Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas which you recognise as being from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series. The plot of this story is my own, but I have no intention of making any money from it.

Chapter 5

Oh hell. What do I do now? Hermione fought to disguise the look of panic in her eyes, and checked to make sure that her Occlumency shields were at maximum. I can't turn him down... that would look suspicious and draw attention and I would have no reason to do so because I'm not meant to know who he is... With a smile which did not appear forced, she allowed herself to be whirled back into a dance.

That was how Hermione Granger learned that Severus Snape was an excellent dancer. The silence was extremely awkward, though they both spent the dance staring into each others' eyes with a deep intensity, as if waiting for the other to make the first move.

When their waltz ended and a foxtrot began, Hermione's brain told her that she should really be making her excuses and moving away now, but her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and she moved seamlessly into the next dance with Snape. Snape! Her brain was screaming. You're dancing with the man who murdered Albus Dumbledore! His voice interrupted her reverie.

"Given that we are on our second dance, would it now be prudent for me to learn your identity, madame?" The raised eyebrow was a surreal flash back to her childhood and potions class. His casual assumption that, she would have to speak first, however, made her eyes flash and for a moment she forgot precisely to whom she was speaking.

"I generally wait for the man who asked me to dance to reveal his identity first, before giving my personal information to complete strangers, sir." She added the last word mockingly, trying not to think about all the other times she had used the moniker on him.

To Hermione's complete surprise, his mouth twitched, as though amused. "Indeed, what an extraordinary lapse in good manners on my part. My name is Severus Snape, and I am headmaster of a selective boarding school in a remote part of Scotland. Is that now enough information for you?"

She smirked a little, flashing her eyes at him. "Indeed. That will be enough information to begin with, though later I may require... more. Helena Andrews, MP for Flydale North. Delighted to meet you, Mr. Snape." Where on earth did that come from? I'm not meant to be flirting with Snape! Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea...

"Severus, please." Hermione really, really tried not to think about the fact that he was her ex-Potions Master turned evil-bastard-who-killed-Dumbledore-and-ruined-my-life. She smiled.

"Helena, then. So, tell me about your selective Scottish school."

"It's a school. And it's selective."

She raised an eyebrow. "A bit vague, no?"

He smirked, then started slightly. "It's a very selective secondary school for eleven to eighteen year olds with... gifts beyond the norm." As he explained, Snape studied her face, appearing to search for something. "All students board, and stay there for ten months of the year. I used to teach, but after a change in circumstances a few years ago, became headmaster."

Hermione thanked any gods which might have been listening that she was good at controlling herself, because if not, she thought that his description of the Battle of Hogwarts, which had changed her life and killed many of her friends, as a "change in circumstances" would have caused her to hex him into next week. Or just punch him in that ridiculously long nose. Either would have been satisfying.

Instead, she smiled sweetly once again. "So what brings you all the way down to the Home Counties just for a party?"

"Lucius is... an old friend."

"Indeed?"

"I am in fact, godfather to his son Draco, about whom you may recently have seen something in the papers."

"Ah, yes. Isn't that him over there, talking to the red-head?" She gestured over to where Harry and Draco were talking quietly over glasses of champagne, figuring that since Snape did not appear to deplore her company completely, she could at least use the situation to help out her friends in their faux-courtship.

"Yes, it is. They appear to be getting on very well." Snape's face gave nothing away. He turned back to her.

"Helena, I appear to be rather tired of dancing – would you care to join me at the bar for a glass of wine?"

He offered her his arm, which she took, and they glided together across the room to the bar, where he graciously procured her a glass of wine. He motioned to the open patio doors, and she looked hesitant for a moment, before noting that both Harry and Draco were watching her, having noticed who her companion was. She nodded almost imperceptibly to them, indicating that she was safe, then followed him outside. It was warm, despite the cold December night, thanks, she supposed, to heating charms.

Smiling at Severus, she took a sip from her glass, leaning against the ornate marble fencing which surrounded the patio.

"So, what is a beautiful witch like you doing, working for the Muggle Parliament?"

Hermione spat her wine out over the side of the railing.

Author's Notes:

Muahahahaha. :D Sorry about the short chapter, but I couldn't resist the little cliffie at the end.

Kudos to MISS'Hannah-MarieHale'BOOKWORM , Lil'DarkFox , Sic Vita Est , Katherine Silverhair and arioso dolente for noting that indeed, Flydale North is a Doctor Who reference. Specifically, Harriet Jones introduces herself repeatedly to everyone from the Doctor to the Prime Minister to the Slitheen as "Harriet Jones, MP for Flydale North." When she becomes PM herself in a later episode, she amends this to "Harriet Jones, Prime Minister" when talking to the Sycorax. Ten points each to the House of your choosing! :D