Chapter 12: Bloody Ball
Dec 24
Aggravating auror. Wretched witch. Damnable dame. Where was she? Tonks was late for her chaperone duties. Undoubtedly she was too busy gossipping with the faculty hens about inconsequential drivel, to pay attention to the tower chimes signalling the guests' arrival. Knowing her penchant for disaster, she had likely trapped herself between a moving trick staircase. He could picture the hapless wench hanging upside down by the scruff of her outlandish robes, exposing her knickers for the entire castle to view. Or worse yet, the nosy auror had locked herself inside his potions storage, and was crashing about the shelves while inadvertently creating a concoction that would reduce Hogwarts to the magical equivalent of Pompeii. If only he could be so fortunate as to face down a raging inferno of lava and ash, versus the volcanic hormones of the teenage population.
Instead he was stuck in an overly warm ballroom, tacky in its Yuletide opulence. The white and sparkling ornamentation offended his inner dark wizard. The threat of a Cornish pixie invasion withstanding, the trees and wreathes were trimmed with more Griffindor scarlet than good taste required and not a hint of Slytherin green to be found. At the Headmaster's behest without a doubt. The Brothers Grimmer played a number of romantic songs, each one more saccharine than the next while a crush of ball attendees (not to mention a few less than sober professors) swayed in each other's arms. Sickening, perhaps a hint of arsenic in the gingerbread could improve upon his evening and standing in tenure seniority...
Worse yet, he had forgotten his flask of "festivity spirits". Between setting next semester's syllabus, Hogsmeade "babysitting" duties, last minute present procurement and decorating this travesty of a dance hall, he had barely time to scowl let alone deduct points from the irritatingly cheerful idiots making merry on the grounds. Brooding in peaceful solitude at Spinner's End's appealed deeply to the overworked and aggrieved potionsmaster. Cold dungeons and dusty libraries were preferrable to attending this spectacle of a holiday.
In keeping with the frosty theme, guests were asked by invitation to dress in white attire. Severus had ignored this request (obviously) and had arrived early from his supervisory rounds with a glare whose darkness was only rivalled by his midnight robes. His cloak possessed two formidable rows of buttons from throat to hem... all left unbuttoned, except for the top button. He had chosen a black silk tie over a black shirt instead of the usual white shirt with a high Mandarin collar. The breeches and vest (black of course) were tailored snugly to his whipcord frame. Perhaps too snugly, he was beginning to question their appropriateness as he could have sworn he saw Sinistra mouth the words: "Professor Tightbritches" to Burbage as they passed him by the staff lounge. His only reprieve from austerity was a pair onyx and platinum cufflinks. Witch Weekly be damned, it would never be said, that he was such a man victimized by fashion. After all, not every man could pull off the swamp hued shaggy muppet skinned dinner jacket and trousers ensemble of Hagrid.
With brisk strides and well placed glowers at parents hoping to enage in small talk, he avoided human interactions for the better part of an hour until he neared the refreshments area.
"So ya decided to ease up on the Sleek Easy eh Snape?". The Magical Creatures professor inquired bluntly as he attempted to smooth down his own unruly mane. "I'm trying this stuff called Snockswurt Slime myself. It don't smell bad... at least I don't think it does. What do ya reckon?" Hagrid tried to hold a lock of his hair beneath Snape's nose. The half giant weaved unsteadily since drinking a flagon of unknown origin and likely five more.
Abruptly Severus retreated, with a partial grimace of revulsion. "Perhaps you may want to reconsider that statement."
Professor Flitwick nodded in vehement agreement as he caught a whiff of his shaggy friend. The odor caused his moustache to curl. Meanwhile, Hagrid had unintentionally dipped his own beard in his cranberry ale while searching the crowds for a particular French headmistress. As he turned his face too quickly, the liquid splattered all over his elven colleague.
"But the saleswitch at the counter at Sage's Sundries swore that this here cologne would drive the ladies mad. Make a man irresistable, she sa'id." Hagrid claimed as he proceeded to smell his own armpits. Beware of brassy wigged strumpets peddling the virtues of questionable hair products.
"If said lady was a bog troll." Flitwick muttered as he attempted to wring the excess ale from his own robes. His formerly white robes were now tie dyed in pink ale.
"Snockswurt slime is known to eat away at skin after prolonged exposure." Severus intoned in boredom while an alarmed Hagrid lumbered to a fountain of sparkling cider and promptly dunked his head in.
"Hades's Hellions! Have you heard of the invention called a cup, Hagrid?" Vector handed an empty chalice to Hagrid who accepted it sheepishly amidst giggling onlookers.
"Thank ye kindly, Vector." Hagrid dipped the cup in the fountain but instead of swilling it, he stretched out his pants and poured the liquid down them. The relief was evident with every sigh. "Ahhh much better, mayhaps, I should not have experiment'd with the slime."
"Imbecile. How much ale did you consume?" Flitwick appeared aghast at Hagrid's disgraceful actions.
"It's me first. But I had a wee bit of rum in me eggnog, followed by dram of brambleberry wine, maybe a mug of honey mead." Hagrid admitted between loud hiccups. Rum is the least of your worries in this year's egg nog.
After drinking a large tumbler of creamy spiced drink, Severus could also feel the effects creeping up on him. He felt flushed... a little giddy. Severus examined the eggnog suspiciously and ran through a list of the usual suspects which usually included two ginger haired demonspawn in his head. Horrified, he left quickly before the jovial half giant started hugging his companions with weepy talks about how Christmas made him miss his poor dragon and the lastest litter blast ended skrewts.
As a group of Ravenclaws stood up for a butterbeer toast, he swore he captured a glimpse of a swan feathered apparition floating through the crowds. Her presence was shrouded in whispered surprise and speculation. The elegant alabaster of her back, was exposed through the Medusian coils of flame kissed hair. Gossamer spun scarves wrapped carelessly around slender limbs, were charmed to swirl enticingly as she sauntered from the entrance towards the head table. Her face was a mystery, but the teasing outline of her curves seemed hauntingly familiar to him.
Instinctively, Severus followed, deftly avoiding couples on the dance floor. Her timing was perfect as she navigated a gap through the bowing and curtsying of partners. He was a few yards behind, but closing in, determined to confront her. The glimpse of creamy shoulders and the sway of her hips beckoned him in siren's call. It was as if she had bewitched his mind as well as ensnared his senses. Just as he was about to speak, Dolores Umbridge stepped in front of him, and his quarry had eluded capture.
"Professor Snape, I do enjoy an excellent waltz don't you?" Professor Umbridge simpered beneath her false lashes. The odious woman was not the type to take no for an answer.
"I.." Before the man could refuse or toss himself from the astronomy tower in preference, her velvet gloved claws gripped his arms to her thick waist and back. The overdone rice powder from her wrinkled face flaked onto his clothes. Was that mole moving? The impeccably tidy man longed to brush off the dust but he was trapped in her surprisingly powerful embrace. He held back a sneeze, as the reek of Chrysanthemum toilet water and feline wafted from the cursed old besom. While he found it easy to match the swift gait of her movements, he could not break free, rather she drew him closer to her ample but not so charming bosom. Too close for his liking as he could feel and worse still hear her humming shrilly to the music. Ron Weasley wolf whistled at them as he spun around Hermione Granger.
The flustered professor wanted to punish the boy for his cheek but was whisked into a series of complicated turns in the opposite direction. To add to his humiliation, Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore were dancing next to them. "My what a charming rug you two cut on the dance floor, perhaps you could both teach a dance class for the Graduation Formal?" Minerva quipped as she noticed Dolores' hands stray scandalously lower than Severus' back. The Journal was correct, maybe he would be requiring therapy. While he was prevented from slapping her offending digits from his... person, at least not in front of witnesses, he wondered if the hypocritical hag would be penning the words: I will not grope my coworkers, using her infamous quill. Pity he couldn't toss her off the Eastern bridge... for that he would wait until he lacked an audience.
Praying that Dumbledore's legilimency would hear his mind's pleas for salvation from this hell hag, Severus waited for his chance... "Come Minerva, we will not interfere with their Yuletide eve. The night is young and the hallways are brimming with mistletoe. By the way, I hear the eggnog is delicious." Albus's blue eyes twinkled in evil mischief. The sorceror has the fortitude to deny himself the Immortality of the Philosopher's stone, but if denied the last blueberry muffin at staff meeting, Hades has no fury like a Headmaster deprived of pastry. The sour wizard expertly directed her wandering hands upwards towards propriety, barely restraining himself from making a rude gesture at his colleagues.
"You're not going to let him live this down, are you?" Dumbledore asked quietly, a crooked smile betraying his serious tone. "Never." Minerva smirked as they observed Dolores leading and the miserable Snape unwillingly allowing the handsy batteax to do so.
While ignoring her insipid questions about what he was doing later, Snape discreetly tried to peer around her towering headdress to search for another. The sorceress in question was surrounded by a bevy of unworthy sycophants, desperate for her attention. One held out a plate of mincemeat tarts while another poured her a flute of champagne. The third man in ridiculous lavendar cape (Headmaster inspired no doubt) and a poofy hat, held, out her hand daintily to bestow an exaggerated kiss.
Gilderoy Lockhart! Award winning smile, self proclaimed Adonis, Mr. Chisel Jaw himself was back at Hogwarts. The golden curled braggart (and utter twat) was monopolizing Tonks' time, finding every excuse to converse with her and worse yet touch her. Lockhart was a hippogryph's arse with more tentacles than the Giant Squid. It made the deatheater inside of Severus want to hex the simpleton' s bits off and feed the pathetic remains to Nagini. A cauldron of resentment simmered in his chest as he spotted her smiling at something the beaming buffoon (and yes still a twat) told her. When he could stand it no longer, he steered Dolores towards the group of unwanted suitors and just as she was about to twirl, he sent her crashing into Lockhart.
"A thousand apologies." Gilderoy, offered the spluttering woman a small handkerchief. Raspberry cordial, covered Umbridge from her toppled silvery bouffant to her stout pink nail polished toes. "Can I offer you a drying spell? VENTUS!" A tornado surrounded Umbridge, effectively dewigging her and blowing her skirts above her head. Laughter echoed around them.
"You... YOU!" The outraged DADA professor, tried pulling her gown past her bloomers while searching for her wand. "Forty galleon dress... these designer shoes!" Furiously she shrieked.
Lockhart stumbled as he tried to back away from her jabbing finger. Without meaning to, he stepped on the woman's cape and causing it to rip further. Dolores shoved Lockhart who tripped over Tonks' conveniently placed foot. While flailing for balance, the inept wizard had grabbed a hold of Dolores' hair extensions and promptly splashed into a water fountain. Both were soaking wet, as the maniacal woman snatched her ratty hairpiece from him and stormed towards to the girls' lavatory.
"Oh look at the chimes, while you sort this out, I need to..." Tonks struggled to keep a neutral tone and face.
"Return to your chaperone duties." Severus interrupted as her crafty smile beamed at him. Giving him a brazen wink, she wordlessly thanked him for this distraction. In return, he hastily hid a smirk, while gallantly taking her arm in his as if escorting her to sacred duty.
"And you thought I was the clumsy one." She whispered in a conspirational manner, leaning in closer, her hair grazing his face. "Remind me never to dance with you."
"Accidents do happen." The professor deadpanned, to hide how her gentle breath against his ear made him shiver ever so slightly. "Perhaps I need a better teacher..." Inhaling her her cinnamon essence, he nearly lost his infamous control. What the devil was in that eggnog?
"So it's a coincidence that the last teacher who danced with you ended up half naked and drenched." Nymphadora teased, tracing circles along his forearm only stopping when they exited the boisterous Great Hall.
I could say the same of you. The shoving of Lockhart and his 'tripping incident' did not escape his keen sense of observation.
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