As loath as Severus was to admit such a thing to herself, Sirius Black was inarguably good-looking that night and a gentleman to boot; with a pleasant countenance and an easy, unaffected humor. As such, it was not very long at all before the anamagi drew the attentions of all the other revelers, what with his fine, tall physique, dashing smile, and noble mein. And even if all of those characteristics failed to attract the gaze of the sizable horde of unmarried women, the underexaggerated report of Black having reclaimed an interest-increased fortune, one rumored to be only slightly less than that of Lucius's, certainly was. Cosette Selwyn, all of nineteen, even went so far as to pull down the bodice of her skintight gown- tugging the lacy fabric so far down that Severus soon feared a rogue nipple might appear. Even the gentlemen, especially those of the Pureblood persuasion, pronounced the former pariah to be a fine example of a man. Rephaim Slynt, as flamboyant as flamingo, even went so far as to drunkenly splutter that the former Marauder was surely as handsome as Merlin himself.
Severus frowned as she watched the Gryffindor conduct himself. An expected outcome to all the attention he was receiving, the exoneree was now making it his mission to charm every last soul in the crowded ballroom. Oblivious to her disdain, the Dog carried on with his mingling unperturbed, lively and unreserved. The aristocrat even went so far as to dance every dance, never once refusing anyone who might ask. Not even Fatima Bulstrode, who enjoyed the reputation of having the grace, as well as the size, of a troll.
In short, the pampered Pureblood behaved in a manner entirely contrary to Severus's own. For she, only two hours into the lavish affair, had danced only thrice with Forsythe Avery- the fear of having her exposed toes trampled by those less graceful neccessating the implementation of such an impolite policy. Narcissa had been sending glares her way all the evening because of it, but Severus paid the looks as little mind as she would a Quidditch match.
Even more unlike her extraverted counterpart, Severus adamantly refused to be introduced to anybody new. Shunning such ordeals, which were very often as awkward as they were uncomfortable, she opted instead to occupy herself with pacing about the overheated room- pausing only seldom to participate in a conversation with someone from her familiar clique.
As Severus had been conducting herself in a less then flattering manner since the festivities started, it came as no surprise to her that the general consensus of the invitees regarded her person as unpleasant. It not long at all before she was declared proud and haughty by her fellow women, and it was even sooner still that the men declared her the most disagreeable woman in the room.
Amongst those most violently against her was Charles Montague, a man whose former childhood idolization of her had quickly dissolved and developed into disgust when Severus had refused to dance with him for the fifth time that evening. Such a slight had not been received well the third time, and the final snub had seen the broom-maker absolutely fuming. But the former Gryffindor was as stubborn as he was large, and allowed only a mere fifteen minutes to elapse before he strode toward her to try his luck for a sixth time.
"Severus," Began Charles, his words uttered through clenched teeth, "I simply must have you for the quadrille."
"I have already informed you that I will not have you." Severus hissed.
"Come now, Severus. You must know how impolite it is for you, the sister of the host, to stand idly about when there are guests to be danced with."
"I would think my brother would find the badgering of a woman far more impolite than a refusal to dance."
"One refusal might be excused, and two forgiven, but six is unconscionable." Charles philosophized in a condescending manner. "You had very much better dance with."
The towering Gryffindor's choice of words, as well as their deliverance, served only to enrage and rile Severus further. That he should act so entitled to her attention and body was an assumption unforgivable in her eyes.
"I would sooner partner with a feral werewolf."
Although Severus managed to keep her voice firm, she soon found herself taking several quick steps away from the rapidly-reddening man. Silly or not, the broom-maker did have a proclivity for reminding Severus of her father- All the more so when said 'gentleman' was enraged and beginning to raise his voice.
"Merlin, Woman!" Charles exclaimed, spittle escaping his thick lips. "I would not be half so priggish as you for all of London!"
"I find I would much rather be a prig than a boar!" She growled, refusing to be cowed.
"You are an ill-made, spiteful little creature, full of envy and unearned pride."
"Well," Severus huffed, glowering up into the face of a man thrice her size, "What does it say of your character that a 'creature' such as the likes of me has refused you so very many times?"
Although the rejected man's eyes flashed dangerously, Charles managed to keep the last vestiges of his composure and decorum. Lowering his voice once more to an appropriate level, and plastering a comically fraudulent smile on his chiseled face, the Gryffindor addressed Severus for a final time.
"Forgive me my eagerness, Severus. I can see now that you must be suffering from what my aunt once referred to as 'The Fourth Unforgivable Curse.' No wonder you are not thrilled at the concept of dancing."
Blushing profusely at the mention of a woman's monthly courses, and coloring all the more with the truthfulness of such an impolite statement, Severus stood stupidly and was powerless to deliver the tongue-lashing Charles deserved.
"I shall allow you some time so that you may find some comfort for this affliction." He allowed, speaking to her as if she were some errant child. "However, do be aware that I will not be so accommodating when next I ask you to partner me in a dance."
Somewhat recovered, yet blushing still, Severus turned her nose up at the man and awarded him her most foul sneer.
"Ask me a seventh time," She warned, "And I shall give you my answer through a wand."
Seeming to forget himself in his rage, Charles cleared the distance between them in two steps and seized one of her wrists. Severus flinched at the sudden assault, but refused to cry out, not wanting to give the boar such satisfaction. One hand free, and Charles otherwise occupied with spluttering incoherent snippets of insults and threats, Severus rooted about the hidden pocket of her gown for the wand that might help her escape this confrontation unscathed. But before her fingers could even brush against the desired object, much less retrieve it, Black was there- gently, yet firmly, extracting her wrist from his former house-mates grip.
"Mr. Montague," Black began, coolly formal, "You have forgotten your manners."
"You misread the scene." Charles defended, smiling smarmily. "I was merely impressing upon Severus that I really would enjoy her partnership in the next dance. She has refused be six times already, and I am afraid I went too far in impressing upon her my great desire."
"A gentleman must never go so far as to pressure a lady into giving an answer more favorable to them. As men we must allow a ladies 'no' to mean 'no' and her 'yes' to mean 'yes,' or else how are they ever meant to be understood?"
"Sound advice," Charles nodded, "But you must see that my frustration is not misplaced."
"I am afraid I must disagree, Mr. Montague." Black contended. "For even if Severus had wanted to give you the next dance, she could not."
"Oh?"
Severus and Montague gave the utterance at the same time, but hers was lost beneath the deeper voice of her harasser.
"Yes, for you see, Severus has promised the next dance to me."
"But this is ridiculous." Charles argued. "Were this the case, she ought to have informed me of such and saved me the vexation."
"Come now, Charles, we must not presume to scold the host's sister for our own misunderstandings."