funny?"

Carefully tapping the corners of her eyes with her pinkie finger so as not to smear her makeup, Yeva composed herself. "Nothing, really," she said unconvincingly.

Neville puckered his brow and frowned in confusion.

"Professor Snape... he is not you favorite teacher then?"

It was Neville's turn to laugh. And then he nearly turned green.

"Snape is... bad... just bad news." He was desperate to change the subject. "You've got a good costume going, though."

Yeva had worn a short forest green dress that hung in choppy layers to her mid-thighs. Matching shiny fairy wings adorned her shoulders and her legs were clad in black fishnet tights. Though her feet were in a strappy pair of emerald pumps, the added five inches only brought her to just above Neville's head when he was sitting.

"Thanks," she said. "How did you hurt yourself?"

"I fell down the stairs."

"Why on earth would you heal the horrid Muggle way?" She motioned towards the crutches with a wave of her arms.

"Because, I'm allergic to Skele-Gro," he replied with a defeated sigh.

"Oh."

A little further down the hall, a trio of dark figures approached unnoticed.

"I'm awfully sorry to hear that," she said.

"Oh believe me, it's alright. I can't dance worth a spinach flavored Bertie Bott's anyway... and I probably wouldn't have had a date to go with in the first place. This is just an easy excuse." He laughed half-heartedly. "I mean if it wasn't for the pain, I would have considered falling down the stairs on purpose."

Yeva looked livid.

"What!" she nearly shrieked. "Why would you say something awful like that?"

"Because it's true..." He looked up from the floor and for the first time, actually meeting her eyes, changed his self-pity quickly into suspicion. "I don't understand. Why are you being so nice to me? If this is some sort of Slytherin prank, believe me, I do know how to use my wand."

"No!" Yeva said suddenly. "No, I promise. I'm not so much like the rest of the lot over there. I don't like to watch people suffer. You shouldn't get so down on yourself. I don't have a date either."

Neville's jaw dropped.

"That's ridiculous. Why would someone like you have come here alone?" he asked in surprise. "I mean... there's Nott, and Blaise... and Malfoy-"

"Draco did ask me and I turned him down," she said.

"You what?" He was in shock. Slowly, carefully, he uttered, "And you lived to tell?"

"He was upset, but as much as he wants to believe it, he doesn't own this school... or anyone inside it." She looked very angry then, involuntarily running her finger along the wire latching her wings to her gown.

Neville nodded and looked at the floor. The wooden monster mask he had painted was lying on the far corner of the table. It was kind of cute, the way he'd made it himself.

He had allowed his curly brown hair to grow a little over the past year and it made his eyes stand out strangely. It was handsome and soft; in a way that only Neville could be - kind of awkward, but definitely charming.

Yeva pulled out the chair nearest to him and sat.

"You know, Neville."

He raised his eyes in a silent question; stunned she had even stayed to talk.

"If your leg wasn't broken, I would dance with you."

Neville's mouth opened again in surprise and color came into his cheeks. "I... I'm not really... I mean... I can't dance," he said.

Yeva put her hand on his arm.

"No need to be shy, love. I can't dance either."

Without warning, a firecracker exploded on their tabletop, causing Neville to jump to his feet without thinking and shriek, then crumple into a sitting position clutching his leg in pain.

Deep droning laughter filled the space and Neville's pain was replaced with a chill.

"Well, well, well... if Parajanov isn't getting cozy with Longbottom..."

Draco Malfoy's face was half covered with a sunken white mask, deadly in quality and resembling very closely that of the Death Eaters. His robes looked like they had cost a family fortune, which they probably had. And he carried his father's walking stick in his left hand. Its serpent head glittered a little in the dimmer light. Yeva understood that Neville did not see the irony in Draco using the viciously gaudy cane as a costume when his father used it every day, but at the sight he presented, she dare not laugh.

Crabbe and Goyle, both wearing heavy black hooded robes, stood at either side of him. Their faces were not visible, but dumb laughter did not allow Yeva and Neville to forget their presence.

"Yeva darling, you do realize you're socializing with the biggest idiot in all of Hogwarts? What's next? Chatting up Hagrid?"

"It's so amusing that you are the one attempting to label the idiots in this situation, Draco. Leave us alone." Yeva's dark eyes were again alight with an angry Potions Master gleam. "Leave, I'm warning you."

"Ooo, Yeva," he cooed. "I love how sassy you get when you're angry."

"Leave!"

She rose from her chair, fists clenched, teeth bared.

"No," he said roughly, before grabbing and forcing her into a crushing kiss.

Snape leaned against the doorframe rigidly, his arms crossed against his chest. The lights had dimmed considerably and the swirling ceiling clouds had a rippling effect on the light of the room. As if someone had lifted a prism to a laser, colors moved in waves around the French doors he stood by.

Possibly the most surprising feature of his clothing was that he did not wear black, but a deep midnight blue. Silver detailed serpents snaked their way down the trail of buttons on his chest and his cape billowed enough to expose a silver satin lining. Half his face was concealed with leather, form fitting the angles of his cheeks and nose and also a deep indigo. He might have even been mistaken for a darker version of the Phantom of the Opera... yet the wing of raven hair that always framed his face gave his presence a wilder even more dangerous appeal than the Phantom - who's character was becoming quite cliché in the surroundings. Most of the seventh-year boys had opted for the white half-mask as well.

Hermione was getting sick of looking at all the phantoms in the room. She was relieved to see that the object of her passion had been more original. She could hardly control herself, really. The fact that he had shown up had been a shock in itself. She wanted more than anything to approach him, somehow apologize, but she knew that after the horrible scene in The Three Broomsticks, it was probably a fatal choice.

"I see that Minerva has finally arrived," Remus said to a distracted Hermione, her eyes fixed on her dark prize across the hall. "Quite impressive."

Professor McGonagall had entered the hall with celebrity grandeur. The train of her glorious scarlet robes was so long that Hagrid had to hold them for her so that she would not snag them on an inattentive party member. She was Queen Elizabeth I, dripping in jewels and golden accessories. Her hair was pinned and plaited in a stunning updo, her eyes painted with an Aztec gold. She looked absolutely brilliant, and Hermione would have loved it had she not been so enthralled by the Head of Slytherin, inconspicuously sliding to the shadows by the bar.

"Hermione?" Remus asked in question, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was still standing with him. "Hermione, are you all right?"

"W...what?" Hermione whirled to face him, her eyes glazed in afterglow.

"You've gone all dreamy on me," Remus said, amused.

Hermione smiled, her eyes still filled with gentle urgency.

"Oh look, Hermione! Ron and Harry… over here, boys!" Remus called.

"Oh, Remus… no!" Hermione squealed. She tugged him onto a more shaded area of the floor. "Not now."

Lupin looked absolutely stunned. "It's Harry and Ron, Hermione. You know… your friends?"

"Well, at the moment, they're not," she said severely. "And I'd rather not talk about it."

Just then, Ginny Weasley's sky blue chiffon dress caught Hermione's eye. Though piled on top of her head in a bundle of tight curls, the orange-red of her hair set off the color of the dress with a bang.

Hermione knew that Ginny was probably a little unsettled after the scene she had put on in front of half the school and Professor Snape, but she did not expect…

"I'm not talking to you, Hermione."

Remus had placed a hand on his date's shoulder, silently wishing her well before moving towards the bar.

Hermione tentatively stepped towards her, a pensive look of concern on her face. "Ginny?" she inquired softly.

Ginny moved further away through the crowd, stepping around undulating hips and flying limbs, trying not to spill the punch she held in both hands.

"Please, Ginny, wait!" Hermione called. She had become much more urgent in her strides. Her best friend was getting away from her.

Finally Ginny reached the wall and moved to a rather lighted table by the buffet. She put the two glasses of punch down and sat next to Parvati and Lavender. The boys had gone off together somewhere and, judging by the looks on their faces, it seemed that Ginny had been in deep conversation with the girls before she had left to grab the punch.

Although she knew it might turn ugly, Hermione was not about to lose Ginny to some dumb mistake in Hogsmeade and a trail of rumors. She moved behind a column to the right of their table, waited, and listened.

"…Well no. That's not all I've heard," Lavender's squeaky voice whispered to the two girls in front of her. "I heard she painted a picture of him… and it's in her room!"

"No way, Lav," Parvati said in a low voice before giggling hysterically.

"Way, Parvati, just ask your date." Lavendar answered in a slightly quieter tone. "I just can't help but think, poor Professor Lupin. Look, he's not even dancing." She pointed towards the far end of the buffet - he was standing near the white chocolate fondue fountain and a forty-four inch pumpkin pie that Hagrid was slicing with a hand saw. "And she has the nerve to go to the ball with him when she'd like nothing more than to spend the night with grease-ball over there."

Hermione was livid but couldn't help following Lavender's finger towards the other set of French doors. In his patrolling, Snape had been lurking at the exits, waiting to catch students attempting to escape to the rose garden.

"Ew, Lavender, No," Ginny said with disgust. "Hermione's not like that."

That a girl, Gin. Stay faithful…

"But if what you say is true, I've definitely changed my mind about her friendship qualities. We promised each other no lies. No secrets… Hell, that was forever ago. And now she's so distant I can't even call her a friend anymore without feeling weird about it."

Oh, Gin, no. Don't feel like that… I'm so sorry… I… I don't know what… to say.

"She's not a real friend if she makes you feel like that," Parvati said in a serious tone. "We're here for you, though."

"I think we should probably tell her everything, Parvati," Lavender whispered sadly, dramatically sighing at the conclusion of her sentence.

"What do you mean, everything?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"Hermione's made new friends now, Ginny," Parvati said sadly. "Just the other day when Lav and I were walking past the bookshop on our way back to the school, we saw Hermione standing in the window."

"Yes," Ginny said with a short laugh. "Hermione in a bookshop… did you notice the sky was blue while you were at it?"

"Do you know who she was with?" Lavender questioned with a raise of her penciled eyebrow.

"I'm not sure -"

"She was with that Parajanov girl, Ginny. That shifty Slytherin," Parvati replied, ready to go off on a jealous tangent. "Though her skin tone is not as even as mine… and judging from her accent…"

"I know who she is!" Ginny replied with impatient disgust. "Are you sure you saw them there? Are you sure they were actually together… talking?"

"They weren't just talking. They were laughing, Ginny." Lavender looked around the room before pretending she had a new thought. "Say, wasn't that the day she threw that tantrum in the Three Broomsticks? We didn't see it but we definitely heard about it."

"It was that day… yes!" Ginny was nearly hysterical. How could the Hermione she'd come to know have gone off after such an incident and laughed?... With a Slytherin of all people?"

Hermione had finally had enough. She was fuming so much that the sudden jolt of jumping quickly from behind the column caused a muffled cry to erupt from her lips. She immediately started to yell.

"I do not tolerate being talked about so detestably by a bunch of fellow housemates! As Head Girl I have the right to take points from anyone who breaks the rules. And, believe me, I don't care as much about points as the lot of you do. I won't hesitate to put a dent in Gryffindor's standing!" Hermione was breathing so heavily she almost winded herself. Her posture resembled her past tirade.

"Don't worry, Hermione. We know you don't care about house points," Ron said in a low voice behind her. "We do know that you care about Slytherins though, and of course their Head of House."

"In Gryffindor we have a word for people like you," Seamus said in a tone similar to Ron's. He had stepped out of the shadows and brought his leprechaun hat down from his head to the table, as if he somehow believed this could get ugly.

"Yes, Seamus?" Hermione said with wide willing eyes, her tone berating.

"You're a traitor, you great bitch." Seamus said with his hearty brogue. "A filthy traitor."

Hermione was speechless for a second, stunned at the sudden change in power. This was Seamus, the same Seamus that taught her how to whistle in first year, that leant her his wool sweater when she was soaked at the frigid second task of the Triwizard Tournament.

"You're no friend to me, Hermione, though I am curious as to what you could possibly have to say for yourself!"

Harry Potter had entered the circle of chaos. His eyes were cast to the floor, but Hermione was sure they would have been as melancholy as the painting to the north of the hall. She almost lost it right there, wanting more than anything to reach out and pull him close to her… reminiscent of the night they had arrived. She'd give anything to rewind the past month and return to his embrace under the stars. His friendship was supposed to be as solid as the world itself. He was never supposed to leave her.

"Harry, I," she started. Looking around, she could see most of the Gryffindors crowding nearer. They loomed and swayed in garish costumes. And for the first time that night, Hermione felt out of place. She felt like she was trapped in another one of those gruesome pictures on the wall. She wanted to let go… to wake up. It was a dream, surely. This was her house. This was Gryffindor.

"Harry-"

"Why?" The word caught on his breath and came out too emotional.

Beyond Ginny, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati, Ron was lurking at the rear. His face was plastered with the expression he reserved only for Malfoy.

Beyond Ron, the crowd continued to sway under the spell of a dizzying techno beat. She was cornered and no one could save her.

"Why?" Harry repeated, a pleading strength coming into his voice. "I don't understand." He finally met her eyes. "I honestly tried to, Hermione. But the more I did, the more upset I got."

He moved closer, until their hands nearly met, it seemed their distance repelled them apart like magnets.

"The more I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, the more I recall your promise." He made an effort to keep his eyes locked on her. "You promised me, Hermione. We were a team, you said."

"I just, Mione, I wish people wouldn't rely on me as their only hero. I'm only one person…"

After a long silence, Hermione wrapped her arms around him from behind. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. He was the closest to a brother she would ever get. He was her best friend, not like Ron, he was Ron. But this was Harry. And Harry was one of the best things that ever happened to her. "Harry, you are one very special person. And whether you know it or not you mean the world to me. I love you, I want you to remember that… always." She paused, thinking, "You'll beat that big death-eating bastard and I know it. We all know it. We have the utmost faith in you."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. She felt that if she tried to hug him she would be tackled in her attempt by the grim spectators surrounding her. There was too much regret involved and it lumped into a great grief stone in her chest.

This is what it feels like on the other side, to feel the wrath of Gryffindors.

"You promised me, Hermione." He repeated as he winced from the sadness of the words. "You promised to stick by me, to keep my secrets safe… and you've gone and left me with Ron. Running around with Slytherins is a known danger. You're smarter than that."

"Harry-"

"You have every right to disagree with me, but I will continue to believe that the closer you are to Malfoy and his lot, the closer you are to the enemy. I have my guard up." He returned to Lavender's side. "You mark my words, there is something not quite right about that Yeva girl."

"That's not fair, Harry," Hermione replied with an intake of breath. "You don't even know her."

"And I suppose you do," Ginny piped up from her place beside Seamus. Her eyes grew pinker by the second as she held back tears of rage.

"It's not like I planned to run into her in the bookshop, Gin," Hermione said.

"She's a Slytherin, Hermione. When has any Slytherin been anything other than trouble?"

"Yeva is kind, Ginny. She's kind and down-to-earth… nothing like Malfoy."

"Do you honestly believe that she has nothing to hide?" Ginny asked. "Do you honestly believe that she's not using you?"

"Yes."

"Then you're pathetic," Seamus said with disgust. His lips puckered if he were going to spit, but thought better of it.

Hermione looked insulted. "So that's it then? You're all going to push me away because I made a friend from another house?"

"You're fraternizing with the enemy!" Ron shouted audibly from the back of the group.

"Oh yes," Hermione said angrily. "I've heard that one before. I understand how jealous you get in these situations, but as a seventh-year you should really learn to control yourself! We're not fourteen anymore."

"Save it, Hermione." Ron laughed. "Just go find Snape and be done with it."

Parvati and Lavender instantly burst into fits of giggles. Ginny shook her head in disbelief and Seamus rested his hand on the shoulder of a very disappointed Harry.

"You may think what you want," Hermione said with a lifted chin. "I will make my own decisions."

With that she lifted her skirts and pushed her way through the students that had gathered to hear the commotion. She had just reached the punch bowl when Remus Lupin crossed her path once more.

Leaning against the table he spoke. "I'll say something to them if you want." A light brushing of his fingertips at Hermione's temple was not welcomed.

Hermione dodged him roughly and moved to lift the silver ladel that would fill her glass with the pineapple concoction in the punchbowl.

"No, don't," she said. "In fact, why don't you join them? After all, you are such a loyal Gryffindor. You wouldn't want to be… fraternizing with the enemy, would you?" She fixed him with a death glare. "Lavender fancies you more than I do anyway. You should ask her to dance and leave me alone."

"Hermione!" he cried in surprise. "That's quite a change of heart. I thought -"

"Well what did you expect, Remus?" She asked accusingly, dropping the ladle into the bowl with a splash. "You really showed your support for me over there. If I didn't know any better I would have to think you're on their side."

"Hermione, I'm a teacher!" His tone was sincere but his face was incredulous.

"Oh, well noted!" she shouted. A few heads turned in their direction. "Thank you so much for proving my point!"

"I can't abuse authority, Hermione," he said gently. "There are professors that do." He nodded his head towards Snape, who was dangerously near enough to hear their conversation, the bits of silver in his suit capturing the minimal light. "I'm not one of them."

Hermione knew she was biased on Snape's part. But she had been outnumbered, and cornered. If Lupin had even stood silently by her during the argument it would have been enough to get a point across. That sort of thing was hardly considered "abusing authority".

"You know, you may be correct," she replied after a small pause. And then with a sharp look at Remus' unsuspecting face, she said, "Professor Snape may favor his students unfairly… but he's a whole hell of a lot smarter than you."

And then she slipped away, punch in hand, to a table completely shaded from the chandelier. She sat alone and pondered the night's events while Remus was left to toy with the idea of possible competition with a childhood enemy…

Minerva McGonagall moved to take her seat next to Dumbledore at the High Table. Her arms were folded across her heaving chest as she tried to catch her breath. She had been dancing for a near half hour straight, the upbeat tempo of the music being exactly what she needed to feel rejuvenated and young again. She sighed.

"Oh, Albus," she said with a smile. "I do enjoy a good dance, don't you?"

The headmaster was at an equal state of exhaustion. He conjured a pitcher of ice water and proceeded to pour two glasses of it.

"All this dancing reminds me of the good times," he replied with a chuckle. "Of course, there was never such a demand for swaying hips in the old days. I think I might have dislodged something."

McGonagall laughed, a good throaty laugh, so that her whole face brightened even more in the festive surroundings. She looked years younger in this spectacular setting and Dumbledore was thrust deeply into past memories of the time they had shared together.

"This snow is unrelenting, Albus. Do you think Hagrid will make it? It's awfully cold."

Minerva was sitting with her back to him, her hair falling in thick brown curls down her back, a deep crimson velvet dress hugged her womanly curves snugly as she propped her head on folded arms and stared at the winter wonderland beyond the bay windowpane.

Distant violins played a soft melody, an adapted version of "Greensleeves", and it gave the atmosphere of the circular office a warmth that was unparalleled. Sprigs of pine and red ribbon cascaded from the beams of the many windows and the French doors that topped the spiral staircases were adorned with holly and mistletoe.

Dumbledore glanced fondly above the mantle to the portrait of a noble looking Armando Dippet. The former headmaster had passed on leaving many wonderful memories. Dumbledore could not thank him enough for his position. He was adjusting to this beautiful office quite nicely. Hogwarts was his true home now.

"Yes, Minerva, dear," he replied softly, joining her immediately at the window seat. "I am certain that Hagrid has chosen the most beautiful trees in the forest for the Yule Ball." He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. "Don't worry, he's sturdy enough to change the course of the wind. I am sure he's quite fine out there."

Minerva sighed and leaned into his chest, her hair rippling in thick waves, mingling with the slightly graying auburn of his beard. The soft lines on his face gave him a joyous appearance that was irresistible to her.

It was in that moment that he had chosen to tell her that he loved her…

Christmas came, the most beautiful Hogwarts had seen in years. Peaceful and merry, the students that had stayed for the holidays were entertained on Christmas Eve with stories from the staff that had remained. Many a laugh was shared, and many a friend was made.

Hagrid did return with a small bundle of handsome pines, his much tamer beard littered with icicles and the nose of his round face red as a button. His trees became a beloved tradition of the Hogwarts Holiday season.

"Do you think," Dumbledore started. The music of the hall grew softer and more mellow… a slow song. Minerva turned to him with smile so vivid on her usually stern face. "Minerva, do you think you could spare me one more dance, for old time's sake?"

She smiled.

"Of course," she said as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Professor?" Hermione whispered, sliding so that most of her gestures would not be visible to the Weasley crew across the hall.

Snape slowly ripped his eyes away from the bustling crowd that cleared the dance floor. His dark irises met hers ever so briefly before glancing again to the buffet.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" he asked, more to the table than to her.

Hermione could feel the hall swaying as her face went hot and cold, her fingernails raked against her palms and her fear was beginning to take over… still… She slid silently against the buffet, closer to him, until her hips nearly touched his.

He did not move, though she watched the sinews of his fingers tense. The profile of his face tilted towards his removed mask on the tabletop. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and she was so close she could smell him.

His scent was impossible to describe. From this far away he smelled like a thunderstorm - like rain smells when it soaks dry earth and decomposing leaves, the trees of some deep forest and cold air. But she was certain, that if she stepped closer still she would pick up notes of sandalwood, bourbon, and sweet aging leather, of cloves and vetiver, and the bitter bite of cigarette smoke. She remembered it well from when he breathed on her before.

"Professor," she whispered again, barely moving her lips and hooding her eyes so that he would not sense her anxiousness.

"Professor, would you…" She trailed off just as Ron made eye contact with her from across the hall. He was now alerting their friends of her public conversation with Snape. She started to question her motives again, realizing in agony that she was acting more out of need than anything else. Harry, Ron, and Ginny had deserted her for the time being and that had pushed her enough to speak to him.

She cleared her throat and whispered softly to him, "Would you… join me… outside, please?"

Inhaling sporadically through clenched teeth, she prepared for anything - a quick retort of laughter probably the most likely of reactions. Only, she should have known better than to expect something as simple. It was not her imagination that was causing him to act slightly different in her presence. In the past weeks since the incidents in his office - since the incidents in The Three Broomsticks - he had regarded her with such bizarre expressions, when he thought she wasn't looking, that she became quite confused as to his exact emotions. She thought she had him figured out, and now he was hiding something.

To her immediate surprise, he curled his fingers around the mask on the buffet table and placed it again over his eyes in one swift motion. Ever so quickly lifting his right hand, he snaked it around the small of her back and guided her towards the left set of French doors - the ones that lead to the antique rose garden.

Across the hall, Ron Weasley had dropped an iced glass of Butterbeer so that it shattered loudly on the floor.

"That's bloody fucking it, Harry," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes still focused on the recently closed double doors and his mind reeling over the couple that had just closed them.

"Ron-"

"Don't you Ron me, Harry!" he screamed. "Hermione's just left for the garden with… Snape!" He said the name with such force, he could have spat teeth.

"I'm sure there's some explanation-"

"Honestly, Harry, I doubt it," Ginny added in a low voice. "I've put my all into being on her side through this mess and she's even left me in the dark. I'm her best friend."

"Thank you, little sister!" Ron said with satisfaction, throwing up his hands to illustrate the absurdity of the current situation.

"Well, I should say, was my best friend." Ginny added this last bit with a wrinkle of her nose. "If she's running around with Snape instead of spending time with me, then that's the end of it."

"Fuck it all!" Ron wailed. With a huge wave of his arm he threw an accusatory finger towards the doors. "She betrayed us!"

Once outside, Snape abruptly removed his arm from Hermione's waist. He whirled her around roughly and pushed her to a nearby bench.

She watched in horror as he towered over her, his breath once more hot against her face.

"So, Granger, you want to make a fool of me again… is that it! In front of the entire school this time!" He bellowed so loudly that Hermione was positive the students at the far end of the hall could hear from inside, amidst the party.

His hands dug into her shoulders, his eyes sparked in anger, and the color of his face was unnaturally red.

"N..no!" she said through a sob. She couldn't help but let her tears fall freely now. She was scared as hell and he was hurting her. "N…n…never, Professor Snape, never! I'm so sorry… so… so sorry…" She cried then, her words petering off into a whisper, choked in her throat, dry and heavy, but never once did she cease her apologetic mantra. "The last thing I want… is to give you more to worry about. Because…" She trailed off again, at a true loss of words.

He removed his hands and stood, regarding her with a glare like that of a hawk. His eyes were fire once more, even in the chilly damp of the outside weather.

"You should be ashamed," he said in a flat tone. "You should be ashamed as Head Girl, making such a scene."

"I am," she said through another soft sob. She slowly looked up at him, met his eyes safely for the first time all night. After all, she had nothing to lose. He had removed his leather mask again and the angles of his face softened a little. There was no one here to judge their actions or their words, and no danger of a façade being discovered. They were just Severus and Hermione now. The thought caused even more tears to fall from her cheeks. He couldn't know now… not yet. She could not handle this many rejections in one night. She must be safe with her words… careful.

"I respect you very much, Professor. You… you need to know how horrible I feel. The things I said… were foolish and-"

"Foolish?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow. "Beyond foolish, Miss Granger."

"Yes," she said looking again to the damp concrete. "Beyond foolish."

The simple fact that he was standing over her in a deserted rose garden was enough to let her imagination take over. His tall form towered like some sort of dangerous beast, but the feeling she got from it was delicious, and distracting.

"We should put this behind us," she said quickly, liking the sound of "us" on her lips though worried he might sense something too intimate, a hint of what she truly felt.

He nodded sharply.

"Agreed," he said.

Another few seconds passed. He had not moved and she began to wonder what he was thinking. The fact that he was in indigo was quite unsettling and it was a treat for her wandering eyes. He definitely noticed her studying him, she thought, but it didn't stop her. Finally she had enough of looking up at him. She needed him… nearer. She would try to get him nearer.

"Please, sit." She motioned to the place on the bench.

To her astonishment he sat. In the difference of one second, Hermione was seated on a small wrought iron love seat with her professor. The warmth of his thigh was beginning to become noticeable through the silk of her gown. Tingles ran down her spine as he placed his hand on his knee, ever so close to hers… just an inch.

It would have been a wonderful moment if he had not been staring off into the night with an expression devoid of emotion. If she wanted this version of "empty" Snape, she would have used Neville's boggart.

Truly, she cautiously reflected, Neville's boggart could never compare with the man, even this version – the one who was sitting atop the tulle in the fold of her dress, but seemed a galaxy away. She could sense his sinewy body sitting in repose next to her, but she dare not shift her eyes to take him in.

He was a holy temple at that moment in time, and the angels of her eyes were not washed of their sins. She had no grounds to molest his mood with a stolen glance, let alone a word... but after staring glassily toward the weirdly symbolic dead foliage for what seemed like an eternity, protecting him from herself for as long as possible, she could not resist any longer.

"What are you thinking, Professor?" she asked in a whisper.

For a moment, she was terrified that he would not answer.

"That you've lost your mind, Miss Granger. That you're accompanying me on this bench, and not a single word escapes your ever running mouth." He folded his fingers together.

"That's because I am thinking as well, Professor," she said softly.

Silence loomed once more. Snape's lack of response only served to push Hermione into vocalizing her own.

"…About the stars, and the night… the silhouette of those pines in the distance, and how they soften the sky with their harsh outlines. It makes me want to paint them."

Snape reclined so that his back slid along the bench in such a way that was startling to Hermione. He narrowed his eyes at the sky and breathed an audible breath of the soft wind encircling them.

"Yes," he drawled in his deepest voice. "Your youth is poetic, Miss Granger" He sighed. "But when you are as old as I am, you'll see this sky as only a reminder of your age… even a waste of years."

"I intend to live my life, Professor. It's a shame you underestimate yours."

He raised an eyebrow and faced her, meeting her eyes with a buried question to which he feared the answer.

"Quite bold, Miss Granger," he whispered, his hand curling around the scepter mask on her lap. "Quite surprisingly bold." His eyes widened dangerously as he clicked the consonants in his words.

Hermione was unsure what he meant.

"You deserve to know how admirable you are, Professor… for what you've done for the war… and for the Order."

"I deserve nothing from you, Miss Granger." He averted his gaze sharply, ripping the mask from her lap staring at it. "Do not speak to me as though I'm some sort of friend to you."

"Some sort of friend, Professor?" she asked through a haze of rising emotions.

The heat of his body pressed against her ribs and thigh, the words that had escaped his mouth raked at her subconscious. In her mind the canvas had torn and left his image in tattered pieces.

"Some sort of friend?" The tears were at the brink. "I'm sorry, Professor Snape. I was here to admire the stars, not to wish upon them… The stars! The beautiful wasted stars."

Hermione stood then, sliding her gown out from under his thigh as she did, unable to bear the fact that he was distancing himself more from her than he had been when they were baring their teeth in heated argument. That comment had killed the mood all right. He looked too alone and it saddened her with an eerie effect.

As she proceeded to return to the Great Hall, frustrated as ever, she was plagued by an even more rotten thought.

Could it be that Snape had no emotion left, save anger and sadness? Was the void emptiness? If so, she would have more luck falling for the wind. She was certain she had seen it, but now she wasn't anymore. The spark in his eyes could have been a trick in the light, and as far as she knew, it was. She had finally exchanged calm words with him and it destroyed all happy preconceptions. He was more than lonely… he was empty. As far as she understood, he lived because he breathed, but not because he wanted to live.