Caramel Macchiatos for my betas (whether they can pronounce “macchiato” or not), Keladry Lupin & LariLee, as well as belated birthday chocolate for MagicAlly, who strives to teach me to speak Brit.
These characters and this entire Potterverse are the property of the incomparable JKR.
Chapter 11
Thou are not lovelier than lilacs, -- no,
Nor honeysuckle; thou are not more fair
Than small white single poppies, -- I can bear
Thy beauty; though I bend before thee, though
From left to right, not knowing where to go,
I turn my troubled eyes, nor here nor there
Find any refuge from thee, yet I swear
So has it been with mist, -- with moonlight so.
Like him who day by day unto his draught
Of delicate poison adds him one drop more
Till he may drink unharmed the death of ten
Even so, inured to beauty, who have quaffed
Each hour more deeply than the hour before,
I drink “ and live “ what has destroyed some men.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Draco sat in his father’s library and admired the machine on the table before him. Once again, he depressed the red button protruding from the hard black plastic case and music filled the room.
Seamus Finnegan poked his best mate, Dean Thomas, in the shoulder. “Why didn’t you bring this to school? We could have had it in the dormitory. It would have been brilliant.”
"Brilliant," Neville Longbottom echoed.
Dean snorted. “Electronics don’t work at Hogwarts, mate. Dumbledore’s wards are too strong.”
Draco’s attention was drawn as Dean produced a silver disc, which appeared to have handwritten words scrawled over its surface. “How did you write on that with a quill?” Draco asked curiously.
“Oh, you can’t write on them with a quill, mate, you have to use a permanent marker.” Dean pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to Draco. “This pen will write on any solid surface and the ink is permanent “ don’t use it unless you want the marks to stay there forever.”
Draco popped the cap off the pen and made a squiggle mark on the corner of an old issue of the Daily Prophet. “The ink is just inside of it and you don’t have to use an ink bottle,” he mused. “Some Muggle things are quite interesting.”
Dean waved a hand at him. “Keep it; I’ve got others.” He pulled a paper from his pocket and handed it to Draco. “All of the songs on the disc have a reference to magic, except for that one you asked me to find for you. It’s the last one on there.”
A wicked smile played over Draco’s lips. “You’ll be here tonight, for the ball?” he asked.
Dean rolled his eyes. “You know girls “ Lavender has been doing nothing but talk about this party for a week. She’s with Parvati and Padma for the rest of the day, doing their hair and all that.”
Seamus nodded. “We have the girls from Grimmauld Place staying here and we haven’t seen them since breakfast. It takes them all day to do what they do to get ready for a party.”
Dean regarded his best mate with slight superiority. “Just wait until you’re engaged to one. You spend half your life waiting for them to be ready to leave the house.” He spoke in a high-pitched, girlish voice. “I’ll be ready in two shakes, darling. I just have to shower, fix my hair, do my makeup, and change clothes four times…”
Neville laughed, Seamus snorted and Draco’s lips quirked upwards. Dean leaned back in his chair, like a man whose work is done. “When are you layabouts going to get off your arses and pick a girl?”
The smirks were instantly wiped off the faces of his auditors. Dean poked Seamus in the side with his elbow. “I thought you were on pretty good terms with Luna, mate.”
“No, Malfoy has Luna wrapped around his finger,” a voice proclaimed from the doorway.
All four of the boys at the table turned their heads to see Harry and Ron enter the room. Dean’s face was wreathed in smiles as he stood to punch Ron on the shoulder and shake Harry’s hand.
“Yeah, poor Seamus mucked up his chance with Luna “ silly sod doesn’t know better than to let Malfoy steal a march on him,” Ron chortled.
Draco stayed in his seat, his lips pressed in a tight line, refusing to rise to the baiting of Potter and Weasley.
Harry took the chair directly opposite Draco’s and surveyed him with cool green eyes. “Luna is a particular friend of mine,” he said quietly.
Seamus and Dean looked with some alarm over Harry’s head at Ron; Ron just gave a shake of his head and shrugged.
Draco returned Potter’s stare, unruffled and courteous; he did not speak.
“I would be very angry if anyone were to trifle with Luna’s feelings,” Harry commented reflectively.
“Are you asking a question or making an accusation, Potter?” Draco inquired.
Harry did not back down. “Take it however you want, Malfoy,” he replied, his meaning clear.
“If Professor Snape or Mr. Lovegood wish to ask what my intentions are, they can. I don’t answer to you.”
Harry stood from his place at the table. “You will if Luna comes to any harm,” he stated, then turned and walked out of the room with Ron in his wake.
Seamus and Dean looked nervously over at Draco, who met their glances with a self-deprecating smile. “Was it something I said?” he murmured. He was pleased with the relieved chuckles from his companions.
At least some of his Order comrades didn’t hate his guts.
Lucius sat beside Sophronia on the marble bench beneath the oak tree at the edge of the rose garden and watched the youngest Snape child as she frolicked on the lawn with her pygmy puff. Though he thought “Stormy” was a ridiculous name for a child, the girl herself was not objectionable. He would certainly take a firm line with Sophronia when it came time to name their children! No, Stormy would be as pretty as her older sisters when she grew up; aside from a lamentable dependence upon the company of her mama, she was a nice child. She would undoubtedly enjoy the Wizarding preparatory academy Lucius had found for her in Wales. The school took children from ages seven to ten and prepared them for Hogwarts. It was a boarding school, and frightfully expensive “ surely that would make it acceptable to Sophronia? And then he would have Sophronia all to himself, her undivided attention for him alone. Soon, she would be breeding with their own baby, and a Malfoy infant would give her thoughts the proper direction, toward their family, and away from the Snape children.
She could then devote the rest of her pampered life to being the mother of his children and the delight of his heart. What more could a woman want, really?
It had not been easy to rid himself of Alverard, MacNair, and Mulciber after their meeting in the garden. Alverard, naturally, was the spokesman, demanding information regarding the movements of Severus Snape. Lucius had a shrewd notion of why Alverard was so interested in Severus, but he had maintained an air of aggrieved ignorance, explaining that he scarcely ever saw Snape. Alverard had interrogated him for over two hours, ever returning to the subject of Severus and hammering away for information. With his Occlumency shields firmly in place, Lucius had denied any pertinent knowledge and desperately tried to think of a plan to send the hooligans away. Without a doubt, it would be necessary to set the Aurors onto their trail, but first he had to get them away from his home. Nothing could be permitted to mar his plans for this weekend.
In the end, of course, gold had been the answer. His offer of a draft on his account at Gringotts had been scorned; did Lucius believe a fugitive Death Eater could walk in and cash a cheque? He had been forced to allow Alverard into his underground vault, where the Death Eater had filled a bag with the available gold and then demanded to be given the four-carat sapphire Lucius had meant for Sophronia’s engagement ring. Ultimately, it was his willingness to relinquish the jewel that had relieved him of the presence of the unsavoury criminals.
Would he ever stop paying the price for the plans his father had made for him to succeed in the world?
Sophronia stole a look at the austere profile of the man who sat beside her. His pale pointed face and white-blonde hair enhanced his beauty; in repose, his cold grey eyes detracted from his appearance, but when he smiled or laughed at her, they warmed to such a degree that it made her a bit breathless. Indeed, Lucius and his physical attractiveness moved her in ways that her husband had never done. It strongly reminded her of how the dark-haired boy of her youth had made her feel. The emotion was not as strong or overwhelming as what she had felt then, but she reasoned that she was older now and less susceptible to such forces in her life. No, she was beginning to be convinced that, if marry she must, Lucius was the best alternative for her. His home was luxurious, his fortune large, she was attracted to him, and he was kind to her children. She knew he meant to ask her to marry him; she was virtually certain that her answer would be “yes” “ her only caveat was that her own marriage must await the settlement of Skye’s affairs, and Skye did not seem to be any closer to settling on one young man now than she had been when they first arrived in London.
Sophronia had thought for a while that Skye might be in love with Harry Potter, in spite of Severus’ frequently voiced objections; then she had thought that Viktor Krum had captured her daughter’s uncooperative heart. Now, she wasn’t at all sure that either of them had really engaged Skye’s emotions deeply.
Sophronia remembered quite well that, in her thirties, she had grown to believe that she, herself, had a rather cold nature. She had been a dutiful wife to Mr. Snape, and in time she had developed affection for him. He was certainly kind to her, and she believed that he loved her; she simply found herself unable to return his love, and decided that she must be one of those women she had heard of who did not care for the physical act of love.
But what about that summer in London? her traitorous brain goaded. What about how he made you feel?
Sophronia shook her head to clear it of random reminiscences and placed a gentle hand on Lucius’ arm. “I believe I will take Stormy inside now,” she said. “It’s time to begin preparing myself for the ball, and the girls will need my assistance, I am sure.”
Lucius took the small hand on his sleeve and raised it to his handsomely chiselled lips. “If you must, my dear,” he murmured, gazing into her eyes with a wicked gleam. “I have no doubt that the results will be more than worth the loss of your company “ but only just.”
Sophronia laughed softly as she removed her hand from his and stood. “Come, Stormy,” she called, and began to head back to the house.
Lucius watched her go with a possessive appreciation for her air of grace and breeding.
She would make the very finest lady of the Manor.
The ballroom at Malfoy Manor had been added in the last century, when such entertainments as formal balls were more common. The number of times the room had been used for dancing in the last fifty years was negligible. On this occasion, it was magnificent. Lucius had caused the ceiling and walls of the enormous room to be hung in a silvery blue silk, giving the impression of being inside an enormous tent. At intervals about the room stood marble pillars, half as tall as a man, bearing great silver bowls of roses in white and the palest pink, interspersed with baby’s breath. At one end of the room was the dais for the orchestra; at the other were the row of French doors, opening out onto the terrace with steps down into the rose garden.
Severus Snape stood beside his old friend on the terrace and glared into the inviting, secluded grottos formed by the tastefully laid out rose garden.
“You just had to open the doors into the garden,” he grumped.
Lucius regarded him with amusement. “Of what possible interest is that to you, Severus? Surely that ravishing young fiancée of yours does not reduce you to consorting in the bushes.”
Snape turned his baleful glare from the rosebushes to his host. “Do you have any idea how I spend my time at these affairs at Hogwarts? I spend it blasting the wretched student body out of the bloody rose garden! They perceive it as a safe haven for behaviour more fitted to a brothel!”
Lucius broke out into a shout of laughter quite unlike his usual lazy chuckles “ he was indeed in high spirits. “By Merlin, old boy, I’ve never seen a fellow in more need of a bit of clandestine romance! Forget policing these children! We want them to pair off now, remember? What difference does it make if one or more of them go to be bound with a baby in their bellies? Surely the making of wizard babies is the whole bloody point, anymore?”
Snape’s lips thinned. “I will not have the young women under my care used in such a fashion by a ragtag bunch of dunderheaded louts! I pledged to keep these children chaste and I mean to do so. Dear God, Lucius, is it not bad enough that we force them to marry, without also tempting them to make their choices based upon an episode of rampant hormonal groping in the bushes? Put lights in that garden if you do not wish for me to spend the evening decimating your roses and emasculating your guests.”
Thus, Snape got his way, and Lucius instructed the house-elves to place decorative lanterns at strategic intervals throughout the garden.
Minerva McGonagall made the rounds of the girls’ rooms, ascertaining those who might be in need of her assistance, whether in dressing for the ball, or calming over-excited nerves.
In the room shared by Ginevra Weasley and Luna Lovegood, the air was fraught with tension. Miss Weasley stood before the looking glass, dispassionately appraising herself in the emerald green gown she wore.
“It just matches his eyes,” she murmured.
“Whose eyes, Miss Weasley?”
Ginny turned in surprise when she heard the Scottish burr. She debated for a moment, then answered honestly, “Harry’s eyes, ma’am.”
McGonagall pursed her lips. “You know that Mr. Potter is bound to marry by the New Year, and that your mother intends for you to finish school before you marry?”
“How hard would you be willing to fight for your life’s happiness, Professor? Whose feelings would you not disregard if they stood in the way of your happiness?” The youngest Weasley spoke with a dead serious resolution that was not to be discounted.
Luna Lovegood entered the room from the attached bath, hearing only the last of Ginny’s words. “Ginny has been telling me that now is not the time to be shy about what we want, ma’am,” Luna said, sounding as if she could scarcely credit her own daring. “If ever there was a time to stand up and say what you mean, now is it.”
McGonagall turned her stern gaze to Luna. “What do you mean to say, Miss Lovegood?”
Luna took a deep breath before she spoke; still, her voice was so soft that it was necessary to strain to hear her. “I mean to say that I love Draco Malfoy and it makes me proud.”
McGonagall experienced an inner qualm as she considered Lucius Malfoy’s response to the prospect of Luna Lovegood as a daughter-in-law. She allowed nothing of her reaction to show on her face; she simply nodded her head. “You have every reason to be proud,” she said. “Now, please hurry, girls; we are expected downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
And with that she left the room.
Hermione slipped the dark coral faerie silk gown over her head and turned her back so that Alicia Spinnet could fasten up the back.
“Oh, no,” Hermione breathed, staring into the mirror.
Tonks peeked around from behind her. “What is it?”
Hermione stood straighter and tugged at the back of the bodice as if to pull it down in the back and up in the front. “It’s the neckline. Sophronia had to let out the bodice just a bit “ and the neckline has dropped almost an inch.”
Alicia turned Hermione so that she and Tonks could look her over. “It is a little bit on the daring side,” Alicia agreed judiciously, staring at Hermione’s chest.
Tonks snorted. "Loads of witches would kill to fill out a dress that way. What are you complaining about?"
Hermione took a deep breath and turned once again to survey herself. “Nothing can be done about it now. I don’t dare try to charm an alteration “ it might damage the fabric.”
Tonks patted her on the shoulder. “Face it, Hermione. You’re just going to have to keep your shoulders back and hold your head high. Look as if you meant to show that much cleavage.”
Ginny slipped into the room in time to hear Tonks’ last comment. “I don’t think anyone will think twice about the neckline, Hermione. They will be noticing the faerie silk gown.” Ginny pushed Hermione toward the dressing table. “Hurry up! You haven’t even done your hair yet!”
Hermione sat down. “Alicia is going to do it for me “ my hands are a bit shaky tonight.”
Tonks cast her a sidelong look. “I wonder why?” she said snidely.
Hermione smiled, but did not answer aloud.
Not for the reason you imagine, she thought to herself.
Stormy bounced excitedly about the large room given over to Sophronia’s use, exclaiming over the beauty of her mother and sisters.
“Mama, your dress matches your room,” she said, for the fifth time.
Sophronia, who was in the act of pinning Shadow’s hair into a very grown-up style, smiled at her youngest child. “You are right about that, my love. Do sit down, now.”
Shadow looked at her image in the dressing table mirror. “Thank you, Mum “ it looks so pretty.”
Skye came up and bent to look in the mirror at her sister’s reflection. “You’ll be the belle of the ball, Shay,” she said sweetly.
Shadow stood and swirled over to the full-length mirror, admiring her very first ball gown. It was of pale yellow satin, with the demure neckline appropriate for a girl her age.
“What is Severus going to say?” she wondered out loud.
“He will say nothing about it. I have already spoken to him,” Sophronia assured her. “If this were a public ball, you would not be attending, but as it is a ball held in a private home, there can be no objection.” Sophronia stood and walked over to Shadow. “Do you remember the rules I have set for you?”
Shadow spoke in the tone of one who has memorized her lesson. “Do not dance more than two times with anyone, do not leave the ballroom to go outside with anyone, do not laugh or talk too loudly, remember that I am a lady and behave like one.”
Sophronia nodded her approval and turned to take Stormy by the hand. Behind her mother’s back, Shadow rolled her eyes at Skye, who smiled and came up to kiss her cheek. “I had to follow the same rules at my first grown-up party,” she assured her sister as they followed their mother from the room.
“I will just take Stormy up to Winky now,” Sophronia said to her older daughters, beginning to climb to the next level in the Malfoy house. “Why don’t you go see if the other girls need your help? I will meet you downstairs.”
The Snape sisters entered Hermione and Alicia’s room just as Tonks slumped disconsolately into a squishy armchair.
Skye reached out maternal hands. “Tonks! You’ll crease your gown!” she cautioned.
Tonks gave a little shrug and made a face. She had no great expectations for the ball, really. The man who had wanted her now wanted Hermione; the other two men who had flirted with her were now flirting with other women. She could not bring to mind the name of one wizard of her acquaintance in whom she had the least interest … except for Remus Lupin, of course.
She really was destined for the Office of Last Resort.
Alicia stepped back from Hermione and considered the arrangement of Hermione’s curls. “Do you like it?” she asked for the third time that evening.
Hermione surveyed the results of Alicia’s deft fingers. “Yes, thank you,” she said.
Alicia sighed with relief that she had finally achieved a result with those dark corkscrew curls that Hermione approved.
“Thank Nimue for that,” Ginny muttered, turning in a tight circle to give each of her friends one last visual check before going downstairs to the men. “I think we’re all finally ready.”
Hermione stood from the dressing table and gave her companions a happy smile. “I have a good feeling about tonight. Let’s go break some hearts,” she said, and headed for the door.
The young men of the Order milled about in the Entrance Hall at Malfoy Manor, waiting for their female counterparts to descend from the regions above. The girls had disappeared right after lunch and had not been seen or heard from in hours. What did they do up there?
Time was passing, the summer was marching toward the autumn, and the New Year was fast approaching. They would all be married within six months and it was time to become serious about looking for a partner. Each of the young men felt the excitement surrounding this party. Obviously it was special “ just look at the way the girls were acting.
It was a common occurrence to walk into a room at Phoenix House and to find one of their friends pacing and trying to memorize something clever to say at the next party. There was not a one amongst them who had not practiced a speech or two before the mirror, in hopes of finding favour with one of the young women.
What can I say to make her notice me? was a frequent train of thought, as well as, What can I do to impress her, to make her want me?
There was a slight stir as someone appeared on the half landing and began a descent down the grand staircase. Seeing that it was only Sophronia Snape, however, the boys went back to their various thoughts and conversations.
Sophronia noted, with an inward smile, how very grown-up the young men looked in their dress robes. Even Severus was looking distinguished, if no less forbidding than usual. Her eyes fell then upon Lucius Malfoy, who was engaging Severus in low-voiced conversation. When Lucius looked up and met her gaze, that irresistible gleam lit his eyes and he came forward to stand at the foot of the staircase. As she completed her descent, he placed his right hand over his heart and executed a profound bow with a majestic flourish.
Sophronia’s answering curtsey was a thing of beauty; even the Quidditch talk amongst the boys was halted at this arcane demonstration of the manners of a forgotten time.
The smattering of applause from above caused all eyes to travel back up to the landing, where the young ladies were grouped. From the young wizards of the Order, there was a collective intake of breath.
For indeed, the young witches were breathtaking. Here then, was the evidence of what they had been doing all day “ making themselves so heartbreakingly beautiful that the men could do nothing but gaze upward in admiration. For that moment, the enchanting young women were the dazzling stars hovering just beyond the reach of the wizards at their feet. Now the young men knew the purpose of this night “ to win the attention, the regard, perhaps even the love of the girl of their dreams.
Standing in the shadows of the corridor beside the first floor landing, Minerva McGonagall watched her charges. Each of these girls, though they did not know it, would be the most beautiful woman in the room to one of the men present tonight. How many of them would become aware of the man who admired them the most?
For a moment in time, the hall was silent as the young women stood in the spotlight of the appreciation of the men of the Order. Then McGonagall came from behind them, quietly scolding.
“The guests will be arriving at any time, girls, please do not dawdle!”
The spell was broken and the girls were herded down the steps and into the midst of the young men; almost immediately, the bell chimed and house-elves moved forward to answer the door, while Lucius and Draco took their places at the ballroom doorway to welcome their guests.
Fleur Delacour had not accompanied the women of Grimmauld Place to Wiltshire on Friday afternoon; in accordance with her mother’s wishes, she had arrived at Malfoy Manor on Saturday, in the escort of her brother.
Val Delacour had glowered defiantly at Snape and crossed his arms protectively over his chest when invited to the shrubbery and forced to explain his unlooked-for presence. “My mother insisted I bring Fleur to this party,” he defended himself petulantly.
“Give me no reason to notice your existence,” Snape had advised contemptuously before walking away.
Now, Fleur descended the staircase on her brother’s arm, eagerly looking about for her fiancé. She caused no small stir as she made her way through arriving guests in the Entrance Hall, then on into the ballroom, where the people mingled and chatted in small groups, waiting for the dancing to begin. She wore a gown that moulded her form exactly, from her armpits to her ankles, showcasing the perfection of her figure; a slit up the back reached almost to the level of her knees. The hue of the gown was such that she seemed to be covered by a thin coating of ice. The only colour in her ensemble appeared on her ears, at her throat, and on the third finger of her left hand “ the emeralds Snape had given her as an engagement gift.
Val Delacour delivered his sister into Snape's general sphere, then disentangled himself and fled the vicinity.
Hermione, spotting Fleur from across the room, narrowed her eyes and admitted to herself that open warfare had now been declared; subtlety was out the window. She looked ruefully down at the delicate stuff of the faerie silk gown, and mourned; it seemed somehow unspeakable to her that the magic of this beautiful dress should be put in the shade by the nearly-naked veela-girl, whose effrontery apparently knew no bounds.
Snape saw Fleur’s entrance with tight-lipped wrath. Where was the well-behaved witch from the respected family to whom he had offered his name? What did she mean by daring to appear in public in such indecent apparel?
Sophronia, who was moving through the room keeping a watchful eye on the young women in her charge, was dismayed at the sight of Fleur’s dress. When she saw the expression on Severus’ face, a look she had known and dreaded in his father, she advanced quickly to Fleur’s side, and reached her just as Severus did.
“Good evening, Fleur,” she said in her soft voice. “How very lovely you look.”
“Thank you, Sophronia,” Fleur said, looking down at her body in the dress. As she did, Sophronia looked directly into Severus’ eyes. She saw the cold anger there and she bravely held his gaze until he appeared to recollect his surroundings. When she saw the impassive mask drop again over his features, she directed her gaze back to Fleur, who had been entirely oblivious to the interplay taking place over her head. Satisfied that she might safely leave the matter in her stepson’s hands, Sophronia excused herself and moved on to speak to someone else.
Fleur tucked her arm through that of her fiancé, smiling up at him in a dazzling way. With faultless courtesy, Snape replied to her greeting, far too proud to let it be seen by prying eyes that he had any misgivings as to her appearance. There would be plenty of time, when they had an opportunity to speak in private, to explain to her precisely what his thoughts were on the subject.
Hermione tore her gaze away from the drama she had just witnessed; when Snape had seen Fleur, and Sophronia had interceded to keep the peace, she had been forced to bite her tongue to keep from giving vent to the bubble of laughter that rose to her lips. Perhaps veela-magic was not strictly to the professor’s taste, after all. Cheered, she turned once again to the conversation of her friends.
Lavender Brown, wrapped happily around her husband-to-be, asked, “Who are you dancing the first dance with, Hermione?”
“I’m promised to Remus, but I don’t see him,” she said, looking about the room, which was becoming more crowded by the moment.
“Isn’t he staying here?” Dean asked, holding Lavender proudly to his side with a possessive arm.
“No, the boys are sleeping here, but Remus and Sirius are just coming for the party,” Ginny answered, staring unhappily across the room at Harry and Skye, who were chatting animatedly with Tonks and Viktor Krum.
Seamus came up and spoke quietly to Ginny. “Ready? The orchestra is about to begin.”
Ginny turned to her partner for the first dance and gave him a glittering smile. “Yes, I’m ready.”
Hermione saw Percy Weasley watching her suspiciously and she began to walk along the edge of the room, away from him.
Harry stood with Skye as they chatted with their friends, but he found it difficult to keep his eyes away from Ginny, who seemed to be burning with an inner flame tonight that cast every other girl in the room into the shade. He was careful not to ignore Skye, and tried his best not to glare at Seamus “ if he was not dancing with the girl of his choice for this opening dance, he had no one but himself to blame, after all.
He was distracted from his thoughts as Neville and Luna wandered over to join them, followed by Ron and Shadow. After a moment, Skye turned to Ron and said, “Who is that man who just came in?”
Ron glanced over and replied, “That’s my oldest brother, Bill. He’s a curse-breaker.”
Bill was standing near the entrance, greeting his twin brothers and their twin fiancées. His hair was tied back in a queue and he wore his black dress robes with casual ease; apparently, the formality of the occasion did not require that he leave off his golden fang earring. He was a sight to gladden the hearts of young women, a deed which he was apparently accomplishing without effort, judging from the looks he was receiving.
“Wasn’t he engaged to Fleur?” Skye said.
“Not engaged, but they were going out,” Ron told her.
Skye turned to exchange a glance with her sister. “She gave him up for Severus?” she whispered.
Shadow grinned. “But he isn’t famous, Skye.”
Skye frowned and Shadow giggled.
“Famous?” Harry said, obviously confused.
“Never mind,” Skye answered, continuing to watch Bill Weasley from across the room.
Snape stood dutifully with Fleur as she chattered about the party and their fellow guests. Nearby, Lucius and his son were engaged in a staring contest. Standing to Draco’s left and impervious to his coldness, was Pansy Parkinson, the girl whom Lucius had long ago chosen to be his daughter-in-law. Draco had obediently paid court to her until the time when he had chosen to turn his back on his father’s dictums and had joined in the efforts of the Order of the Phoenix.
Snape had been enjoying a glass of port in Lucius’ library the evening before when Draco had been summoned and instructed to dance the first dance of the ball with Pansy. The battle of wills had been fierce and unpleasant. Only Snape’s intervention had prevented Draco from departing the parental home in high dudgeon. Snape took the boy by the elbow and constrained him to leave the library and stroll about the garden with him. Did Draco wish to leave Miss Lovegood alone at Malfoy Manor for the remainder of the weekend at his father’s not-so-tender mercies? Draco had submitted with ill grace and Snape had returned to the library for another glass of port. The headache which had descended upon him during the Malfoy battle had made him even more vicious than usual in trouncing Lucius at chess.
Draco looked disdainfully away from his father, and searched until he saw Luna, chatting with Neville, who was now to dance the first dance as her partner. Luna’s pink satin ball gown was surprisingly conventional, though her hairdo was a bit quirky, the mountains of dark blonde hair wound higher and higher upon her head, like a bees’ hive. The curling wisps of hair that graced her nape emphasized the delicate beauty of her neck, so often obscured by her long, untidy hair and the absurd necklaces she chose to wear. He noticed that her throat was bare tonight, and that her only adornment was a pair of earrings, each comprised of a single dangling strand of gold with one teardrop pink topaz at the end.
As if feeling his eyes upon her, Luna turned her head and looked straight into Draco’s grey eyes. Her expression was completely unguarded. For a blinding moment, Draco saw her outside the context of his knowledge of her “ she was slender, quite pretty, with an elusive quality he had never seen in another girl. Then what he knew of her flooded his mind “ her appealing, forthright oddity, her courageous willingness to stand for what was right and to fight her enemies, her acceptance of him, in spite of what she knew of him as the son of a known Death Eater, as a Slytherin, as a tormentor of Harry Potter “
Draco took Pansy by the hand and pulled her along as he walked away from his father.
“Where are we going?” Pansy demanded peevishly, stumbling a bit in her high heels.
“Don’t be angry with me, Pans, but there’s someone I already promised this dance to.”
Pansy tried to yank her hand from his, but he would not release her, continuing instead to pull her inexorably along with him. “Draco!” she protested desperately. “Stop!”
But he did not stop until he reached Neville Longbottom.
“You know Miss Parkinson, don’t you, Neville?” Draco said to the round-faced Gryffindor.
Neville gave Draco an uncertain look before turning his gaze to the rather flushed young woman and bowing politely. “Of course. Good evening, Miss Parkinson.”
Pansy gave a perfunctory curtsy, eyeing Neville speculatively. Draco spoke again. “There you go, Pans,” Draco said. “Neville took top honours in our year in Herbology, you know. He knows all about flowers and plants “ you can tell him about your gardening. I’m sure he would be honoured to dance with you.”
Pansy gave Draco a sour look, clearly recognizing that she had been passed off to the first available chump, and also knowing Draco well enough to realize that she could not argue him out of whatever he was planning to do.
“Is that true, Mr. Longbottom?” she asked, with a show of practiced shyness. “Would you be honoured?”
Neville was in the act of valiantly offering his arm to Pansy when Draco touched Luna’s elbow from behind, causing her to turn her startled face to him. The joy in her eyes made it all worthwhile to Draco.
“Will you open the ball with me, Miss Lovegood?” he asked her huskily, taking her hand in his.
Luna nodded and walked away from Neville without a backward glance.
Draco stepped up to the dais where the orchestra leader stood. “Luna Lovegood. Luna Lovegood,” he said quietly.
Snape watched with ill-concealed amusement this masterful out-manoeuvring of his old friend, Lucius, by his oh-so-Malfoy son.
The Master of Ceremonies stepped forward and announced, “Mr. Lucius Malfoy and Mrs. Sophronia Snape; Mr. Draco Malfoy and Miss Luna Lovegood.”
The two Malfoy men stepped onto the dance floor from separate ends of the room; Lucius was glaring daggers at his disobedient son, but Draco had eyes for no one but the girl in his arms.
The music began, and Sophronia easily regained her partner’s attention. In a rather forward move for her, she allowed the fingertips of the hand resting on Lucius’ shoulder to flare out and briefly caress the line of his jaw, before resuming their chaste position on his robes. His startled eyes flew to her face, and she smiled at him sweetly. “Is it so very bad?” she asked him, her steps suiting his nicely as they waltzed about the room. “He is very fond of her, I believe.”
Lucius marvelled at the beauty and desirability of the woman he held in his arms, feeling a very strong urge to kiss her possessively in the middle of the dance floor. The touch of her hand upon his face had driven all thought of any other concern from his mind. He mastered the improper impulse, satisfying himself with tightening his hold upon her waist.
“The children will have to fend for themselves tonight, my dear,” he said, immersing himself in the depths of her bluebell eyes. “I created this ball for you “ it is an imperfect setting for such a jewel, but I have done my poor best, and I fully intend to make sure that your enjoy your ball.”
Sophronia felt herself stiffening in his arms, not only from his rather tight hold upon her, but also from his words. She was seriously considering him for a husband, yet she found that she did not particularly care to hear him say to her that he had given the ball for her, even if she knew it was true. It seemed improper for him to say so, somehow, as if it placed her in his debt.
In spite of the years she had spent as a Snape, Sophronia had yet to master the intricacies of Slytherin scheming.
After several bars of the first song, the other guests joined the Malfoys on the dance floor. Snape led Fleur into the dance, keeping a rigid distance between his torso and hers, refusing to grant the world the satisfaction of seeing him with his fiancée rubbing her body all over him. He was polite, but impersonal and distant. After several attempts, Fleur stopped trying to initiate a conversation and simply danced in silence, her mind coldly laying out her options for her perusal. The ice-silver dress had obviously been a waste of gold. What would it be necessary for her to do if she wished to bind this man to her irrevocably?
She stole a look at his face and saw him staring intently to one side. Following his line of sight, she found herself looking at the revolting prospect of Remus Lupin dancing with animal grace and laughing down into the upturned face of none other than Hermione Granger.
Granger. Always Granger.
Her resolution hardened. Tonight, then.
Tonks circled the room with Viktor as her partner; it was a triumph, to have been his choice of partner for the first dance, and she felt the jealous eyes of other women following her in his embrace. In spite of her best intentions, her own recreant eyes kept returning to Remus as he held Hermione in his arms. Had he ever laughed that happily with her?
Was it too late to fight for him?
Bill Weasley moved amongst the guests who were not dancing, pausing to shake hands and exchange words with those he knew. His mother had insisted that he attend this function; when he had shown resistance, Molly had sweetly offered to drop by his flat and dress him for the occasion. Upon that threat, he had acquiesced. Now, he found a piece of unused wall, and leaned his shoulder upon it, crossing his arms over his chest and settling in to observe the dancers, deciding which of the girls he could ask to dance without raising their hopes of something more. Mum would want a list of whom he had seen and what he had done; it was easier to answer her questions than it was to argue with her.
There was Tonks, who was good for a dance. Hermione went by with Remus Lupin; she would dance with him “ that made two dances. Neville Longbottom was dancing with a rather hard-faced girl he didn’t know; there was Ron, with a chit who could scarcely be old enough to attend a ball “ but the child looked familiar. Next he saw Harry, dancing with …
Bill looked desperately around, until he spotted his former Head of House, sitting in an armchair and chatting comfortably with the dumpy little woman who had been his Herbology professor. Bill approached them quickly, apologized for interrupting them, and turned his charming smile on Professor McGonagall. “Ma’am, do you know that girl? The one dancing with Harry?”
“Of course I know her, Mr. Weasley; that is Skye Snape.”
Bill’s mind raced. Snape? That girl was a Snape?
“Please tell me she didn’t marry Severus,” he said, feeling nauseous.
McGonagall snorted. “Don’t be absurd! She is Severus’ half-sister.”
Bill looked quickly into McGonagall’s eyes. “You mean she isn’t married? But is she betrothed?”
“Not that I am aware of, Mr. Weasley. Why do you ask?”
Bill pulled McGonagall to her feet and kissed her cheek, giving her a hug to go with it.
“Bill!” she protested half-heartedly. “Behave yourself!”
For good measure, Bill leaned down and kissed the cheek of a laughing Professor Sprout, too.
“But why?” the little witch wanted to know, as the orchestra finished their first number, and Bill set off across the room.
“Because I am one happy wizard tonight!” Bill said gleefully.
The first dance came to an end and the dancers politely applauded the orchestra and moved to find their next partners. Hermione glanced curiously around the room. “Where is Sirius?” she asked Remus.
Remus frowned. “I thought he was right behind me. He was promised to Varen Vector for the first dance “ oh, she doesn’t look very happy, does she?”
Hermione saw the dangerous glint in the eye of her former Arithmancy professor. “Uh oh,” she murmured. “And here he comes now.”
Sirius Black gave the characteristic toss of his head which removed the over-long fringe of his black hair from his eyes. He looked splendid in crimson dress robes, with elaborate gold embroidery on the mandarin collar “ and he was well aware of it. He could not resist the temptation of wearing Gryffindor colours to Lucius Malfoy’s house “ but he was a bit late; it appeared that the first dance was already over. It would take some inspired grovelling to get back into Varen’s good graces, now.
With the unconscious style that had ever been his trademark, Sirius strolled into Malfoy’s ballroom as if he owned the place, prepared to have a light-hearted good time.
The sight which met his eyes made him feel as if he had just done a head-first dive into the Headmaster’s Pensieve.
There she was, the seraph whose face had haunted his dreams every day of the twelve years he had spent in Azkaban Prison. Virtually unchanged by time, she seemed to him, with her golden hair, ridiculously blue eyes, rose petal lips, and flawless skin “ looking just as she ought in her ball gown in the middle of an elegant ball room, like a queen. Her name fell from his lips like an answered prayer.
“Sophie!”
Skye and Harry ended the first dance, each with their attention focused elsewhere.
Harry began, “Skye, you won’t mind if…”
“Harry?”
Harry and Skye turned as one to find Bill Weasley towering over them.
“Bill!” Harry said happily, shaking the other wizard’s hand. “You made it!”
Bill cut his eyes to Skye, and Harry grinned in understanding. “Bill, this is …”
Bill had already stepped up to the angel from his vision, that day in the window of Madame Malkin’s shop. “Skye,” he breathed, as Harry spoke her name. “What a perfect name for an ethereal creature.”
Skye blushed prettily, but did not lower her eyes from Bill’s. Harry did not see her willingly take Bill’s hand for the next dance; he was too busy searching for Ginny.
Sophronia stood beside Lucius at the end of their dance, politely applauding the orchestra. As she turned to move from the middle of the room, her eye fell upon Sirius Black, standing just inside the door and staring as her as if he were seeing a ghost. She felt her face flushing; it was odd, seeing him tonight when she had been thinking of him so often lately. But why on earth was he gaping that way?
“Sirius?” she said softly, after hearing him speak her nickname from her school days.
He crossed the room to her in two strides, oblivious to the interested glances of the other guests, and clasped the elegant little hands she had impulsively extended to him.
“Sophie, what are you doing here? I thought you were gone!”
She laughed softly. “Where would I go? Where did you expect me to be? I’ve been living in your house for weeks.”
Ideas rushed through his mind at the speed of light, as connexions were made and his joy at finding her again overwhelmed his anger at the perfidy of the one from whom he would presently demand an explanation. The orchestra, oblivious to the vignette taking place on the dance floor, began to play the next number. Sirius gathered Sophronia into his arms and swept her into the dance, saying in passing, “Sorry, Malfoy “ I believe this dance is mine.”
Sophronia, had she been able to look away from the mesmerizing grey eyes of the most notoriously bad boy of her generation, would have been disturbed by the look of cold outrage on the face of Lucius Malfoy, standing abandoned in the middle of his own ballroom in the midst of his happily dancing guests.
Lupin and Hermione watched the entire tableau with Sirius, Sophronia, and Lucius Malfoy unfold, then looked at one another with great foreboding.
“What was that all about?” Hermione wondered out loud.
Lupin took her by the arm and led her from the dance floor, moving to a table from which he procured a glass of lemonade, which he offered to Hermione.
“They went out together when we were at school,” he told her. “But Sirius never stayed with any girl for very long, and Sophronia had numerous blokes who fancied her.”
“Well, that hasn’t changed,” Hermione murmured as she watched Lucius Malfoy stalk to a refreshment table and pick up a glass of pink champagne.
Neville danced the second dance with Pansy, then they sat out the third dance and drank iced lemonade on the terrace. Pansy was smarter about flowers than anyone Neville knew, with the exception of Professor Sprout and himself. She had a garden at her home, which her parents allowed her to design and plant on her own. As they sat on the Malfoy terrace, they exchanged comments about the layout of the elaborate rose garden.
Pansy listened to Neville’s comments about the proper prevention of aphid infestation in rosebushes and thought to herself that he was really far nicer than any of the boys from Slytherin. For one thing, he did not sneer at her hobby. For another, he actually listened to her when she spoke. Furthermore, the Longbottoms were as old a pure-blood family as any; even her father could not object to a connexion with the family on those grounds.
So she willingly agreed to Neville’s request to escort her to supper.
Snape sat with Fleur at supper “ well, he sat with her as much as he could have been said to sit with anyone. He frequently left her side to police the tables across the room where sat his sisters and the other young ladies from Grimmauld Place. He also left the room for several minutes, after doing what seemed to be a head count.
“Where are you going?” Fleur demanded.
“Into the garden “ it appears there may be some need of chaperonage in the rose bushes.”
With his lips pressed into a grim line, he strode away. Fleur looked about for company, and spied Percy Weasley, who was in conversation with his twin brothers. When Percy perceived Fleur’s eye upon him, he smiled politely and excused himself to his brothers.
“How do you do, Miss Delacour?” he asked with a slight bow.
“I am very well, Percy “ please, call me Fleur. Come, sit with me. Are you having a nice time?”
“Delightful,” he replied.
“I saw you dance the quadrille with Miss Granger. You looked very nice together.”
Percy’s face darkened. “I asked to bring her in to supper, but she is sitting with Lupin.” His lip curled. “That fellow has no serious intentions towards her, can she not see that?”
Fleur pursed her lips. “She is very young, you know. I’m sure that she will see who truly cares for her before long. She is a very fortunate young woman to have attracted your attention, Percy.”
Percy swelled a bit under this flattery. “Well, I do think I am a far more serious person, more the type that Hermione would appreciate than he is.”
Fleur lowered her voice. “Shall I speak to Severus for you, Percy? He is her chaperone, after all.”
Percy nodded earnestly. “Would you, Fleur? I would be very grateful if you felt you could.”
Fleur gave him an oddly satisfied smile. “It would be my pleasure, I promise you.”
Lucius escorted Sophronia to supper; fortunately, he had secured her promise long before. By some adroit manoeuvring, and with the collusion of his house-elves, no one joined them at their table, nor were they disturbed. Lucius had the opportunity to exercise the full magnitude of his charm upon her, to no avail. Sophronia was far too well brought up to show inattention to her partner, but she was obviously distracted.
“I take it Black was surprised to see you?” he finally said.
Sophronia glanced up at him with guilty eyes. “He thought I had married and moved out of the country,” she explained.
“It is a shame he should have learned any differently,” he murmured. “Perhaps, given a few more weeks, you might have done so.”
Sophronia smiled a bit mechanically. “I cannot make such decisions until I have Skye settled.”
Lucius glanced over to the table occupied by the Weasley siblings and their supper partners. “One of the Weasleys seems vastly pleased with her,” he said.
Sophronia looked over to see her daughters sitting side-by-side, book-ended by two tall Weasley brothers.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
Lucius raised his eyebrows in inquiry.
“Severus is not really pleased with the Weasleys,” she explained.
Lucius nodded. “Understandable,” he said.
Sophronia stood, folding her napkin and placing it on her plate. “I find the entire family to be charming,” she said quietly. “I am going upstairs to check in on Stormy, if you will excuse me.”
Lucius stood also. “I’m sure the house-elves would come for you if she were in need of you,” he coaxed, hoping to keep her with him.
Sophronia looked into his face, as if she were seeing something new about him. “A child is always in need of her mother,” she responded before leaving him.
The guests returned to the ballroom following supper to find Draco Malfoy in the place of the Master of Ceremonies.
“The orchestra are sitting down to a quick supper,” he informed them with a very charming smile. “We will carry on with a few fun songs until they rejoin us. Let us consider the subject of … magic.”
Draco placed the disc player on the podium and spoke a quiet spell to increase the sound, then pressed the button. Magically amplified music filled the room.
Lupin began to laugh when the first song began to play.
“What’s so funny?” Hermione asked him.
“Do You Believe in Magic -- it’s an old Muggle song from the sixties.”
Hermione sniffed and stepped onto the dance floor. “Don’t you know how to dance to rock and roll?”
Lupin gave her a wicked look. “I know a challenge when I hear one.”
Hermione saw that many of her friends remained on the side of the room, watching the older people hit the dance floor and relive their youth. She noticed that Percy was involved in a conversation with Fleur, with Snape holding up the wall at their side. As she watched, Varen Vector strolled over to Snape and spoke to him. He turned an amused face to his fellow professor; Hermione saw Fleur smile up at him and nod, then Snape gave Professor Vector a bit of a bow and allowed her to lead him onto the floor.
Lupin saw the look of incredulity on her face and followed her gaze. “Does that surprise you?” he asked her, a bit short of breath. “They were in the same house, you know “ they were friends.”
The song medley segued into Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, and Snape actually laughed out loud at something Professor Vector said to him as they matched their steps to the new beat.
“Good heavens, of course it does!” Hermione answered in amazement. “He looks quite human.”
And a thoughtful look descended upon her face.
When the medley finished to the strains of Magic Man, the dancers were happy for a chance to catch their breath and pick up a cold drink from one of the refreshment tables. Draco ascended to the dais again.
“The next song is the lady’s choice,” he said. “I have chosen it in honour of my father,” he added, saluting his parent, who stood among the guests with a curious expression upon his face. The guests applauded and Lucius raised a careless hand in answer, and even took a bit of a bow.
“Now ladies,” Draco continued, “each of you knows a wizard like this. Find the one you would call a Smooth Operator and ask him to dance.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the crowd. The beginning strains of the song began to play and the witches took that cue to seek out their partners.
Neville was astonished to have Pansy approach him with her hand extended.
“I’m not s-smooth,” he stuttered, proof positive that he was not.
Pansy gave him a genuine smile. “I think you are,” she told him.
Ginny and Shadow were standing with Harry and Ron and they quickly laid their claims.
Luna was standing several steps behind the others, watching Draco on the dais with shining eyes. There was a cough and a choking noise from the curtained doorway behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, but saw only a slightly billowing drape. When she heard the choking noise again, she slipped behind the screen that partially hid the doorway and pulled the curtain to one side.
Just inside the small room on the other side of the drape, a fair-haired, handsome man was slumped in an armchair. His breathing appeared to be laboured, and Luna approached him quickly.
“Are you all right?” she asked, kneeling beside the man.
He opened his eyes and looked at her. She recognized him then, as Fleur’s brother, Val Delacour. His eyes seemed a bit bleary, but he spoke to her rationally enough.
“I was just feeling a little sick,” he murmured, looking her over in a frankly appraising way.
“Shall I fetch someone? Your sister?”
Luna began to rise, and Val took her wrist. “Please don’t go just yet. I’m sure I will feel better directly if you could just hand me that cup of water.”
Luna saw the punch glass on the table beside his chair and handed it to him; it smelled of spirits, and did not look like water. “I could get some water for you,” she offered helpfully, genuinely distressed for him. “It is so unpleasant to feel unwell.”
Val allowed his hand to travel up her arm, then back down to her wrist. “I’m feeling better already,” he promised her.
Hermione and Lupin watched as four different women converged on the spot where Sirius was standing, each of the four apparently with old memories in their minds. Sirius had a comically dismayed expression on his face, until a rather determined Sophronia Snape reached him first and took his hand. Then he delivered one of his devastating smiles and meekly allowed her to lead him onto the floor.
“Dear Merlin, look at Malfoy. If looks could kill, Sirius would be one dead dog,” Lupin murmured to her.
“Don’t look behind you, Remus, but I think you’re about to be tagged,” Hermione told him. “You’ll excuse me, won’t you? I have to do something.”
Hermione walked away just as Lupin felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to find his heart’s desire gazing up at him wistfully.
“Dance with me?” Tonks said.
Snape quirked his lips as Varen Vector excused herself and made a beeline for Lucius Malfoy. Some crushes apparently lingered on for years, he mused.
He crossed his arms and leant against the wall, cynically relishing the antics of the roomful of people. Sophronia was certainly making a fool of Lucius tonight with her romping with the Black mutt; it was most amusing.
He was entirely willing to be entertained.
Hermione approached him from the side. His attention was directed elsewhere, and she took a moment to simply look at him. His ravens’ wing hair hung about his face without obscuring it. He wore the tailored black evening wear with an air that was so much a part of his bearing that it required no thought or effort on his behalf. The Order of Merlin pinned to his chest blazed under the multitude of candles in the crystal chandeliers. There was a rather appealing half-smile on his face and in his eyes as he looked about him.
Until he saw her.
Snape turned his head and saw the Granger girl, standing and looking at him without a trace of challenge or guile. In an instant, his guard was up and he willed himself not to look away from her gaze. He had been watching her dancing with the werewolf all night long, laughing with him, eating with him, flirting with him “ what in the world did she want now?
Those perfect corkscrew curls had been artfully pinned so that a very few of them framed her face whilst the rest clustered atop her head in a tumble of dark brown tresses. The frank brown eyes held the tiniest question as they rested on his face. Those lavish lips were very slightly parted. He would not permit himself to look below her face; he knew from an earlier, damning moment that the flame-coloured gown was cut very low across her full breasts.
As he stood, locked in her gaze, she astounded him by sweeping a deep curtsey. His eyes darted quickly right and left to make absolutely certain she was directing herself to him. Then he took her hand and placed insistent pressure upon it so that she rose again.
“Miss Granger,” he growled, “you must not…”
She spoke simultaneously. “You will dance with me,” she marvelled, lightly squeezing the hand that held hers.
Acceding to the inevitable, he bowed and escorted her onto the floor.
Fleur, who had been making her way to her fiancé after the ladies’ choice had been announced, stopped in her tracks when she saw Severus take the floor with Hermione Granger in his arms, showing himself to be every inch the “Smooth Operator” the song proclaimed him to be. How dared he humiliate her in this way?
Granger would be made to pay.
A/N: When reading amr's The Lioness Prophecies, on another site, I was overcome with Ball Envy, and suffered greatly from Ball Inferiority. After a bit of pampering from Kel and my Beloved Slytherin, I finally rallied enough gumption to finish the chapter, if not the ball!
The dropping of the neckline happened to me, by the way. Lo these many years ago, the first time hubby and I married, I ordered my wedding gown in a size smaller than I thought I needed -- giving in to my mother, don't ya know -- and when it arrived, it was too tight in the bust. So, the seamstress let it out and the neckline dropped a full inch. I really did want to walk around that day with my hand covering my cleavage. And I'm so short, I know everyone in the receiving line got a good look down the front of my dress. Aren't I mean to give that experience to Hermione?