A/N: I'm very excited for y'all to read these next two chapters...I love a ball scene.
Shoutout to my alpha readers Ruby, Juby, and Bryra, as well as my mom and my husband for all the encouragement along the way!
Massive amounts of thanks to SnakegirlSprocket for beta-ing and getting this ready for fan eyes!
And of course, if you're here, you probably know - I do not own Harry Potter, I just like to play here.
Despite some of the bravado she'd expressed in front of Draco, Hermione was anxious as soon as she put on her dress robes for the New Beginnings Gala. This would be the first time she'd attend the event not as a member of Magical Law Enforcement in the five years since its inception. Tonight, she'd simply be Hermione Granger, honored member of the Order of the Phoenix, Order of Merlin First Class, temp worker for Flourish and Blott's.
She'd finally decided on an olive dress. The fitted bodice clung nicely to her curves, while the chiffon skirt flowed down to the floor in elegant layers, matched by similarly flowing cape sleeves. She'd top it all with a golden velvet cloak. As she touched up her lipstick in the mirror for the fifth time, Crookshanks meowed at her skeptically.
"I know, Crooks. I know," she said to the too perceptive feline. "I'm just stalling at this point. It can't really be all that different can it? I'll just go and hang out with Harry and Ron and have a good time. Maybe I can even ask Snape about the wards at Hogwarts."
Seemingly pleased with this plan, Crookshanks meowed again before happily marching her towards the door. Hermione took one last wistful look at the stack of books on her coffee table she could be reading instead. With a sigh, she tightened her cloak, tucking her purse into one of the charmed pockets, and set out into the cold night.
Although the streets had cleared of snow over the past two days, Hermione was glad she'd decided to wear her boots instead of something less practical. As much as she felt pretty in her dress, the solid footwear made her feel sturdy and strong - like she was heading into a battlezone. She supposed in some regard, she was.
Passing the warm and lively restaurants on her way to the Warbly's Concert Hall, Hermione couldn't help but to feel a bit lonely. She'd tried to arrange for her friends to come over to her flat beforehand so they could open a bottle of champagne and then arrive together. However, no one had taken her up on the offer as they were already planning to come with larger contingencies. Luna and Neville would be arriving with the rest of the Order Members who still taught at Hogwarts. Harry and the Weasleys as well were all coming at once from the Burrow. They'd tried to get Hermione to join them, but she just didn't feel like bringing all of her makeup and such to the crowded house only to take a Portkey when she could just walk. And of course, some of the friends she'd made at the Aurory would be coming in a large group that included her old commanding officer. It occurred to her that she didn't have many acquaintances who were as unattached as she was.
Maybe it's all for the best. This way, I can just leave whenever I feel like it and not have to wait around for anyone else. Still, she felt a bit awkward when she approached the doors to the ballroom, noting that many of the attendees were clustered in little groups as they waited in the queue. She fiddled nervously with her velvet cloak, anxious to get inside the room even though she'd likely still not know what to do with herself then. At least there would be food and drink, though.
As she waited, she ran through some of her latest arithmantic projections. True to his word, Draco's accountant had sent the information he'd promised and suddenly, the equations were looking a lot more forgiving of the bookshop's back-tax situation. Now all she had to figure out was the larger set of enchantments to streamline the day-to-day upkeep of the store.
Hermione was so lost in thought that she didn't realize she'd made it to the front of the queue at first. An imperious looking wizard examined a floating scroll of names at the door in front of her.
"Name?" he repeated without looking at her.
"Um, yes, sorry," she said. "Hermione Granger."
He hummed in a bored tone as the scroll spun around to account for his search.
"Any plus ones?" he asked.
"No, sir," Hermione said, feeling a little twinge in her chest. She really had meant to find a date to this. But despite having so much time on her hands since she'd left the Aurory, she never felt like she had enough interest. She'd let Ginny and Luna set her up on a few dates, but they'd all felt like entirely too much work. And not in a fun research and experimentation type of way…much more boring.
"Right, this way, Miss Granger," the wizard intoned, gesturing into the room. "Have a wonderful evening."
Hermione thanked him and stepped into the massive ballroom. The entire space was decked out with silver and gold streamers and magical balloons that floated around the space without any strings. Circular tables were scattered throughout the room around a large dance floor, and a long head table was filled with hors d'oeuvres and desserts.
"'Mione!" a familiar voice called, and she turned to find Ginny, flanked by Harry and Ron at a nearby table. "Damn, that dress is beautiful. You're stunning, isn't she boys."
"Of course," Harry said, though he barely glanced away from his wife who was glowing in her own flattering gown of sparkling black fabric.
"'Mione always cleans up nice," Ron said, taking a sip of champagne as he scanned the crowd. Hermione rolled her eyes. Since their break-up several years ago, Ron had become something of a roguish rake at society events like this. She could hardly condemn the development. After all, he was a handsome, war-decorated, up-and-coming Auror in addition to being a very kind and sociable man. And especially since Harry had been taken off the market, Ron did quite well for himself at parties.
"Well, thank you Gin…and the two of you too, I suppose," she said, taking a seat. "Tried the food yet?"
"Yes, but I was just about to go over there. The baby's starving!" Ginny said, slowly pushing herself to stand with a wince. Harry awkwardly tried to help her, but his hands only appeared to hover around her, like some anxious conductor. "I'm fine Harry, Merlin!"
"Can't keep blaming the baby for you having the appetite you've always had, Gin," Ron said, waving at a few witches who were eyeing him from another table.
"You're one to talk, Ronald," Hermione said. "She's creating a magical life, what's your excuse?"
But he was already standing up, adjusting his dress robes (so much smarter than the one's he'd been forced to wear so many years before) to head over to the women.
"You're always right, 'Mione," he said distractedly.
"Prat," Ginny hissed at her brother's back. "Come on, I need more salmon toasts. Want anything, Harry?"
Harry was about to answer when several Auror's approached and struck up a conversation. Not quite ready to speak with her old office mates, Hermione grabbed Ginny's arm.
"Looks like it's just us," she said, grabbing a flute of champagne from where it floated in the air. "Let's get you those toasts, and I'll be on the lookout for something stronger than this."
"And when I came home from the antipodes– I was visiting my cousin, you know, she's studying the care of magical creatures in that region– several of our family's most prized and ancient possessions were nowhere to be found!"
Severus was nearly ten minutes deep into his conversation with Madame Grospinks and no closer to understanding the situation than he'd been with Draco's initial briefing. He shot a glare towards his godson, who'd quickly jumped over to another conversation after a quick and gushing introduction. It was then that he saw Hermione Granger, resplendent in gold and olive dress robes. She was laughing and chatting with Ginevra Weasley as they piled their plates with food. He watched as she snagged a cocktail out of the air, raising it to clink against her pregnant friend's goblet of juice. He clucked his tongue unconsciously as she immediately drained the glass before finding another one and setting off towards a table that held Potter and a gaggle of younger Aurors. Never took Granger to be much of the partying type. Gryffindors…
"I know what you're thinking: why did I even have such important things lying around the estate and not in a Gringotts vault," Madame Grospinks said, clearly having interpreted his disapproving sound as a response to her story. Severus snapped his eyes back to the woman who was the entire reason for his attendance, chastising his wandering thoughts.
"Not at all, Madam," he said smoothly. "I merely was expressing my sympathies."
"Well, truth be told, some of these belongings are not treasures I would necessarily trust the…bank with."
Severus's jaw clenched. There were so many ways he could interpret that sentiment. Would Madam Grospinks finally reveal to him the true nature of the belongings she was missing? Would she start into a racist screed against the oft-maligned Goblin bankers? Unfortunately, he did not have confidence in his chances for the conversation to take the former route.
Madam Grospinks landed somewhere in the middle as she continued.
"To be quite clear, Severus," she said in a hushed tone. "Some of the missing items were originally of Goblin make."
Her raised eyebrows completed the sentence: She didn't trust the Gringotts Goblins to not file for cultural reclamation. It wasn't unheard of by any means, but in reality, the practice was quite rare and usually required a high burden of evidence that the artifact had been procured through malevolent means, and not through legitimate trade or purchase. Even in the days when his hatred of his own muggle father had made him crave the power and approval of the wizarding world's darkest circles, he'd never quite understood the other manifestations of their purity doctrine. The wizarding world at-large had terrorized non-human magical beings for centuries, prizing (and stealing) their creations while treating them like dirt. Even to this day, when they were making significant strides against the proliferation of pureblood supremacist rhetoric, divisions between humans, goblins, giants, merfolk, elves, and all manner of intelligent magical beings were commonplace.
"Be assured, Madam Grospinks," Snape drawled, choosing his words carefully. "The Goblins are perhaps the most deserving of trust for such items. They honor those who properly purchased the creations of their ancestors. I'm sure you would be just fine."
He watched with dark glee as the woman looked away. "Yes, I suppose you're right," she said noncommittally, confirming that more likely than not, whatever these artifacts were, they'd been stolen long before they ever disappeared from Madam Grospinks collection.
"Well, if you owl me a detailed list of each item and when you first noticed it's disappearance, then I think I could be of some service." He'd already become tired of listening to the witch babble, but the distasteful reminder of how the old families deigned to operate had sapped the remainder of his decorum. "I can certainly make sure all of the items are returned to their rightful owner." Whoever that may be.
Madam Grospinks didn't catch onto the multiple interpretations of his words and beamed toothily at him. "That I can certainly do, my dear boy. If you would, I think I see my good friend, Master Byron Paddlewotch over there…I'd gladly introduce you…"
"Perhaps another time," Severus said, giving one last ditch effort into sounding pleasant. Even he wasn't convinced. "I find myself in need of refreshment. I look forward to your correspondence, Madam."
With a slight bow, he briskly made a path towards where Draco stood with a group of older ministry officials by a window. They were chortling heartily at something Draco had just said when he approached.
"Ah, gentlemen," Draco said, having noticed his godfather's proximity. "You all know Severus Snape, don't you?"
Severus grimaced at Draco before attempting a slightly less fraught expression at the wizards who sounded to be somewhat in awe of his public appearance. Before he could pull his godson aside to tell him he had completed his business and would be leaving, he felt someone scrabbling at his hand.
"Oh, Severus! It's been an age since I've seen you," said an elderly wizard he quickly recognized as Ongo Botkin. The man shook him enthusiastically.
Draco beamed. "I finally got him to grace us all with his presence
"I've been meaning to congratulate you on your patent for that improved Wolfsbane. Quite the feat!"
"Thank you," Severus said cautiously as the other wizards cooed. Unfortunately, they seemed to take that as their cue to barrage him with all sorts of questions. While Madam Grospinks meandering focus had annoyed him, he was fully unprepared to suddenly be the center of so much focused attention. He shot a glare at Draco, who simply smiled and handed him a flute of champagne.
"Looks like your new drinking buddy is the life of the party, 'Mione."
"Who?" Hermione glanced up over the piece of cheesecake she was picking at to see where Ginny indicated. There was a small crowd of wizards gathered by the window. At first she thought they were listening intently to Draco, but then realized their wrapt focus was actually directed to the velvet and silk clad wizard beside him. It took her another moment to realize that she was looking at Severus Snape.
"Merlin's beard," she whispered in shock. He'd styled his dark hair so that the top half was pulled back, revealing much more of his face than usual. He'd dispensed with his customary black frock coat for a well-shaped robe and matching waistcoat of deep blue velvet. Beneath, he wore a charcoal silk shirt, unadorned with a band collar that's simplicity lent the ensemble an air of elegance. Speaking quietly in the middle of the small crowd, he was a striking figure.
"I don't think I've ever seen him in anything other than black," Ginny remarked. Hermione shut her mouth which had fallen open slightly with her surprise, thanking her lucky stars that Ginny had seemingly not noticed her reaction. "Granted, I've not really seen much of him at all lately."
Hermione took a sip of her drink and dragged her attention back to her cheesecake. "The times I've seen him, he still wears mostly black."
"This is certainly an improvement," Ginny chuckled. "He only looks half like a vengeful spirit now."
Hermione had to admit it was true. Even though she'd noticed his improved complexion and general wellbeing in their recent run-ins, she realized now that his hair often acted as a partial veil of his face, shadowing it away from sight. The transformation it made was unexpected to say the least. She wondered if the drink was starting to get to her and pulled a goblet of pumpkin juice towards her.
"And this is my lovely wife, Ginevra," Harry said to an elderly witch he was leading over to them.
"Mathilde Opalti. It's my pleasure, Madam Potter," the woman said in a tiny squeak of a voice. Hermione was only barely successful in holding back a snicker at both the woman and Harry's formal address of Ginny. Even after a year, it still wasn't something she'd quite gotten used to. "Congratulations on your coming baby! What a lovely thing."
"And this is Hermione Granger," Harry said. "Madam Opalti's son is a clerk for the Wizengamot."
"Pleasure to meet you," Hermione said, grasping the woman's bony hand.
"Oh my, I know you!" The woman squinted at her. "You're the girl who won that lawsuit against the Prophet."
Hermione regretted having traded her stiff drink for pumpkin juice. "Yes, unfortunately, that was me."
"Unfortunately?" Madam Opalti asked in bemusement. "About time someone stood up to that rag, if you ask me! Good on you, girl."
They all laughed, and Hermione found that she quite liked the woman. At least until her next words.
"Now, where did Harvey get off too," she said, squinting around the ballroom. "He could use a strong woman like you in his life."
Hermione was about to politely divert the woman when their table was suddenly approached by several wizards she recognized from around the Aurory. Her stomach dropped. Well, I've avoided it this long, I suppose now's the time to face them. She'd had little contact with anyone besides Harry, Ron, and a few scant friends (who she hadn't yet seen arrive) from her old workplace. There were sure to be questions about her sudden departure and what she was doing now.
"Granger," Killian Baxtley, a man she'd found particularly troublesome for his knack for unwarranted searches and seizures, stepped forward. His eyebrows quirked and a cocky smile twisted his lips. "If you're letting Opalti's mother sign your dance card, I think it's about time I throw my hat into the ring. Shall we?"
Hermione stared open-mouthed at his outstretched hand. Before she could respond, another ex-co-worker stepped forward.
"I'd like your hand for the next round," Chester Shubbs announced, tightening a hideous puce tie around his neck. She recalled how he'd regularly rolled his eyes at her meticulous incident reports during staff meetings.
"Don't crowd her, lads," Gerald Fulmic said, his face as red as when he'd been unable to disarm Hermione during combat training. "But while we're at it, I'd like a go as well."
"Damn, Hermione," Ginny whispered so only she could hear. "Who are you, Ron?"
Her gaze flicked in between the three Aurors before she burst out laughing.
"What are you lot playing at?" she asked, hoping it was just some sort of joke. She'd rather have a friendly duel with any of them than consider dancing. "You can't be serious."
She watched as the swagger from their expressions hardened slightly. Baxtley, ever-confident, was the first to answer.
"Well, now that you're not an Auror, I bet you have loads of time on your hands," he said. "Can you blame any of us for wanting to make an honest woman of you?"
Hermione was about to snap back at the offensive joke. But then she noticed the honest desire in each of the men's eyes as they sized her up in her fine robes. With horror, she realized they weren't joking at all. For a second, she felt as if she were standing outside the situation, looking in and seeing it for what it was. As a coworker, she'd been a busybody, a nuisance, a threat. Now, a civilian, de-fanged of her official power and compartmentalized away, they could project whatever they wanted onto her: a young single witch in need of structure they could provide.
Bile threatened at the back of her throat as she realized how futile her attempts to incrementally reform the nature of MLE had been. The sound of footsteps approaching the group stirred her out of her momentary spiral.
"Boys," Ron said, pulling Baxtley backwards. "Laying it on too thick. Sorry, Hermione, I told them not to come over all at once when they asked if you might consider a dance."
She wrapped her occlumency around her, feeling the tips of her fingers go numb with how abrupt the shift had been to keep her from hexing Ron and the merry band of idiot suitors on the spot. As she felt her expression smooth into something blank and unreadable, she looked at each man in turn. None of them had any skill in Legilimency to speak of, so she had no problem looking them in the eyes…and that gave her a tiny spark of spiteful pleasure. She used it to inspire a polite but empty smile.
"My apologies," she said. "No dancing for me. I'm afraid I've just recalled some urgent business to which I must attend."
Without another word, Hermione slipped out of her seat and marched away, ignoring the bustle of conversation behind her.
"Well, what do you have in the works next, Severus?" Wencelas Lory asked. Snape had been fielding questions about his articles and experiments for the last several minutes and running out of steam. He'd intended to excuse himself several times, but Draco had repeatedly pinned him with a look that said that would be a fatal move for the sake of his future business.
"I have several other potions I am developing," he said with a vague shrug. "I'm particularly interested in how genetic materials may be identified through potioneering." He knew that would likely be enough information to inspire another slew of questions. By this point, he was nearly ready to admit that he'd much prefer Granger's company as Draco had originally proposed to this onslaught of well-meaning questions. He glanced back over to where he'd last seen her, surrounded by friends from the Aurory, taking note that she was no longer present.
In fact, she was making a beeline directly towards him, her face pleasant as she wove her way through the crowd gracefully. For one wild second, he idly wondered if she'd heard his thoughts. Then he came back to reality and scowled. What could she possibly want? In the background, he could hear Draco stepping smoothly over his sudden distraction.
"Master Snape here is actually setting out on a new investigative venture. A small intelligence agency to look into matters that need not concern the Aurory."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," Severus answered. "If there are any small mysteries or strange happenings that occur to you that don't appear to necessitate MLE, please do not hesitate to reach out. Miss Granger," he intoned without looking at her. "Have you enjoyed a thrilling reunion with your old coworkers this evening?"
The wizards turned to look at the young witch, some of them bowing slightly in greeting.
"Oh, surely," she said, her voice cool and professional. "I wondered, however, if I could have a word, Professor."
He lets his gaze glide back to her slowly, annoyed by her use of the outdated title. She looked pleasant enough, her face blandly kind as she smiled at the little crowd. When her eyes met his, he realized with a jolt that she was fully occluding. Her brown eyes held none of their typical warmth, but instead seemed to blaze with ice. He could feel a slight draft from the magic she was putting off.
Without a second thought, Severus gave a deferential nod before turning to his inquisitors.
"Gentlemen."
He turned and began to stalk towards the long table that held all manner of food. The only way he knew that Granger was following him was the icy radiation he could feel even through the layers of his clothes. Wordlessly, he began to place sweets on a plate.
After several moments passed in silence with Granger hardly moving, he spoke.
"If I remember correctly, Granger, Draco had hoped you might make me seem like less of a dementor. At the moment, however, I could hardly blame anyone for using their patronus against you."
He sensed her relax as she sighed out a breath. The cold however, didn't abate.
"Is that your way of telling me to smile, Snape?" she asked, her voice still that pleasant and yet oddly removed timbre. "Because I think I've already had enough roundabout misogyny this evening, thank you."
"Hardly," he chuckled. His eyes darted to the table she'd been at, wondering who had inspired such a deadly calm in her. "I simply think it will be more believable that you actually had a question for me if you talk instead of lurk. Or at least, while you lurk."
He straightened and turned to face her, pressing the plate of desserts into her hands. For a brief moment, he watched her shields drop. Her face was stricken, frozen somewhere between nausea and existential pain. Then her occlusion came back with a vengeance, her teeth chattering slightly as her eyes shuttered against him. In that tiny reveal, the only thing he'd been able to catch of her emotions was a deep and vast self-loathing. The feeling was quite familiar to him, but hardly seemed appropriate for the likes of Granger.
"Eat something," he instructed on a low breath. "You'll need to ease out of that occlusion slowly. Sweets will help."
"Thank you," she said, following his instructions and selecting a chocolate from the plate. Two witches came up beside them to ogle the refreshments.
"As you do that, I suppose I will talk, so that no one comes over here thinking to interrupt us," he said, gesturing for her to walk alongside him to get away from potentially listening ears.
They stepped towards the doors of the balcony, and he continued to speak quietly to her as she popped another sweet into her mouth.
"Now, I have no idea what has triggered this in you," he said. "And I certainly do not know why you thought it prudent to come to me rather than one of your friends. But I can imagine that it has something to do with my power as a Legilimens. Is that correct?"
Granger nodded.
"Are you stuck?"
"I'm…not sure," she replied blandly. "But I fear if I drop my Occlusion, I won't make it through the rest of the night. I have to stay at least until the speech."
Just then, Draco stood tall on the platform stage and began his address to the crowd. Thankfully, it was not too long, since Severus was hardly listening to any of the words very closely. Instead, he was monitoring the slow rise of the temperature that surrounded Hermione Granger.
"Finally, I hope that you enjoy this evening of friendship and fellowship as we start a new year. Let us continue down the bright path of the progressive future." There was a burst of applause and Draco nodded warmly at the crowd. "Without further ado, we'll now open up the dance floor."
Severus turned to Granger again, hoping she'd take the opportunity to leave. However, he watched her eyes flash to where a gaggle of young wizards approached them and then back to his. Once again, panic and disgust raged on her face.
"Dance with me, please!" she said, her voice full of desperation.
Before a second thought, he clasped her arm and found himself guiding her out onto the dance floor. He caught sight of the posse of Aurors looking very confused.
As the band started up a brisk waltz, he looked down his nose at her.
"You are going to tell me what is going on. Now."