I started out with a typical Dumbledore-throws-a-costume-ball idea, and somehow it morphed into this. Angst, gender-swapping, and sensuous dancing ensues.
Disclaimer: to my knowledge, JK is not a plumpish 18 yr old with exam troubles.
Houses of Cards
Across the school, heads of teachers and students alike rose to listen to the Headmaster's magically broadcast announcement.
"THIS WEEKEND, SATURDAY NIGHT, THE SCHOOL WILL BE HOSTING A MASQUERADE BALL IN THE GREAT HALL. THIS IS AN INSCHOOL EVENT, AND ALL TEACHERS AND STUDENTS WILL BE REQUIRED TO ATTEND. THIS MEANS YOU, SEVERUS. COSTUMES ARE MANDATORY."
This was greeted by an unquenchable flurry of laughter, groans, and heartfelt sighs. Snape's current class, sixth year Ravenclaws, glanced surreptitiously at him, waiting for the certain explosion. They were mildly disappointed, therefore, when he merely sighed, looking exasperated.
Later that evening, in his chambers, Severus waited for Dumbledore's arrival. The old man always did that, without fail. He always tried to make sure that Severus 'got out more, met new people' and yada yada. So his agreeing this time would undoubtedly throw the old man for a loop. And he certainly intended to attend. This was going to be fun. He had a plan. One that did not entail cheesy costumes and second-rate ideas. No. He was going all out.
"Severus?" Snape smiled. Time to throw the loop.
Albus looked out over the hall, at the throngs of colourfully costumed students and teachers that flowed and danced throughout. He smiled. It was good. His students were having fun, as were his staff. Though he had yet to encounter Severus. The snarky potions master had promised to come. Without arguement. Actually, perhaps he should have questioned that. Usually there was some row, some persuasion or other to try and get out of it. To give in without a fight ... He had to have had a plan.
"Headmaster," came a silibant voice at his elbow. Startled, Albus turned to look into the dark brown eyes of a rather stunning young woman in a venetian mask. She smiled at him with a mouth that no male could help but find alluring. The Headmaster blinked in surprise.
"Ah ... yes? Do I know you? Forgive me. I simply find it difficult to pin it down. I meet so many people, you see." He smiled back at her.
She laughed. "Well, I should hope you know me. You invited me after all." She eyed his confused expression. "Ah, past pupil? Slytherin? Selene? Ringing any bells?" His opaque expression remained, soften by an apologetic shrug. She shrugged. "Ah well. I'm here. Unless you want me to leave?" He shook his head emphatically.
"No no. Happy to have you. I just ... seem to have a little difficulty with names at the moment." He nodded encouragingly, waving in the general direction of the party. She gave him another of those smiles, and he found himself rather flushed. Then she held out a slim hand to him, asking for a dance. He blinked, but she didn't withdraw it. Slowly, hesitantly, he took the proffered limb and allowed himself to be led out among the throngs, glancing helplessly back to meet Minerva's disapproving stare.
Their mismatched apparell drew numerous gazes: the old man dressed as a 1960's muggle hippie in neon orange flares and a livid green drawstring shirt, waltzing with a serene, 6ft nothing, gorgeous young woman in a black kimono and white venetian mask, her hair coiled up in a complex raven tower. What was more, she was a more than accomplished dancer, her sure pantherlike steps carrying them forward in a predatory prowl, cutting through the other couples with ease. He let himself be swept along, rather helpless in the face of her confidence.
When the dance drew to an end, he was almost relieved to be released, quite content to stagger back to his comfortable seat and allow some other poor, unsuspecting male to be caught up. Minerva took one look at his fish-out-of-water expression, and declined to comment, letting him collapse in peace. The eyes of the staff in general were rivetted on the dark figure on the dance floor, as were, to the annoyance of the female population of Hogwarts, those of every other male in the room.
She turned a full circle in the centre of the room. "Is this what Hogwarts calls a party these days?" She asked, a strangely familiar sneer on her shapely lips. "I can remember funerals that had more life! And where's Slytherin? There was a time when we were the life of any party. Now look at you. Come on. Who'll prove me wrong? Who'll dance with me?" There was no answer.
She smiled then, a grim smile. "Alright then. A challenge. A contest. Which house is the best for having a good time? Choose me a partner, a representative of each house, and we'll find out. Give me one dance with a champion of your choice from each of the four houses." She turned to the teachers' table. "And maybe the staff will reward us with a champion of theirs?"
This garnered a reaction. The Slytherins moved forward. "That wouldn't be fair!" Draco called out. "Our head of house isn't here. He can't represent us!" The others nodded in agreement. Albus grunted. That wouldn't have been a problem if the bastard had done as he'd agreed. But despite his warnings, Severus had still managed to weasle out, avoiding harrassment by agreeing, and then just not showing. A new approach, granted, but the same ploy. So the kid had a point. The staff were short a representative.
But this didn't seem to phase Selene. She simply laughed. "Oh, I don't mean the house reps of the staff. I meant the best of the student four versus the staff champ. Don't you think you can beat them? They're only 'old fogies', after all. Though even in my day, old Flitwick had quite the reputation, n'est ce pas?" She winked, and Filius blushed furiously.
There was a flurried moment of discussion as the students picked out their champions, and the staff glanced about in consternation. But before long the five chosen dancers were lined up: Neville Longbottom for Gryffindor, Blaise Zabini for Slytherin, Ernie McMillan for Hufflepuff, Terry Boot for Ravenclaw, and, of course, Filius Flitwick for the staff. The other students stood in serried ranks around the dance floor, the same tense anticipation among them as could be found at a Quidditch match. This had the looks of an interesting developement.
Ravenclaw's champ opened the competition. Terry strode forward confidently, having had a number of dance lessons, and prepared to engage. The band, working on their own capricious intentions, started a smooth, lively foxtrot. Moving with a feisty bounce, she caught him up, and swept him off. For the opening few bars, he struggled to match her snapping gait, then he found the rhythm and leapt into the dance properly. He moved briskly, engaging with his partner as the dance demanded, yet all could see how curiously hesitant he was to get needlessly close. Their movements, therefore, were accomplished, but businesslike. Her laugh, and sparkling eyes, seemed to put him off, so that by the time the dance drew to a close he was flushed from more than just the exertion. All in all, not a bad effort from Ravenclaw, but approached with all precision and no passion.
Slytherin stepped up to rectify that. Blaise moved with his usual unconscious swagger, yet his eyes displayed eagerness and delight. Selene met him halfway, standing together in the centre of the floor, waiting for the music. Perhaps picking up on his confidence, the band chose a juddering rumba movement to accompany this pair. She laughed openly, obviously delighted. Her movements were stalking, predatory, as she went for him, but he matched that with equal vigour, taking her in a circling hunt with no-one really sure who was the predator, and who the prey. Though Blaise was less technically excellent than his Ravenclaw predescesor, he made up for that with sheer attitude, and it was clear that both parties enjoyed that segment.
A hard act to follow, undoubtedly, but the inherent rivalry decreed that Gryffindor try next. Egged on by his fellows, Neville moved forward, blushing before he even began, but ready as ever to try his best. The music of a stately tango began, strong vibrant beats that guided his footsteps as surely as his partner. Though Neville was not the best at any even vaguely athletic activity, he did possess a certain gift for the rhythm and precise flow of dancing. He matched her effortlessly, flowing through the steps with a calm he only rarely felt. As it went on, the blush faded, to be replaced with a charming quiet joy. Watching the simple enjoyment he took in this, even the other houses gave him tacit support. Even Blaise granted him a small nod of acknowledgement. Albus felt pride swell.
Hufflepuff's Ernie was the last of the student contestants to step up, looking vaguely disgruntled at his position, and the competition he had to beat. Not to be outdone, the stocky Hufflepuff picked up the waltz as it began, and stepped out with a will. His movements, though smooth, did suffer a bit for overeagerness, but Selene took that in stride, and the pair made a more than competent circuit, only showing life in the finale, where the swirl of sound allowed for a low dip on Selene's part, supported easily by her partner. Laughing a touch, Selene pulled away at the end.
She panted, resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. She looked them over, smiling. "Oh, difficult. How do I choose, between Ravenclaw precision, Slytherin confidence, Gryffindor passion, and Hufflepuff willingness? You each demonstrate the attributes of your houses in your dancing. How do I choose between them? Impossible! Impossible. I'm afraid, darlings, that you'll have to be content with a draw. I simply cannot choose."
She straightened, ignoring the considering murmurs that travelled the room. She glanced back up at Albus. "Midnight is the revealing time, is it not?" she asked. "The time we take off our disguises?" At his nod, she turned to Filius. "Then we'd better get a little dancing in before then, yes?" Laughing she joined Hogwarts' most notorious Casanova in a cha-cha, sweeping the tiny professor around with an abandon that caused more than one student to back up from the edge of the floor. The wily Charms master joined in with a will, performing a series of complex manoeuvers with his partner that looked vaguely indecent, while being perfectly chaste.
But Albus, though he watched with amusement, was suddenly preoccupied with a terrible suspicion. Disguises. She was wearing a disguise? A venetian mask was not a sufficient disguise to warrant concern over her revealing what lay beneath it. So what was this disguise. He was terribly afraid he knew.
The clock began to toll the auspicious hour as the dance came to a finale. In true dramatic fashion, Filius swept the much larger woman into a slide, to finish kneeling with her across his knee in a fluid embrace. And from that inopportune position, Selene reached up to take hold of her mask, and took it off.
Filius, panting with exertion, looked down with a grin in time to see the illusion slip delicately from the figure in his arms, and found himself holding a leering Severus Snape. With a cry, the Charms professor dropped him, but Snape slid smoothly on his tucked knee to stand over the gaping smaller man. He turned to gaze at the varying expressions of horror and shock and, in Ernie's case, outright disgust, that ringed him. He sneered that familiar sneer that Albus had so nearly recognised on Selene's face, and turned to salute Albus.
"You were right, Albus. This has been a most enjoyable evening. We really must do this again sometime." Albus could only nod helplessly, conscious as he did so of the grim faces of his fellow staff members as they regarded him suspiciously. He was beginning to regret ever challenging Severus on this issue. The man couldn't have gotten a more clever revenge.
"And Filius?" Severus added, with malice aforethought. "I trust I'll see you later? You're welcome to my quarters at any time." He finished with a suggestive wink that had Flitwick flushing with something decidedly other than delight. Severus swept triumphantly from the hall, followed by the murmurs of most houses, and the cheers of his Slytherins.
It was only later, when Albus had calmed down and gotten over his shock and embarrassment, that he realised what Severus had done. For those brief few moments of dance and competative fun, Severus had united the houses in a way that no-one else had ever managed. He'd taken the four suites and built a house of cards that was stronger and higher than the houses of the four separate. Alright, he'd engaged in a little genderswapping to do it, but that was no more than traditional Slytherin deceit. The point had been made. And it was a good one.
Well? I know chicken-shit about dancing, so this is purely improv, but what the hey? What do you think? R&R? Pretty please.