Falling Is Like This

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CHAPTER 7: LAST DANCE

The ceremony went smoothly. The graduates sat in alphabetical order in the first few rows of chairs. It was neither overly long nor tedious; Dumbledore spoke for a short time, warmly congratulating the students on their making it thus far, and wishing them every bit of luck in their up-coming careers. The students were then called up to receive their diplomas, a large piece of rolled parchment, the Hogwarts crest emblazoned upon the seal.

Rosaline was one of the last to be called up. She smiled broadly as she took the diploma from the Headmaster who returned her smile warmly and shook her hand, his blue eyes twinkling down at her. She turned back to the audience and half-paused, caught off guard. Snape was standing at the doors of the Great Hall, off to her right, his black eyes on her. He turned on his heel a moment later and swooped through the doors, his cloak, as always, billowing behind him. Rosaline returned to her seat, shaken slightly. Her remaining classmates received their diplomas, and Dumbledore turned to the now-official graduates and their families.

"Well, now that we have finished that necessity of administration, I propose we eat," the Headmaster said cheerfully. With a wave of his wand, a long table bearing many dishes heaped with food appeared along the far wall at the back of the Great Hall, as well as a number of tables and chairs, spread along the remaining two walls.

Dumbledore smiled broadly. "Please, help yourselves."

With a gentle roar of noise, the occupants of the Hall broke into conversation and movement.

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The feast was essentially finished. Most people sat around the tables or stood in groups, chatting about their plans for the summer, how Hogwarts had differed in their day, or what they planned to do with the rest of their lives.

Rosaline sat with her parents, telling them about her desire to pursue a career in potions, in any aspect. Her father told her immediately he was behind her, no matter what she chose, while her mother seemed somewhat reluctant.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do, mo chroÃ-?"

Rosaline nodded. "Yes Mum, I've wanted to do this for a while. Potions has always been my best subject, but more importantly, I love it."

"Well, it's your choice," her mother said slowly, "but I had always hoped you'd join the Ministry and become an Auror."

"Mum, I'll still join the Ministry. Just not as an Auror. I'm sure they can use a skilled Potions Master -- which I intend to become," Rosaline said patiently. Her mother simply nodded.

The possibility of an argument was interrupted as Dumbledore, standing on the upraised dais at the front of the Great Hall, began to speak.

"It appears as though everyone has concluded their luncheon, so I shall take this time to again thank you all for attending, and to extend my invitation to the graduates to retire to their dormitories and prepare for the ball tonight -- I'm sure they have much planning and primping to do," he said pleasantly, "To their families and friends who are travelling by Portkey, we have made the necessary arrangements for you to return home. Professor McGonagall shall direct you to your point of departure."

The severe-looking woman stood and began to walk towards the doors of the Great Hall.

Rosaline hugged her parents and smiled. "I'll be home tomorrow -- there're Portkeys arranged for all of us."

The two elder Stauntons bade their daughter goodbye, her mother kissing her cheek, and left the Great Hall to head towards the barrier of Hogwarts, so they could Apparate back to Ireland.

Anne walked over to Rosaline and grinned, slipping her arm through her friends. "C'mon Ros. We've got girly shit to do!"

With a laugh, Rosaline allowed herself to be led from the Hall.

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Snape sat stiffly in his office, drumming his long fingers against the smooth dark surface of his desk. His black eyes rested on the cold, empty hearth to his right, but they did not see it. Instead they saw a slender young woman, with soft wavy brown hair and green eyes, clothed in the longer, more elegant graduation robe than those worn by students every day at Hogwarts.

She's not your student anymore. The thought had returned with heavy artillery and paraded obstinately through his head. He attempted vainly to banished it with a low snarl.

'I'm old enough to be the girl's father,' he told himself, 'and whether or not she's my student, she is still a child. I may be some breed of monster, but I refuse to degrade myself by succumbing to this perverted lust.'

You don't know how old she is, the voice told him, and besides, 16 is the age of consent.

Snape scowled, staring harder at the empty fireplace, as if to ignite it with his gaze.

"I. Will. Not. Yield." he hissed, hoping to silence the voice with venomous thoughts.

It did not work. Memories, coloured by lust, of her soft body pressed against his sprung, unbidden, to his mind.

He ran a hand over his eyes wearily and shook his head. 'Fine, she's not a child, and she's no longer my student. And yes, I want to lock her in my bedchamber and keep her there forever. But she's still young and still naïve. And she probably has come to her bloody senses and realised how repulsive I am.'

What is she hasn't? the voice asked. Snape merely growled.

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Rosaline pushed her now gently curling hair back sideways off her face, and fixed it in place with a small silver pin, decorated simply, a small green leaf fashioned from an emerald glittering demurely on the end. Its mate was already occupied with holding back the soft curls above Rosaline's other temple. She stood still for a moment, looking herself over critically. Her pale green dress robes shimmered softly, a hint of a silver appearing when the light hit the material at a certain angle. As with most dress robes, Rosaline's bore a close resemblance to a Muggle gown. The edging along the low, square neckline and wide, shoulder-covering straps was embroidered in delicate silver thread, the same thread which was stitched around the high, empire waistline, creating stylized leaves and vines. Her lashes were darkened and her eyes made up subtly with soft green hues.

"All in all, not too shabby," Rosaline murmured, before heading out of the bathroom. Anne was the only other one left in the room; she sat on her bed, dabbing her lips with pale pink gloss, which Rosaline snatched jokingly and applied to her own mouth. Anne grinned, resplendent in dark blue robes of some diaphanous, delicate material.

"I'd say we're ready to go -- most people would've arrived by now," Anne said pointedly, not so subtly indicating it was Rosaline's fault they were running late. Rosaline shot her friend an unimpressed look.

"And who was it who insisted she just had to wash her hair again?"

Anne rolled her eyes and conceded a grin. 'Okay, okay. Let's just get down there, alright? I don't want to have to viciously push too many girls out of my way to get a dance with Spimmel." Anne was referring to an alarmingly good-looking Ravenclaw, who also happened to be Head Boy, and single.

Rosaline rolled her eyes and grinned. "I swear to the Gods Annie, he's gay!" Anne stuck her tongue out at her friend, and pulled her out of the room.

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Anne had been right -- most of the graduates had already arrived, and were mingling in small groups or sitting at the tables spread around the edges of the Great Hall. The Hall itself was beautifully decorated -- candles were floating in the air above the tables, but there were less of them than usual, and they appeared to give off some faint scent of flowers. Rosaline thought it might be lilac, and quickly banished the memories connected with that aroma.

Someone, most likely Professor Sprout, had conjured live roses and ivy along the walls of the Hall, the tendrils spreading across the surfaces like delicate fingers, the deep red blooms like rings. However, the most spectacular sight had to be the large glass ball suspended from many crossing vines above the center of the impromptu dance floor. Dozens of small, golden points of light danced within the opaque sphere, causing it to give off an inconstant but gentle glow. Rosaline watched it, enthralled with its beauty.

Anne tugged at the other girl, pulling her out of her reverie and towards a table seating a number of other Gryffindor graduates. They took their seats and began their last dinner as students under the enchanted ceiling, through which the full moon shone brightly amid the twinkling of stars.

The quiet conversations over dinner seemed somewhat subdued. Though pleased to be moving on with their lives, the young occupants of the tables were sad to leave the old castle which had been their home for the past seven years.

Rosaline, mid-way through the main course, risked a furtive glance at the staff table. Snape was not present, his seat glaringly empty among the smiling, chatting faces of the other professors. This reality left her feeling strangely disappointed, but Rosaline did not allow herself to dwell on it and instead turned to speak to Benjem, who had been shyly asking her what she planned to do now that they had graduated.

"I'm thinking about going into Potions research," she said.

"Potions?" Benjem asked, clearly surprised. "Why?"

"I've always rather liked it, and besides," she joked, "I'm not actually all that good at anything else."

Benjem chuckled, but his blue eyes still revealed disbelief. "You mean you actually enjoyed classes with that slimy git Snape?"

Rosaline forced a laugh and merely nodded trying hard to hide her blush.

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The feast concluded, and with a wave of his wand, Dumbledore created a small platform in a previously empty corner of the Great Hall, piled high with odd-looking audio equipment. As quickly as it appeared, it began to emit music -- songs which were regularly heard on the more popular radio programs on Wizard Wireless. Couples slowly headed out onto the dance floor, nervous to be the first.

Rosaline smiled as a tall Hufflepuff boy asked Anne to dance. She brushed off her friend's questioning look which clearly asked if it was alright if she left Rosaline on her own. Rosaline shooed her off and sat back, watching the dancers with pleasure.

Benjem tapped her shoulder, and she looked at him in surprise. He grinned and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her seat and onto the dance floor.

"Isn't it customary to ask your partner to dance before dragging them onto the floor?" Rosaline asked, amused, as she rested a hand on the tall boy's shoulder. Benjem grinned and put one hand on her hip, taking her free hand in his.

"Generally, yes. But I've never bothered much with tradition."

Rosaline laughed and allowed him to lead her off among the other couples.

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Rosaline danced with a number of other boys, many from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, with a few Hufflepuffs thrown in for good measure. She had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when, mid-way through the evening, Anne danced past her and her partner with Spimmel, the blond gazing adoringly into his eyes, while the slightly nervous young man looked down at her warily.

Midnight passed and the early morning came silently, yet still the music played on. No longer students, the graduates were now privy to new freedoms -- including a far less staunch attention to curfews. The staff seemed to be enjoying themselves as well -- there were more than a few grins exchanged at the sight of Dumbledore waltzing around the room with McGonagall.

Rosaline sat on her own, feeling more than a little melancholy. She was deep in thought, and was shocked to realise she was wishing Snape was present. Shaking herself, she stood and quietly exited the Great Hall, gliding through the entrance hall and out onto the front lawn. Both sets of doors were open, and she could still hear the music playing softly. Standing on the front steps, Rosaline lost herself in the infinity above her, searching for constellations and planets.

A soft rustle behind her dragged Rosaline back to the terrestrial world. She turned her head to the side, and stilled her instinct to jump. The impenetrable wall of blackness remained where it was as Rosaline raised her eyes to Snape's face. Her looked down at her impassively, time slowing to a halt as their gazes locked. The music inside the Hall faded, and Dumbledore's voice drifted out to the duo's ears.

"As it has become inconveniently late, I fear I must draw this pleasant gathering to a close. There shall be one final dance, so I suggest you choose your partners wisely."

Rosaline could almost hear the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes as he said the last sentence, and she wondered offhandedly if it was directed to her and the tall man standing behind her.

She turned slowly, and smiled faintly at Snape. To her surprise, he extended a hand.

"Would you care to dance, Miss Staunton?" he murmured, his voice strangely gentle.

Rosaline slipped her hand into his, surprised at it's softness, and stepped up to him, sliding her free arm up his chest to rest on his shoulder. Snape wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer yet. Rosaline gasped softly, earning a smirk from her partner who dug his fingers into the small of her back that much harder. Responding in kind, Rosaline wrapped her arm around his neck, unwilling to back down from this challenge. Snape stared at her searchingly, a glitter of amusement in the black depths of his eyes, before he lead her in a slow, intimate waltz across the lawn. Rosaline found herself captivated by his gaze, unable to look away. She looked up at him helplessly, going through the motions of the dance, following his lead. A shiver of lust ran through her, and she tore her eyes away, pressing her face into his chest so he could not see.

They had danced away from the doors, across the lawns, neither noticing or caring that they could no longer hear the music. Rosaline inhaled deeply, breathing in Snape's scent. The tall man looked down at the top of her head and sighed inaudibly, mustering his composure.

"Miss Staunton, you should go to bed."

The girl started and looked up at him, mild displeasure on her features. "I don't want to, Professor."

Snape frowned. "Don't be difficult, child," he snapped, releasing her from his arms.

Rosaline narrowed her eyes and pressed her body closer to his. "I'm not a child, Professor. I'm 18, and on top of that I am no longer a student under your care. So don't treat me as though I were an ignorant first year with a schoolgirl crush!"

Rosaline snapped her mouth shut, as surprised as Snape appeared to be at her daring. His black eyes flickered with uncertainty for a moment, before the hardness of resolve froze within them, not without a sadistic glint.

"Yes," he murmured, bending his head down towards her, till his warm breath tickled her face, "you're quite right. However, I'm not wholly convinced that you are ready for what you seem to want."

Rosaline's eyes widened and she tightened her grip about his shoulders. "I'm not as innocent as you seem to believe," she whispered, trying to sound brave.

Snape merely smirked, and without warning, captured her mouth in a searing, passionate kiss.

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