That flash of scarlet struck Severus right down to the bone, he was fixed to the spot, watching Hermione from his solitary corner. The floating pumpkin having moved along, Severus was now shrouded in darkness again and he contemplated the mere contrast of himself and Hermione. They were counterparts. Right now there she was, greeting everyone happily, a smile broad on her face and with an honest greeting in her heart for everyone she encountered. Then there was him, a silhouette of ebony hiding away in his corner, hoping that no one would approach him. That was until now.
As Severus scrutinised Hermione rather more than he would have dared allow himself on any normal day, he took in every inch of her appearance from the scooped neckline of the gown to the gold corset detail. Somehow in his focused attentions he was able to block out any other surrounding distractions and it was as if there was no other conversation worth attending to but the one she was involved in. He took note of every word she spoke whilst he noticed the three blood red roses fixed in her hair and he scorned the idiocy of every question about her apparel levelled at her, pleased with himself that he had guessed who she was immediately. Her graceful response to every question without even a wrinkle of the nose indicating annoyance impressed him, he couldn't tell whether she was acting the part of being pleased to meet Veronica or whether she was genuinely enchanted by every word the brash young women spoke. He imagined no one other than him studied every part of her as he did now.
The way the silken ruby fabric fitted her like a glove, knitting in at the waist before falling in a crimson waterfall like cascade, flowing into a train behind her. Severus did not know a lot of fashion, but he knew enough to believe that no other woman could have been born for such a dress. There was no perfection in this earth that lasted he believed, but right now as he stood shrouded in the secrecy of his shadowed corner he had found a perfect moment for his mind to remember always. It was here that he actually allowed himself to indulge in the high regard that he had held her for some time since she had become a potion's apprentice at Hogwarts. Such thoughts he had willed away as both sentiment and ridiculousness for a man of his age and temperament. All those years where the child Miss Granger had so irked his presence, the times where he had only ever found her irritating and worth only one or two sentences of scorn. He now felt a sense of shame in under estimating the capable, resilient and dare he say it beautiful woman she had become, yes it did strike a chord of ill ease within him about his attitude sometimes.
In this brief moment of introspection and pain he had lost sight of her and when his eyes moved to where Hermione had been standing, she was gone. How she could have disappeared from his view he couldn't quite comprehend, against all the white, black and green she stood out like a beacon of brilliance in bold red. But now she was quite gone and despite all his searching from his present residence he could not view her. It pained him, he needed to keep her in sight and that meant only one thing, he must brave the crowd and move. Taking a tentative step into the foray he began a ream of sincere sounding apologies with the occasional 'excuse me' thrown in there for the sake of politeness. When he did find her she might happen to look his way and he would not have her seeing him as the rude man she had grown up being wary of. He would have her see him as the man she occasionally exchanged easy pleasantries with, at fleeting moments in corridors. Those moments that she little knew were prized by him in his private thoughts.
As he took each step he felt a strange sense of boldness, he was now not a man changed but a man daring to display a part of himself that existed only to those that he trusted to know him better. The strange costumes and bizarre creations were blurs in his peripheral vision, he was a fleeting shadow in the search for a flash of scarlet and a pair of big, brown eyes that might throw him a kind glance as she did the previous day in the corridor.
Scouring and scrambling through the bustling groups he sought her but she was nowhere to be found, that age old part of him thought that only Hermione Granger would do a Cinderella style disappearing act. If that was the case she had lasted even less time than he, though she had forced a little more social exertion than he had. Colliding with a man wearing an obscure Venetian mask he heard a ramble of scrambling apologies which he tried his best to appease and bypass, but the man continued on rambling. With a more empathic 'excuse me' he barged past the masked figure and continued to head towards the Great Hall doors, the hot air of excitement around him feeling constrictive as though it were sticking to his skin, irritating him all the more. Snape found the revellers seemed to block his way on purpose, he hated them for their love of merriment and despised their discourse for it denied the way to his.
"Damn you all, you're all insufferable idiots." He cursed under his breath and with one last push through, sending one or two party goers staggering a little, one even half choking on a sausage roll. Then suddenly the crowds parted and he was free. He strode out of the doors and into the cooler, relieved air of the outer foyer. Hermione he was determined was nowhere in the Great Hall, he hoped like he, she had left a place where she did not feel enough kinship to justify remaining any longer. This of course could not be the case, the Potters were there, Weasley was there and on reflection he realised the Venetian masked stranger had been Diggory. These were her friends, yet she was not in their company any more. A cold pang of doubt hit Snape suddenly, what if despite all his deeps thoughts she had merely nipped to the ladies. The thought mortified him and he dared not contemplate it further.
Feeling the need for air, Snape crossed the entrance hall and pulling back the doors, he stepped out into the cool, crisp night. The fresh, icy air entered his lungs in welcome, the stale stuffiness of the atmosphere banished and he felt his spirits a little renewed. Looking up at the sky he saw angry black clouds snaking their way towards the moon, determined to dull its glimmer with their violent purpose. Yet illuminated in the silvery light he saw a figure moving across the grounds, cloaked in a colour he knew all too well. Beneath its dark train which dragged a little behind its wearer however disclosed a small flash of colour, dark blood red. It was Hermione. Severus wondered at why now of all times she had chosen to take a stroll when a storm was imminent, she had not seemed unhappy or melancholic at the ball, yet here she was wandering alone. Ignoring some sniggering and rustling from a nearby topiary he moved forward his eyes fixed on Hermione. Perhaps he was thawing as there was time he would have turned and blasted the topiary apart to steal the joy and promise of the snoggers concealed within.
It seemed on a fraction of a second later he was stepping into her shadow and not wishing to frighten her he said softly.
"Good evening, Hermione." He said daring to say her Christian name. "A pleasant night for a stroll."
Turning, Hermione's pale, creamy skin radiated in the moon light and her kind eyes regarded him with a soft look before flicking up to the sky. Severus felt the sting of stupidity at his remark.
"I think I have made a mistake." She said with a small laugh. "It's going to chuck it down any moment."
"I think you may be right." He put out his arm in a gesture of guiding her back towards the security of the castle, not daring to touch her but showing care and consideration. "Perhaps we should take shelter."
The weather spoke her answer for them for immediately a spatter of raindrops in quick succession fell onto Severus and Hermione's faces and the rumble of thunder rolled in above them. Hermione pulled up the hood of her cloak and willing to be led instinctively allowed Severus to take her hand and guide her past the greenhouses and into the courtyard. They barged through the door quickly and found themselves in a much more subdued part of the castle, the hubbub of the party only a distance murmur blotted out by the aggressive peels of thunder. As Severus closed the door, Hermione moved to a window, pushing back her cloaks hood wiping beaded droplets from her face. A flash or two of thunder illuminated her and Severus moved nearer to watch the flashing forks permeate the sky.
"I love thunder storms." Hermione said quietly. "It's fitting don't you think, for Halloween? I remember watching films with my parents as we huddled up together. I used to like it until I saw other children walking past our house all dressed up for trick or treating. For a muggle I certainly didn't do things like they all did. I feel as if I regret this now, like I've wasted times where I could have been frivolous."
"I think you have always been far too much of an adult to spend your life being frivolous." Severus said gently, the warmth of his tone stirring from the elation of having such a moment with her. He listened and felt that perhaps despite a generation difference or two, they were both old souls at heart. Still, the slight pain of her voice at what might have been denied her in the past made him feel an urge to share likewise experiences with her. Yet he was not quite ready to divulge the childhood Halloweens of his own past, scribbling in his diary and contemplating all that was not his to experience, a set of events and feelings denied him. Tonight was not the time, however much he would like the kinship of shared understanding, but it made him feel closer to her all the same. That would come in time.
"Out of all the fairy tales, what made you choose Rose Red?" He asked, wanting the privilege of diverting her from regretful thoughts. His reward was a look of happy surprise, her features lifted and she broke into a small smile.
"Every presumed I was Red Riding Hood." She replied, her light voice like music in her joy of disbelief at his guessing immediately. "Tell me Professor, how of all the fairy tales did you guess I was Rose Red."
"There was no red cape in sight." He said with a light, rueful tone. "Though for the likes of Veronica I imagine the colour associated with either Red Riding Hood or a stop sign."
"You heard?"
"Even the deaf would not be spared, Weasley has got himself a keeper there."
This was his greatest reward so far in his acquaintance with her, she laughed. It was not a short laugh for a fleeting joke, but a trill of genuine pleasure derived from his very own words.
"They can be fools together." He continued.
"I was that fool once if you remember."
"Youth is the time to make errors, Hermione." Severus noted lightly. "You're a wiser woman now."
Hermione blushed a little with embarrassment, the red hue of her cheek complimenting the silk of her gown.
"A little different from the insufferable know it all you once knew?" She chided, daring to surpass her nervousness at such a compliment offered by him and daring to match his candour.
"Quite the surprising young woman as it turned out."
"As are you." She continued, her voice braver than before. "You do not seem quite the bear that I remember."
"I would appreciate it if you would not reveal such a thing to the students." Severus remarked with a small smirk.
"Then perhaps we are only one small element away from the story." She said, her voice becoming almost a whisper and seeming to be overcome by a strange rush of emotion she turned from him and looked out the window. This was an opportunity that was rarely given to any man and at this very second Severus blessed whatever divinity had offered him the chance. He took out his wand and taking a step towards her he murmured softly.
"Nix de illa."
Hermione kept her gaze fixed on the outside, despite her boldness she somehow felt devoid of movement or words since he had neared her. Severus watched her, the silent battle dancing across her features as she tried to confine herself to one course of emotion, he saw a mirror image of himself amongst those varying looks. When the first flake of snow graced her cheek Hermione snapped her eyes upwards and her eyes widened with quiet joy as the small, delicate flakes fell around her. Some rested upon her shoulders and settled glistening in her hair.
"The snow was what brought the bear to her door as I remember." He said quietly, his hand daring at last to reach out and touch her shoulder, his gentle gesture turning her to face him.
"I do not remember you ever coming to my door to seek refuge from the snow Professor." She remarked, her voice finding its boldness once more and rendering her even more beautiful. The snow fell about her, dancing and swirling in elegant patterns, the perfect frame for Hermione he felt.
"You did not leave a fixed address after leaving Hogwarts." He said, now feeling the nerves which she had shed. Swallowing hard he controlled the clamour of his thoughts and rapid heartbeat, he took another step closer until at last they shared a space only built for intimacy.
"You do not seem quite the bear now, professor." She said quietly. "And you know where I live."
"I can only promise myself, I hope you left the thoughts and hopes of princes in your childhood Hermione. I have seen and lost too much to be anything other than what you see before you."
"Callous, cold and calculating?" She suggested jokingly.
"Perhaps, though I believe our current position strives beyond the professional appearances."
Aware that this playful verbal courtship could continue and that he would be honoured to pass an evening in such a manner, Severus felt reluctant to submit to the desire that now burned at his fingertips and transfixed his mind. Yet Hermione in her generosity and evident feelings for him had been too open for him to turn back, her very person hoped that he would dare to take the step from the veil he worked so hard to create yet that she saw beyond. His hand reached out and cupped the back of her neck, pulling her forward with the conviction that to act any other way would be unnatural. Hermione's large eyes were a mixture of surprised and she submitted to the moment. His other hand gathered her to him, the silken material scrunched between his fingers as he finally pressed his lips to hers. All else was lost to instinct, Severus did not even have time to contemplate the last time he kissed a woman. It might have started awkward, he might have clamoured with the sensations of tingling and fear that he had no doubt she likewise felt yet at this point he was lost to the moment. A lot could be said, written or contemplated about such a moment but to be lost, enveloped and at the mercy of such defied words, defied some aspects of memory, receptors and instinct intertwined and separated them from the world around them. The storm was distant, the party inconsequential and the rest was but the work of moments and the willing to submit.