A/N – This chapter has been put up appallingly late! I can only apologise as pesky real life has been interfering and taking up a lot of my free time. I've also changed this to a Hermione/Draco story, as that is one of the main pairings. If anyone has any thoughts about things they'd like to see, please get in touch (review or pm) and let me know what you think.
This is a longer than usual chapter to make up for it taking longer than usual to write!
Disclaimer – This all belongs to JK Rowling, except my OCs.
Place Your Bets Please…
Saturday morning hadn't started out well for Hermione – Malfoy had accosted her after breakfast, muttering something about the ball and meeting up to work on it. She had planned to spend the morning practising elemental magic with Ron (after he had finally come around to the idea, as well!) and so had agreed with very bad grace. She may not be fond of Malfoy, but she was not going to be shirking her head duties.
Her mood improved when she entered the Head's common room, beating Malfoy yet again. Her book still lay on the table, but it had obviously been read since their meeting the week before. What surprised her even more was the amount of notes scattered about, regarding decorations, costumes and entertainment all based on the Hans Christian Anderson theme. He had evidently put a lot of time into research over the last week, not that she could think how he had time with all the homework they had been assigned. But why was he doing all this?
When he finally entered she was sat in the wing-backed chair again, the book on her lap as she flicked through the beautiful pictures. Malfoy looked at the tenderness with which she turned the pages, before walking over loudly so that she would hear him. He sat on the sofa and began gathering his notes up, scowling as he realised that the Gryffindor had already looked through them. When he had them stacked in a pile he looked up to find her staring back at him. His scowl deepened.
"I know you find me unbearably attractive, Granger, but do you have to stare so much?" He was rewarded by seeing her blush profoundly, as she dropped her gaze back down to the book."
"In your dreams, Malfoy."
Her comeback was less confrontational and more flirtatious than he was expecting, but he smirked as he saw that she was still red. "The tomato effect you're sprouting means that it's your dreams I'm interested in."
Hermione spluttered, unsure whether to blush more at the implication or groan at the cheesiness. Eventually the blush won out (maybe because her subconscious knew Malfoy would take groaning the wrong way…). She brought the large book up to try to hide her face from the embarrassment she knew was written all over it – she was useless at hiding her emotions. Eventually she composed herself, and looked back over at the blond who was lounging on the small sofa again, his feet resting idly on the arm nearest her and his legs crossed at the ankles. His gaze rose to meet hers from the notes he was idly flicking through, and Hermione felt the blush run up her neck again. I've never realised how grey his eyes are before…
In order to distract him, and herself, from the new thoughts that had sprung up in her mind, she decided to go on the offensive instead.
"What is all this, Malfoy? What are you trying to achieve? If you think you can charm your way into my life, you're mistaken! You spent years, years, telling me that I was beneath you, worth nothing – you can't make up for that in a couple of weeks by doing some extra curricular reading and trying to rein back the insults! I haven't forgotten what happened in the war, how you stood by and watched while your sadistic aunt carved into my skin! By rights, you shouldn't even be here!" She poured out so much pent up anger and confusion in one short tirade and stood panting, already beginning to regret some of her comments. She knew the events at the Manor were not Malfoy's fault and she had even stood by Harry when he testified for Malfoy at his trial, but there was so much bottled up pain from the remnants of the war that she had not been able to discuss with anybody that she couldn't help herself.
The blond glared at her from where he now stood next to the coffee table, his notes scattered everywhere. His face was paler than usual and his expression, which had started out incredulous when she began had turned to sorrow, guilt and anger in stages.
"How dare you," he hissed, "Assume that you know anything about me! You, Saint Potter and the Weasel have no idea what my family and I went through during the war! And this, all this, you assume is for you? Maybe I had entertained some ridiculous hopes that we may all be able to put the war behind us and call a truce, but that is not why I am doing all this. I am doing this for me. Even with the golden boy's testimony I escaped Azkaban by the skin of my teeth, and every move I make this year is being watched in case I move a single toe out of line. Believe it or not, I actually care about my future, as the only way I can provide for my mother is to do well and get a respectable job to try to improve the family's name, as we have lost everything. Whatever else you may think I am, and I generally don't care what you or any of the rest of you Gryffindors think, I am not a monster. If I keep McGonagall happy then maybe she won't dislike me as much as the other professors do, and she may even be able to help me.
"If it is worth anything, I am sorry about what happened at the Manor but I can't change it. But don't fool yourself Granger, by thinking, at any time, that I do anything for you!"
He finished his tirade and glared at the girl in front of him. Hermione could only stare with one hand to her mouth, she knew he was expecting an angry retort but in all honesty she couldn't do it. After everything she had just heard, she was beginning to understand him. And with that understanding came a wave of pity, for everything he had been through and everything he was still going through. She couldn't help the tears that began to well up in her eyes.
"D-Draco, I'm…"
She didn't get any further before Malfoy abruptly dropped her gaze and stomped out of the portrait hole, leaving Hermione to curl up in the wing-backed chair and cry for all those who had been damaged by Voldemort, not in the least the blond Slytherin.
-x-x-
Draco slumped down against the wall next to Dumbledore's portrait. He definitely shouldn't have yelled like that – after all, he was meant to be getting into her good graces. But it was her fault, if she hadn't been so infuriating, questioning his motives about everything then he wouldn't have to constantly defend herself. After everything that has happened you would have thought that she would have learnt to keep her nose out of things that don't concern her. He threw his head back, hitting it against the wall with a clunk. He couldn't get the image out of his head, of her stood there, mouth slightly open, eyes wide and beginning to tear up, the expression of pity. He didn't need her pity! With one last bang, he dropped his head forwards, and almost subconsciously pulled up the sleeve of his robes to look at the mark underneath, the ugly red welts staring back at him. He didn't deserve pity, everything that had happened was his own creation and this accursed scar on his arm was the proof of that. Even in death, Voldemort was managing to use it against him, to remind him of why he was not worth the pity of someone like Granger.
In anger he let the robes fall back down his arm, hiding it again. He stood up and stormed off towards the Great Hall for lunch, not noticing the figure of Dumbledore sliding out of his portrait with a knowing look on his face.
-x-x-
Professor Dante was sitting in her private quarters, calmly marking transfiguration essays. It was not exactly what she had planned to spend her Saturday doing, but was part of the teacher's lot, and it wasn't really so bad. She was marking the OWL students, and at least some of them had the brains to create quite interesting reports. She was sat in a red chair near her fireplace, basking in the midday sun that streamed through a window to her left. Her quarters were remarkably plain, decorated mainly in red or gold and looked remarkably like the Gryffindor common room. Of course she had done that deliberately, she thought it would bear truest to the house that she headed and wanted to show some loyalty. Of course, no students and not even all staff members knew she had never actually been to Hogwarts as a child, and therefore never been sorted into a house, but just in case she tried to make her allegiance obvious. Looking around the rest of the room, there would be very little out of place, if one didn't look too closely at the paintings.
The paintings in the room were the clearest sign that Professor Dante was no ordinary witch. For a start, two of the four large frames that ordained the red walls were in fact filled with photographs. Still photographs. One depicted a cityscape, and the other a building. Any muggle would have immediately recognised the cityscape as a panorama of New York, a still photograph depicting the hectic streets, yellow cabs and gritty realism of the famous city. The second photograph was also a city scene, but this one older and black and white. A train plummeted out of the first floor of a inner city station, and lay touching the street below in a crumpled mess. Again, a muggle would immediately be able to identify the incident as a famous accident in Paris in 1895, but no wizard would be able to say what it was. Dante appreciated both photographs as monuments to the achievements of mankind, with or without magic. That and she found the train highly amusing.
The third picture was a more common magical depiction, of unicorns grazing peacefully amongst the rolling hills. Every now and then one of the unicorns would shake its mane, or move to a new patch of grass. They were there when she had first arrived, but the unicorns had the pleasing tendency to greet Dante whenever she entered her rooms so she had decided to keep them.
The final frame seemed to contain nothing. It was the most prominent one in the room, hanging over the fireplace in the centre, but the canvas in there was completely blank. It was certainly an oddity, but Dante did not seem perturbed by it.
It was from this final painting that a gentle voice now issued, disturbing the transfiguration teacher as she continued with her marking.
"Guinevere."
Her head sprang up, red curls bouncing causing her to growl and tuck them behind her ears. When she realised it was the picture frame talking to her the scowl was replaced with a smile.
"What do you want?" Her warm tone made the words affectionate.
A figure slid into the portrait and smiled at her. "You're looking well – it would seem that teaching agrees with you my dear."
Dante put her essays down and stood, moving over until she was standing in front of the fireplace, gazing up at the image of Albus Dumbledore. "I'm glad you think so, but I don't really think you came to discuss my work."
"Well no, you've caught me out as usual. I just witnessed the most interesting argument between our Head boy and Head girl. I can't help but think how good they are for each other, even if they do not see it. I am reminded very much of two other such individuals."
"I don't like what you're insinuating, old man."
"See!" The painting giggled joyfully. "You're even beginning to sound like him!"
The young teacher's glare did nothing to stop the former headmaster's glee, and she gave up and rubbed her forehead with one hand. "Is there anything else you wanted to tell me, or did you just want to keep interfering with my love life?"
"Well there was something. Shortly after Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger's enlightening argument, he left the common room and very obligingly showed me his dark mark."
"And?"
"And it appears to be red and very sore, similar to Severus's from what you told me?"
"That's what I expected. I would appreciate your opinion actually. I am of the mind that this is not just a lingering curse that Voldemort left behind."
"I would agree. If it was some residual magic I would have expected it to have started as soon as he was defeated, and to be very fast acting. Tom would not have wanted his Death Eaters to long outlive him. But honestly, I would be surprised for him to have done it at all. He believed that he could not be defeated."
"So that means that somebody else is trying to use the dark mark against the Death Eaters, presumably to rally them as it doesn't appear to be causing them to be seriously ill." Dante's face was set into a grim line as she contemplated the possibilities.
"I share your concerns. Tom will have put precautions in place to ensuring he was the only one who could wield the mark. To circumvent that would take great power – I know very few people who could do something like this, and none that would have the inclination to do it. It worries me."
"Nobody on this plane…" came the reply, and as the blue eyes met the same fear was shared by both, the unspoken words hanging between them in the silence of the room.
A demon could do it.
-x-x-
Malfoy slumped into his usual seat next to Blaise and opposite Pansy. The rest of the Slytherins were, as usual, avoiding the three of them. Malfoy kept himself amused by thinking they were the inverse of the 'golden trio', as instead of being loved and hailed as heroes they were shunned and followed by whispers of 'death eaters'. This was particularly unfair as it only applied to a third of them anyway – Blaise's family had remained carefully neutral and the Parkinson's had preferred to sit and support the Dark Lord from the sidelines without becoming actively involved. Draco thought that their treatment was a little unjustified, even if his own was completely warranted. However, it had been Blaise and Pansy's choice to still stick by him, and they knew that they would also be ostracised if they did. Draco appreciated it, probably more than he ever showed them, but then it didn't do for a Slytherin to show to much of their emotions. 'Unlike those bleeding Gryffindors' he nearly growled to himself as he stared over to the red and gold table, where Granger was sat next to Weasel with her back to him. Malfoy scowled at the scene before staring back down at his plate and viciously stabbing a potato.
"Is it even worth asking what's wrong?" The question came from the Italian next to him, who was eyeing up Malfoy's black expression with some trepidation.
"No." The blond replied curtly, before dropping his fork with a clatter and rubbing his eyes with his hand. "It's nothing, just had to spend a morning with Granger."
"Mm hmm. I thought you were going to try to build bridges?"
"I was..." Draco speared another helpless potato, picking it up on his fork and scrutinising it closely. "It would be a lot easier if she wasn't so..."
"Condescending? Clever? Irritating?" Blaise supplied.
"Nice."
"What?" Not the reply that his friend was expecting. He had heard Draco call Granger many things, but nice was not one of them.
"She actually had the balls to scream at me earlier, questioning my motives and implying that I was trying to get into her good graces."
"How could she? What a cow. It's none of her business why you do anything!" Pansy's shrill voice brought the attention of some of the other Slytherins around the table, but a quick scowl from Malfoy soon persuaded them that their own food was far more interesting.
"I thought you were trying to get into her good graces." Blaise muttered as he returned to his dinner.
"Pansy, keep it down. It was fully justified for her to be suspicious, I've hardly gone out of my way to be trustworthy have I?"
"So what now?"
Draco shrugged. "I keep my head down and keep her off my back. I'm working hard this year and I don't need that bookworm to spoil it."
With that said, he looked over to the object of his thoughts, to see Ron Weasley drop an arm around her. He returned his attention to his dinner and began stabbing peas with more ferocity than was strictly required.
-x-x-
Hermione shrugged Ron's arm off her as she tried to eat, struggling to move her arms freely enough and getting irritated. Ron backed off with a hurt looked that she barely registered as she continued to eat. It had been a difficult day, with Malfoy flying off the handle this morning and then she had struggled over transfiguration in the afternoon. The work that Professor Dante was setting them was incredibly complex, requiring a great deal of concentration which was something she had been lacking. Images from the morning had been constantly running through her mind and she couldn't help but think that maybe she had misjudged the blond. However irritating he may be, he probably was just trying to keep out of trouble. She had noticed how the three Slytherins from their year had been ostracised from the rest of the group, even if Harry and Ron evidently hadn't.
"What do you think Malfoy is up to? He's been scowling at us all dinner."
Hermione sighed and put down her cutlery. "I'm sure it's nothing Harry, for once it would be nice if we didn't all jump to the conclusion that Malfoy was out to get us."
Harry wisely avoided eye contact and went back to his food, but Ron had never been that keyed in to Hermione's moods.
"What is up with you today? You're being really moody!"
"Ron!" Ginny hissed at her brother from where she was sat next to Harry. But instead of snapping, Hermione took a deep breath.
"Sorry Ron, I've had a rubbish day. I guess I'm just a bit tense."
"Well how about coming to watch us teach the kiddies to play Quidditch tomorrow? That will relax you." Ron had such a hopeful expression on his face that Hermione couldn't help but giggle at him.
"I think I'll pass Ron, but I appreciate it."
Harry looked over with concern in his eyes. "Maybe it would be good for you to relax a bit, 'Mione. You've been working really hard. We're planning on a small get together in our common room later – join us?"
Hermione thought briefly before deciding that she needed a break. "Sure, sounds good. You go on, I've barely touched my dinner."
Her three friends, having finished dinner quickly, left to go and get ready whilst promising to save some butterbeer for her. Hermione finished her meal in silence, still thinking about her argument this morning. As she finished up she saw Malfoy leaving the table, and hurried after him. She wanted to catch him to apologise, but wasn't sure how he would take it. She was still deliberating about what to do as she followed him into the entrance hall.
"Malfoy," Hermione called after him, making her mind up at last. Surprised, the blond spun around to look at her again. "How about next Saturday morning, for poster making?" She thought that she saw his mask slipping for a moment as he almost graced her with a smile, before he nodded curtly and disappeared around the corner of the corridor. With a sigh, Hermione resumed her trek to the Gryffindor common room, hoping that her instinct to put a little faith in him wasn't completely misfounded.
-x-x-
The week flew by, with her classes and her tutorials taking up nearly all her time, and before she knew it Saturday had come around again. Sat in the Head's common room, Hermione almost decided that she could come to like Malfoy as they created posters for the Christmas ball. Well maybe not like him, but certainly not dislike him. When he wasn't being an arrogant twit he was really quite amusing, and his sarcasm when vented against appropriate targets could be very witty. He also seemed to have quite a creative streak, as the two of them waved their wands to bring the white pieces of parchment into glorious technicolour. Hermione found herself admiring his wandwork, and then wondered where the talent had come from. He didn't even take charms, yet seemed to have a knack for it. He noticed the attention and smiled shyly, one of the first times she had ever seen him smile properly.
"My father disapproves of Charms, he believes it is not a worthy talent for a Malfoy."
Hermione nodded, understanding. It seemed a great pity to her that a talent such as Malfoy was demonstrating had been discouraged due to prejudice. "Well…you're very good at it."
"A compliment, Granger?"
"Don't get used to it," Hermione warned, grinning at the Slytherin who replied with his customary smirk although to Hermione it seemed less offensive than before. They worked in comfortable quiet for a while, making small adjustments to the posters until they were satisfied.
"Not bad" Hermione praised, looking over their work. Each poster depicted a snow scene with some of the characters from the story illustrated, and some key passages from the book. The images had been taken almost directly from Hermione's book, and the main poster that would be in the entrance hall on the large notice board was of the Snow Queen sat on her throne, with Kai at her knees looking adoringly into her face and Greta looking on whilst hiding from the Queen. It truly was an impressive picture, and with the frozen palace echoing the silver and blue theme colours it demonstrated what they were trying to achieve perfectly.
"Hmmm." Malfoy gave a typical unenthusiastic answer, but for once Hermione didn't care as she was beginning to suspect a lot of his usual mannerisms were just his way of defending himself. After all, if you don't care about something then it doesn't matter if people mock it.
"We now need to put them up," The witch said briskly, moving to roll up the posters. "Which ones do you want to take?"
"I'll take the ones for the potions corridor, the Slytherin common room and the Astronomy stairs, they're all in the same part of the castle."
"That's fair, so I'll take the Great Hall, Transfiguration corridor and Gryffindor common room. I'll ask Luna to take the Ravenclaw one and I'm sure Hannah Abbott will do the Hufflepuff."
Malfoy just shrugged and picked up his posters, before leaving without a word. Hermione rolled her eyes at him – he'd reverted back to his former aloof self now that they had finished working together. She wasn't offended by his attitude as much as she might once have been, and she patiently rolled up her allocation of the posters and left.
-x-x-
She managed to find Hannah and Luna, passing posters on and freeing her to pin up her own. She was on the final poster, the largest that would be placed in the entrance hall, when Harry and Ron found her.
"Hey 'Mione, still not finished with the posters?"
Hermione sent a smile at her boyfriend, squeezing his hand slightly before returning to her task. "This is the last, I just need to get it straight."
"Where's the ferret? Isn't he meant to be helping you?"
"Don't call him that Ron, and he is helping. We divided the posters up between us."
"Since when do you care what I call him?" Ron was staring with his eyes narrowed at his girlfriend.
"Honestly Ron, the war is over and it's time to try to move on. I know you're still hurting," she said softly, gently placing a hand on his arm as she thought over those they had lost. "We all need to try to move on, and if that means being slightly less antagonistic towards Malfoy, than so be it."
Ron relaxed under her touch. "You…you're right, 'Mione. Fred…wouldn't have wanted this. Well he probably would have wanted me to call Malfoy a git, but you know what I mean…"
Hermione's reply was to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, just as she had months earlier in the room of requirement. Harry looked away politely – he wasn't overly keen on his friends snogging right in front of him but they didn't seem to do a lot of it so he didn't mind too much.
However, not everyone shared his view. "Honestly Granger, in the front hall? It's enough to make anyone ill!"
After untangling herself from her boyfriend Hermione looked over at the blond Slytherin, who was stood with a sneer on his face alongside Blaise Zabini. A blush ran up her cheeks, but she forced herself to make eye contact. "It's a free world, Malfoy. It's not my fault you can't help being jealous." She knew almost immediately that it was a bad idea to tease him, she wasn't even sure what came over her.
Malfoy was momentarily speechless. He had not expected such a comeback from the normally nerdy girl. But Malfoys did not lose their cool, even when having to witness that going on in the corridor.
"Jealous? You wish Granger, but I'm afraid the Weasel just isn't my type."
Hermione surprised herself by grinning slightly and turning back to Ron, only to find that he was still glaring with barely repressed fury at Malfoy. Knowing Ron's temper and how much trouble it often left him in, she sighed and placed one hand on his arm. "Come on Ron, he's only joking…". Harry was standing gormlessly, his mouth hanging open after their exchange. For Hermione to say something so….flirtateous - and to Malfoy! - was very unusual. But then to hear the blond reply with something equally lighthearted had completely shocked him. From out the corner of his eye Harry could see that Blaise was mirroring his expression, before he was distracted by Ron.
"What is it Malfoy? Come to lord it over us as usual? Except you aren't any better than us anymore, are you? No more riches to make us feel inferior since the Ministry took it all away! Not even the high and mighty Malfoy name, to remind us of your superiority. How does it feel now to know that you are no better than us? Or in fact worse, at least we didn't sell our souls to Voldemort!"
Malfoy's face had hardened during the exchange – he may be trying to turn over a new leaf but he wasn't impervious to Ron's insults. "Pathetic as I may seem Weasel, I'm still worth more than you." He sneered as he said it, looking every inch the same man as he had been for the previous seven years. Hermione rolled her eyes at the pair of them, all this posturing really didn't get them anywhere. The next moment Ron had tried to launch himself at the blond, only Harry saving Malfoy from what would probably been a broken nose. Watching Harry struggling to contain Ron, and Blaise similarly pinning Malfoy back, Hermione felt her anger boiling.
"Both of you, grow up! The war is over, don't you see that? You need to put aside your petty, childish quarrels and just get over it! I'm not expecting you to be friends, I'm not naïve enough to think that will ever happen, but you could at least both be civil to each other. Set an example to the rest of the school!"
Both Ron and Draco eyed the witch apprehensively – her hair was bushier than ever, her faced flushed and her eyes blazing. Privately, Draco had never thought that she looked better.
"Sorry, Granger." He meant it, too. He had decided to try to turn his life around, and getting into pointless fights with the Weasel was not the best way to go about it.
For the second time Harry's jaw dropped open at Malfoy, unused to this level of civility from him, especially to Hermione whom the Slytherin had always considered of inferior birth. He was dimly aware of Blaise and Hermione also mimicking fish, although Ron was still glaring. Hermione recovered first, inwardly pleased that the cold boy seemed to have changed more than he let on.
"Yes, well… I'd prefer it if you didn't have to attack each other in the first place. You're nearly adults for Merlin's sake!" She rubbed her forehead wearily; the shouting was taking its toll on her head.
"Why are you sticking up for him, 'Mione? The git doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve anything from you." Ron was still glaring at Malfoy with barely disguised hatred.
Malfoy flinched, imperceptible to most but Hermione caught it, although the next moment he was back to his usual aloof self. "I don't understand why she bothers with you either Weasel, unless you've become her next charity case." Hermione felt a flash of anger at his words, but mingled in there was something else that she couldn't quite identify. He's just insulted your boyfriend and you're busy wondering why you don't completely hate him? Ron's right, you need to get a grip Hermione.
"THAT'S IT!" Ron's face was blazing with anger as he leapt away from Harry.
The next second, Ron and Malfoy were stood with their wands out and pointed at each other's throats, a snarling expression mirrored on both. Harry and Hermione gazed from one to the other and stepped back slightly.
"Come on Ron, it isn't worth it…"
"No, for once it is. I have had it with this ferret walking around, looking like he owns the place. He shouldn't even be here, not after what he did!"
"Fighting in the corridor, Weasley?" The cold drawl of Professor Snape echoed down the corridor, causing Harry to wince and Ron's wand arm lower slightly. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention, I think."
Ron gaped, lowering his wand arm. "But he started it!" Malfoy, always knowing when to stay out of trouble, already had his wand away and an innocent expression on his face as the professor turned to him.
"I find little evidence to suggest that, Mr Weasley."
Ron spluttered and probably would have retaliated, when help came from an unlikely source.
"I would argue that it takes two to tango, or in this case duel." Snape whirled around, to glare at the newcomer. Dante smiled brightly at him, and then walked up to the group. "Detention Mr. Malfoy, Thursday evening after dinner in my office. Don't be late. And I don't know why you're smirking Mr. Weasley, I'm not releasing you from your detention." Ron, who had been looking hopeful, was downcast again as he glared at Professor Snape. He was about to argue further, but a well-placed stamp from Hermione's foot made him think better of it and with a final glare at Malfoy he sulkily walked off towards Gryffindor tower. With a glance at Snape's expression, Harry and Hermione followed, the latter muttering an excuse about needing to go to the library. Blaise tugged Malfoy away, who was still scowling after getting a detention, but unwilling to stay and argue when Snape seemed murderous.
The second the students were out of earshot, Snape rounded on Dante. "How dare you intervene when I am assigning punishment! Even McGonagall would not have dared."
Dante raised her eyebrows. "Don't pout at me Severus, I didn't undermine you that much. Even you must admit that those two need to learn to put the past behind them and move on, in the same way that we all do after the war. House favouritism must stop, now."
Snape continued to glare, but found himself unable to disagree with her. The long-time rivalry between Malfoy, Weasley and Potter did have to stop. Of course this only added to his displeasure. "You'll be telling me I can't support the Slytherin quidditch team next," he sarcastically added.
He was completely thrown off course by the dazzling smile that was returned to him. "Of course not, although why you'd choose to support Slytherin when there are teams like Gryffindor around…"
"Slytherin is worth twice as much as Gryffindor. Relying on relentless optimism instead of talent."
"Yes but optimism appears to go far in life, does it not?" She replied knowingly, then narrowed her eyes at him. "If you are so confident in your snakes, how about a wager to spice it up?"
"I am not betting on a quidditch match."
"Well I wouldn't either, if I was betting on Slytherin."
"Damn it, witch! Your lions don't stand a chance! I will take the bet."
"Excellent, and if I win you have to sing the first song at the Christmas ball."
"What!" Snape's eyes bulged from his head, and he stumbled backwards. "You want me to do what?!"
Dante just shrugged in reply. "If you can't take the heat…"
"Who said anything about heat? You're on Dante, prepare to sing."
With that Snape twirled and walked away, followed by her tinkling laughter. He was halfway down the next corridor before he stopped in his tracks, realising what he had just agreed to. His face lost all remaining colour at the thought of standing and singing in front of the entire school. There was only one thing that he could do about it – do everything in his power to ensure that Slytherin did not lose!