Over 900 reviews now? *gobsmacked* and thank you! :)
Oh, and very naughty word alert in Severus' POV.
"Master Tam…"
Severus lips pinched together and he let his wand slip into this hand.
Amelia's…companion had urged him into the gentleman's dressing room with some –he admitted, interesting— proposals for a future collaboration. Then the over-eager wizard had shut the door. Blocking Severus' view of the hall.
The dead weight of being Hermione's Mentoris, of being polite to a fool he would normally hex into a stain on Lucius' priceless Persian rug dragged at him. Other wizards were watching. Waiting. He wouldn't dishonour Hermione by being…well, himself.
"And of course, with it, we would improve upon the Star Grass Salve, thereby—"
"Tam!" He bit out the name. Enough. But that demand went unsaid. He would not risk leaving Hermione alone in this bloody house. "Owl me. My duty now is to my witch."
"Of course!" Tam clapped both scarred hands over one of Severus' and shook it heartily. Severus would never risk a laboratory with the wizard, he was certain of that. Clannan Tam was a danger to himself and others from the evidence of his burns and scars. "Of course, don't let me hold you back any longer."
Severus frowned at him and swept out of the room. The hall was empty. Fuck. How long had Tam delayed him? He rapped his knuckles on the other dressing room door and it creaked open, just enough for a little elf to peer up it him. She beamed.
"Master of the Ring! How may I be helping you?"
"Is Miss Granger within?"
The elf's ears flattened, her shoulders drooping. "The Ribboned-One left with another witch."
Severus bit back a curse, nodded to the elf and tore up the twisting stairs. What was Amelia playing at? Only she could orchestrate this. Drag a famous Irish Potions Master to a Malfoy Ball and throw them together. A distraction. Why? She'd made it quite plain she didn't like Hermione…but to do this? In Lucius' Manor? What had the girl done to her to earn it?
The crowd of witches and wizards was a wall of glittering fabrics and overpowering perfumes. And…fuck, his Ring was hot, searing his skin. Fear and disgust thickened in his flesh. Draco? No. Hermione's reaction to him had been…less…
Lucius. And he was fucking touching her. The…cunt. Something slight. Fleeting. His precious mane against her collarbone. Severus fingers fisted around his wand and flickers of magic sparked from his Ring. The horror of the other wizard's touch burned his own skin. And with it, a foul lust that turned his stomach.
Severus' own magic churned. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Duelling Lucius Malfoy –as much as he'd love to hand the wizard his arse— would destroy Hermione's future. She'd knew that, too. Which was why the air wasn't sizzling with her hexes.
Merlin's balls. He was caught as if he still balanced the world between two insane megalomaniacs. Why the hell did a psychopath such as Lucius Malfoy hold this much power and influence in the world?
Severus pushed through the throngs of people, wincing tight smiles at one witch and wizard after another. Gods, he was fucking Severus Snape. They should be scrambling away from him as if he were a hungover Hungarian Horntail—
"Severus." Narcissa touched his arm and met his gaze. Anger and determination gleamed in her darkened eyes.
Another who had to find balance, though Narcissa had to live till her death with her foul husband. Had she known of Lucius' plan? Did she have a plan of her own?
The witch looked back into the noisy crowd. A deliberate move. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." And with that, she slipped away.
What…? Severus followed the path her gaze had taken… And a dark smile curved his lips.
Oh, well played, Narcissa. She would do nicely. Very nicely, indeed.
Hermione's stomach clenched and the little food she'd eaten before they'd left for the Ball stabbed at her. Sourness burned. For all his beauty, Lucius Malfoy was truly vile. "I have yet to decide on my Card, Lord Malfoy. I believe the choice rests first with the ribbon-wearer." She didn't phrase it as a question. Just as he hadn't.
"It is the way of things, Hermione." His aristocratic voice ran with a sharpened edge now. "A Malfoy goes before all. It is an accepted fact." His smile was more of a sneer. "Just what is Severus teaching you?"
Her pulse thudded, but she was not rising to that bait. Would he, would both of the obnoxious Malfoys, lay claim to every single witch or wizard who wore the ribbon? Or was it because she was who she was? The mudblood. The girl who —with her friends— had reduced his master and most of his House to little more than ash?
She lifted her chin, too aware that she was making an enemy in the scintillating beauty of his Manor. Anyone else she could hex, just as Severus had ordered, but not this wizard. Again a Malfoy was beyond the accepted rules. Git. "As I said, the choice of whom I take to my bed is mine. Not yours."
His voice cut above a growl and his knuckles whitened around the head of his walking stick. "Miss Granger—"
"Lucius!"
The crush of guests surged and Hermione stared up at the tall, thin form of Augusta Longbottom striding through hastily parting people.
She blinked. Hermione had last scene Neville's Grandmother at the Battle of Hogwarts, dirty and bloodied. Now, she looked…regal, dressed in dark, intimidating silks, with no sign of a vulture about her person.
Hermione curtsied, relieved at the interruption. "Lady Augusta."
Augusta gave her a curt nod. "Miss Granger. A pleasure, as always. More so to see the ribbon about your throat. Well done, girl. Where…" She glanced about her, her sharp eyes narrowed. "Ah, there you are, Severus."
Her Mentoris slipped in beside her and Hermione gratefully put her arm though his, easing herself away from Malfoy. Severus' hand covered hers, the gentle squeeze quashing away the last of her fear. Her questions, her worries could wait. She shoved down his history with Madame Athcasta. For now. It didn't matter in that moment. He was back with her.
Severus gave the older witch an elegant nod. "Lady Augusta," he murmured. There was a curl of a smile to his lips, polite, sure…but Hermione had been living with him for days. Staring at him. Studying him. Yes, there was also a hint of satisfaction in that smile. He was up to something.
Augusta flipped her gloved hand at Malfoy. She huffed out a tight breath. "Well, Lucius?" Her stentorian voice carried and a swell of quiet took the surrounding witches and wizards. Ears didn't need to strain. Not at that volume. "If your father had had his way, you wouldn't have such a lack in manners. I would have ensured the ribbon at your throat made you well aware of them."
Unbelievably, a touch of pink topped Malfoy's cheeks. Augusta Longbottom had been –would have been?— the Mentoris to Lord Malfoy? Hermione's gaze flicked to the listening guests and caught more than one look of disbelief, of shock. Of dark and delighted amusement. Had it not been widely known? Had Malfoy kept it a secret? And now he had the mortification of it revealed –loudly— before the multitude of every pureblood he knew.
Malfoy swept into one of this exaggerated bows. "Lady Augusta."
"Of course, Tom Riddle –odious little tick— spread his foulness, the Ribbon and the Ring fell away and for us it was not to be." She shook her head. "Poor Dymphna. A sweet girl. And Ian. He never did recover." Her dark eyes fixed on a so-very-still Malfoy. His magic thickened the air, but he could hardly hex the witch before him for insulting Voldemort or his actions.
Augusta sighed. "I do believe –if such a thing were truly possible— that those two would have shared rings."
Malfoy's mouth twitched upwards in a show of politeness, but his pale eyes were cold. "As you say, a myth, madam."
A sly smirk grew on Augusta's mouth, and a wicked shine to her gaze revealed another witch entirely. Someone dark and decadent. "Was that your fear, Lucius, dear? I had not yet met my wonderful Horatio when your father contracted me for your…education." She tapped a bony finger to the tip of Malfoy's perfect nose. More than one wizard gasped at her daring to touch him so…intimately. She leant in close, but still, her voice carried. "Of course, there was still the role of Magister…"
Malfoy's eyes were wide. "Lady Augusta, if you would excuse me? I believe my wife has need of me."
And Lucius Malfoy, the scourge of wizarding society, fled.
Hermione had to remember to breathe, to stay calm. She bit the inside of her cheek to deny a fierce grin. Oh, she had to put this in a letter to Neville. Or offer him the memory. After the horror of only a moment before, it was joyous.
Augusta took a saucer of champagne from a passing elf and tray, lifted it to Hermione and winked. "Cheers!"
Hermione pressed a gloved hand to her mouth to fight back her desperate bark of laughter. Merlin, she wanted to hug the witch till she squeaked.
Severus bowed his head, his voice soft as he murmured, "My most sincere thanks, Lady Augusta."
The witch let out a long breath and grinned at them both. Her voice lost its strident edge. "It was a pleasure. I've waited a long, long time for that." She bowed her head. "Miss Granger, Severus. If you'll excuse me? I left my companion caught with an awful troll of wizard. I must rescue him."
And she surged into a reverently parting crowd.
Hermione stared after her for a moment, before she looked to the wizard beside her. She shook her head. "Severus, what was that?"
He gave her a short smile, his dark gaze on the still-watching witches and wizards. "Not here. Later. I promise."
A soft laugh escaped her. "And yet another one."
"I am going to lose count."
She could wait. In the moment, simply having him next to her, his power, his strength…it was enough. It was. Until the gnawing uncertainty returned all too soon.
My life is my own.
The words, spoken in his velvet-lined voice, haunted her thoughts. He'd been betrothed to Amelia Athcasta. Could she believe Malfoy? After all, his…his devotion to Lily Evans had driven Severus to defeat Voldemort. And what did the witch mean to him now? A friend? More? Madame Athcasta certainly seemed very…proprietary.
Hermione fixed a smile on her face as Severus led her through a succession of gilded rooms to the brightly light supper hall. She knew so little about the man whom she'd invited into her bed. And the more she learnt, the less likely it was that his desire for her was little beyond the agreement that bound them.
But…he was here with her now. Had obviously arranged –somehow— for Augusta Longbottom to publically humiliate Lucius Malfoy to drive him away. What she had with him would…suffice. And after, well, it was doubtful she'd look at another wizard for a long time. A very long time.
The noise of the supper hall smacked into her and Hermione shoved down her melancholy thoughts. A sea of round tables, covered with snowy white clothes and gleaming silver filled the room. Flocks of gleaming birds, little more than a burst of wings and a fixed point of golden light, lit the vast space. Everything shone and mixed with it, was the delicate but addictive scent of a winter forest that teased her scenes…tugging at ancient, hardly known memories of magic and feasting.
It would be beautiful a beautiful scene. But this was Malfoy Manor. The cut of sour darkness was always, always present.
"He's moved us," Severus murmured, as he saw her seated at a large round table.
Two wizards stared at her from across their table with disconcerting heat and she held back a groan. Honestly, didn't they think of anything else? Or was it the same draw as the vile Malfoy? A taste of the first ribbon-wearer in decades.
Hermione flicked a glance around the room and found Malfoy seated at a raised table to the front of the hall. Narcissa, Draco, Astoria Greengrass, and two others whom she didn't recognise, sat with him.
"We've been snubbed, my dear."
Hermione smirked at Severus as he sat beside her. "I'm stricken."
"And we meet again!"
Hermione's heart turned over at the sudden, booming voice. Master Tam, pulled out a chair beside Severus and Madame Athcasta arranged herself elegantly upon it.
The witch let out a happy little sigh. "How fortunate for us that we're seated here." Her smile was quiet and edged with a definite smugness. "Quite the coincidence."
Hermione wondered how elegant the witch would look with a fierce application of a pus-squirting hex. "Yes. Quite."
Ugh, Madame Athcasta just plonked herself down at their table. I was not expecting that! *sigh*
Oh, and I named Neville's grandfather something suitably heroic. The poor wizard didn't have a name. lol
As ever, let me know what you think! :)