Unlikely Connections

Chapter Nineteen - The Monster Mash

The long trudge up four flights to Gryffindor Tower was blurred in a haze of anxiety and emotion as Hermione ran, clutching the voluminous robes and swiping tears from her eyes. About two flights up, she realized that she couldn't be seen like this. Storming into the common room wearing nothing but Snape's robes and tears would not be prudent in the slightest, especially given her recent unpleasantries with Ron and Harry.

Burying herself in an alcove next to the portrait of Vlad the Impaler, Hermione drew her wand from her bag - which she barely remembered swinging over her shoulder on her way out of his office - and closed her eyes. She screwed up her face in concentration, picturing the outfit she had been wearing earlier, and transfigured Snape's teaching robes into a fairly good likeness of her Weird Sisters T-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans. She swung her bag over her shoulder again and finished the march back to the common room.

She took several steadying breaths, ignoring the incessant babble of the Fat Lady, before muttering the password and tentatively entering Gryffindor Tower. Harry and Ron were seated in front of the fire, talking in low tones, while the rest of the room was scattered with groups of two or three, humming with whispered conversations. The instant Hermione entered the room, the quantity (but not volume) of whispers increased three-fold; she could only hear snatches of words like "kiss" or "disgusting" or "Snape," but she was fairly certain that it hinged on over hearing the bellowed arguments of the previous evening. She took a great heaving breath and made to move towards the fireplace.

Before she made it there, Hermione was waylaid by Ginny Weasley. The plucky sixth year had grown considerably over the last year and had filled out rather voluptuously. Her heart-shaped face was glazed with nervous concern as her eyes raked over Hermione.

"Erm, Hermione ...?" she started, pushing a strand of straight red hair from her eyes. "Are you all right?"

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Yes, of course, why?"

The younger girl looked distinctly nervous. "Well, in the firelight, I - that is to say, we - can't help noticing that you're ... erm ... missing something?"

Hermione frowned, but looked down to her chest where the girl was gesturing vaguely. She shrieked in horrified realization, causing several of the pairs of gossipers to jump nervously. In her haste to concentrate on transfiguring Snape's robes into her former outfit of a light pink T-shirt and jeans, she had neglected to add any undergarments of any kind. In the low firelight, this left little to the imagination. When she looked up again, she thanked Ginny for the warning and glanced towards the corner where Harry and Ron were sitting. There was a great ruffle of hair as they both turned away from her, trying to give the impression that they had not been watching the pair of girls.

Hermione felt she might swallow her tongue as she walked over to the corner where the boys say, concentrating overly hard on their game of wizards' chess. She cleared her throat in an attempt to rake away her nervousness; both boys flinched as if she had struck them, but remained staring fixedly at their chess pieces.

"Ron ..." Hermione started, but he shifted positions in his chair to turn away from her. "Harry ...?" she tried again.

Harry twitched, his gaze rising as high as her waist before he dropped it again.

"Please," she whined, unable to control the frustrated squeak in her voice.

Harry's head rose slowly. She could see in his eyes that he had noticed the panic in her tone. The hard cold glare of the previous evening had not quite left the sparkling green of his eyes as they fixed on her face. Ron did not raise his head.

"Yes?" Harry's voice sounded rusty, as if it had gone unused for a century.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I wanted to tell you that you were right. About Snape. Oh, hell," she said, exasperated, "you were right about everything. We -- talked this evening, and he said something that ... well that made me realize what a fool I've been behaving this way. I'm ... I'm sorry."

She stood for a moment, fidgeting her hands along the hem of her shirt. Harry's eyes trailed down to the middle of her chest and remained for a moment. Hermione remembered what Ginny had alerted her to and she quickly brought her arms up to hug around her breasts, embarrassed of what he may see. Harry said no words as his eyes moved back to hers; he needed none. The still icy glint left no doubt as to the reason for his stare.

Hermione squirmed. Very slowly and deliberately, Harry lowered his head back to the board and continued his game of chess with Ron. Hermione did not move; she was uncertain as to whether or not this was a good sign or a bad one.

After moving a piece across the board and wincing at the pummeling of his bishop by Ron's knight, Harry said, "You lied to me. To both of us. You kept things from us."

She shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I know and it was ridiculous. Foolish. I don't know what I saw in him, or what I thought would happen, but ... it was stupid and I was wrong. He made that quite clear tonight."

Harry nodded minutely and moved his rook. Ron's gaze never left the board.

"You made a fool out of yourself over someone extremely dangerous."

"Believe me, that is extremely over. I ... he ... it's over."

Harry looked up at her again quickly, and then, dropping his gaze, motioned to the armchair back up to the fire, between the two of them. As soon as she sat, Harry spoke again.

"Promise," he said.

"Anything," she replied instantly.

Harry heaved a sigh and then continued. "Promise that you won't keep anything like this from us again. Especially not to do with Snape."

"Absolutely."

"And one more thing," he continued as soon as she spoke.

"That if he ever touches you again, we have your permission to tear him--"

"Or you," Ron spoke up quickly.

"To pieces," Harry finished as if Ron's fragment had been a part of his own sentence.

Harry looked up Hermione and put out his hand. Hermione glanced down at it and then back up to his eyes, which had now dropped almost all of their ice. She blew out a long slow breath. Harry even smiled a tiny bit, just at the corners of his mouth.

Hermione took his hand and shook it soundly. "I can agree to that," she answered, breaking into a small, tentative grin. Harry returned her smile.

Ron never looked up.

****

Hermione was curled in a sitting position on her bed as Ginny Weasley pawed hurriedly through all her wardrobes and her trunk.

"Don't you own anything fun?" she exclaimed in frustration.

Hermione scowled. "I resent that. I quite enjoy my clothes, and besides, how was I to know that four days before the Halloween party they'd announce that it was a masquerade?"

Ginny huffed again and then drew up a chair in front of Hermione's bed. "What are you going to go as?"

"I haven't decided," Hermione answered, drawing another frown from the upbeat girl that was the last of the Weasley clan. "But I have an idea or two. What about you?"

"Oh, I've decided to be a cat ... I just haven't decided how wicked I'd like the costume to be yet." A sinister grin crept across Ginny's face. "I've got an idea though, would you like to see?"

Hermione nodded enthusiastically, and Ginny hopped up and closed her eyes. She was concentrating quite hard as she touched the tip of her wand to her school robes, transfiguring them to become her costume. Before Hermione's eyes, Ginny's robes cinched in to become a skin-tight leather jumpsuit complete with a long, thin tail. She grinned again and then transfigured her headband to include a set of cat ears. Her flame red hair stood out violently against the striking black polyvinyl suit.

Hermione blinked in shock and gasped slightly. "You're not really going to wear that are you? Ron will have your head!"

Ginny smirked. "Precisely."

And mine too for letting you out in that!"

"Ron needs to relax," Ginny finished easily, scanning her outfit in Hermione's full-length mirror. "Now, tell me about your idea," she said with a look of hungry interest.

"Well," Hermione began slowly, "it's a bit risqué."

"Well ..." she gulped at hearing his name, as he was quite connected to her costume idea. "Do you ... do you know where I could find a corset?"

****

They had been watching each other all week. Her detentions were now complete, so Hermione was no longer haunted throughout the day with concern of what to say to him later. She merely showed up for class as she had always done. She sat in the back - on Harry's left, with Ron on his right - like before. Ron had few words for her for the first few days, but as the week progressed he loosened marginally; Harry was speaking to her in bits and pieces, seemingly trying things out to make sure she'd hold to her word and stay away from Snape. Hermione barely acknowledged that anything had transgressed between teacher and student. It had been erased.

But even so, she found her eyes drifting over him every time they were in a room together. His dark eyes reflected nothing. She looked for some hint, some clue as to what he was thinking ... what he was feeling ... if he was feeling anything ... something to indicate that the night in his chambers, the feel of his hands and lips on her skin, had not been just a strange and surreal dream. But it was if the connection they had unknowingly forged the previous week had never existed. And his eyes reflected nothing.

And he said nothing.

****

Hermione stood in front of the full-length mirror in her room, heaving and tugging irritably at the costume that hugged tighter to her skin than anything ever had before.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" she whimpered, scanning her reflection while throwing a pained look to Ginny Weasley.

Ginny was carefully and delicately smoothing the tight jumpsuit across her calves. "Hey, it was your idea. I just didn't let you chicken out," she smirked. The girl's flame red hair bobbed as she tugged on heavily buckled ankle high boots.

Hermione scowled and looked back at herself. Hermione Granger doesn't dress like this.

"That's the whole point," Ginny chuckled, now standing behind Hermione, her hands on the older girl's bared shoulders.

"Hmm?" Hermione asked, startled. "Did I say that out loud?"

Ginny smirked. "You are nervous. Relax and trust me."

Ginny was making light, flicking movements with her wand. Hermione watched as her hair coiled itself up into a decidedly unruly mess of curls at the back of her head. Ginny muttered a charm and Hermione's normally honey-colored hair stained itself deep ebony. Hermione gasped as the change in hair color made her alabaster skin gleam a pale, pale white.

Another charm from Ginny and Hermione noticed her eyes deepen from the normal cinnamon brown to a burning red. "I'm sorry," she muttered as she yanked up the neckline of the top again. "I'd do this grooming stuff myself, but I'm a bit ... distracted."

Ginny merely smiled. "Don't worry about it. Besides, I'm better at hair and make-up charms anyway."

Hermione made a face at the suggestion that she was deficient in some area of charms, but she said nothing. A light wave of Ginny's hand and a striking silver eye shadow smoothed onto her face and her lips leapt to prominence, a vibrant blood red. Ginny turned to finish her own hair, combing it into smooth, gleaming waves, and placed her cat ears on her head. Hermione snickered lightly as she glanced at Ginny's reflection ... she looked like Catwoman from the old American Batman television show. When she turned, Hermione picked up her own wand, putting the finishing touches on her costume, and yanked on her boots. Hermione turned slowly from the mirror towards Ginny.

"Well?" she asked tentatively.

After a deep satisfied sucking-in of breath, Ginny smiled broadly. "Holy Merlin, they're not going to know what hit them."

Hermione smiled, Ginny's infectious giddiness began to leak into her veins.

****

Hermione could hear the boys complaining as she steadied herself at the top of the stairs.

"Good Lord," she heard Ron's voice grumble. "How long could it possibly take?"

"I don't know," Harry's voice chimed in, just as irritated. "But I'm telling you, Hermione better come down here looking like Margaret Thatcher, for all the time and preparation they've done."

She giggled during a deafening silence, and then Ron replied, "Looking like who?"

Hermione laughed all the louder and straightened her costume one last time.

"Never mind," Harry mumbled.

Ginny and Hermione descended the stairs slowly, Ginny for dramatic effect, Hermione trying desperately not to tumble down them head first. When they appeared on the second to last step and entered the view of the boys, both young men froze in their tracks and Ron let out a long low whistle. Ginny grinned broadly.

Hermione watched the boys as their eyes raced across Ginny's figure and then, slowly, across her own. She fought to keep from tugging at the outfit as they stared at her for several silent seconds. She watched Harry's eyes climb her body from the ground up. They scanned slowly over the knee-high leather boots she wore clinging close to her skin, then at the tight black miniskirt that afforded a full view of her fishnet stockings secured with a bright red garter belt (which was just visible between stocking and skirt). She felt Ron's eyes join Harry's as they scanned upwards over the black satin corset that was emblazoned with two identical red flames. The garment hugged close to her skin and dipped low at the neck to showcase her pale throat and breasts, riding high and prominent with the support of the corset. Her thin neck bore a thick red ribbon. Her hair, stained black, showed two large points of the red horns she had enchanted from two old barrettes.

"Uh ... oh dear ..." Harry mumbled a bit.

Hermione giggled and turned to show them her backside. "Look!" she said excitedly. "I even have a devil's tail that I enchanted to move on its own!"

Hermione beamed as the tail swung back and forth, undulating in what she thought was a quite sensual way. She and Ginny both beamed with pride at their handiwork. When the tail moved towards Ron, he stuck out a hand ... not towards the tail, but towards Hermione's bottom. Ginny noticed quickly and, without breaking her stride down the stairs, laughed and slapped him away. Hermione turned back and scanned the boys' costumes.

She let out an appreciative laugh as she figured out where Ginny had learned the charm for the black hair. She had obviously used it on both Harry and Ron. Harry was clad in a tight black frock coat that clipped him close to the chin, hiding his neck. He had borrowed Ron's robes, which, being so overly long on him, created the desired billowing effect. Harry must have done a temporary repairing charm on his eyesight, as he had removed his glasses to get the full effect. The real crowning achievement was the charm that gave Harry a perfectly authentic hooked nose. Hermione's smile faltered just a tad, but she regained it with a laugh.

"You're Snape!" she chortled.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Had it planned for months. I mean, he's scary enough, isn't he?" He beamed.

"Well, it's very convincing," Hermione said. She then turned to Ron. A giggle raced the length of the room as Ron spun, modeling his costume. He had dyed and messed his hair admirably, and drawn an absurdly large reddish lightning bolt across his forehead.

"Incredible," Hermione chuckled. "Harry dresses as Snape and you dress as Harry." Hermione and Ginny both shook their heads and laughed as Ron smirked and perched Harry's glasses at the end of his nose.

"Aren't we all going to knock them dead?" Ginny said, smiling, as Harry offered her his arm. Ron offered his to Hermione, and she reached out a hand that wasn't quite steady to take the proffered arm. He was smiling gently, but his eyes were running everywhere on her body, nonstop. There was something about his gaze that was not quite friendly to her. She mumbled to herself that she was just overanalyzing and allowed Ron to swing her cloak over her shoulders.

"Shall we?" Harry asked, before leading them all out the portrait hole and down towards the main door of the castle.

****

Their faces pinkened around the noses and cheeks as they stepped in out of the unseasonably nippy October air. The Three Broomsticks was full to bursting with fifth, sixth and seventh years, chatting excitedly and looking over their shoulders to make certain that there really weren't any teachers present. Hermione smiled broadly as she shook the rain off her cloak. The Weird Sisters were setting up in the far corner, getting ready to play a set, a strange view of robes amidst the sea of brightly colored and stylized costumes.

The pub had been decked out in true form of Dumbledore's Halloween celebrations. Clouds of live bats circled the ceiling, glittering pumpkins floated over the dance floor, and a suit of armor was circling with a tray of spiced pumpkin juice, handing it out to the students at the booths along the sides.

Harry, Ron, Ginny and Hermione moved to a corner booth nearby to drop their cloaks, garnering quite a few stares as they did so. Hermione could feel even more eyes searing her as she removed her cloak and adjusted the top of her corset. She felt ridiculously conspicuous.

"Ginny," she whispered nervously, "they're all staring."

She smiled wickedly. "That's because they're jealous that you look great and they're all crap."

"I dunno," Hermione muttered, but smiled anyway.

Harry, Ron and Ginny were already moving away to join the throng of people surrounding the Weird Sisters, who were just tuning up. Hermione bent over her cloak, fishing for a mirror she had stowed away to check her appearance.

"I see London, I see France," a smooth voice hissed behind her, "I see what Mudblood's got that makes Snape dance ..."

Hermione whipped around and straightened with as much dignity as possible. She never wore skirts this short, so it never occurred to her that she had just flashed a good portion of her bum to the entire party. Mustering up enough disdain to cover her embarrassment, Hermione stared straight back into Draco Malfoy's face and smirked.

"Take a good look, mate, it's the closest you'll ever get," Hermione bit back, sneering back at him, eye-to-eye from the height of her platform boots. "And just what are you supposed to be? A worm?"

Draco's face flushed in anger, an odd shock of red against the yards of black and green. Draco's robes trailed about behind him into a point reminiscent, to Hermione, of a Muggle bride's train. He was swathed, ankles-to-neck, in shining black snakeskin robes that bore neon green diamond patterns. The robes ended in a turtleneck that cut close to his chin, and his hair had been dyed to match the rest of the costume. As she stared at him, he opened his mouth and insolently ran his tongue across his teeth, where she noticed he had enchanted a set of elongated - and very realistic - fangs.

"Never trust a serpent not to strike, Mudblood."

Hermione heard a deep, throaty laugh echo from her throat. "Oh, poo," she responded, "I'd be more afraid of a bite from a flobberworm." She turned to stride away in what she felt was a confident manner.

All too easily, she felt Draco's hand slide up under her skirt to clench painfully against her bottom. A set of long, thin, elegant fingers closed around her throat. "Beware, Granger. There are more things that will be endangered this evening than just your reputation."

Hermione turned to look at him, unable to wipe away much of the fear on her face. Capitalizing on her moment of shock, Draco leaned over and set his mouth upon her neck. She slapped him away, but not before his fangs left two small indentations near her shoulder. As he moved away, smirking, she clapped a hand to her neck, and walked unsteadily out onto the dance floor to find Ron, Ginny and Harry.

****

Hermione was thoroughly surprised at herself. She was enjoying the Halloween party so much that she even allowed herself to be dragged out onto the floor to do some ridiculously Muggle-like fast dancing with Ginny. She even found herself swept away by the fact that many of the people in the room were indeed staring at her ... with envy. It was a heady thing that Hermione had never known before, even after what Ginny told her people had said at the Yule Ball three years ago. She found that she liked the attention.

About halfway through the evening she was out on the floor dancing with Ginny when she stepped backwards, squashed someone's toes, and nearly tripped. A pair of smooth, strong hands caught her before she hit the floor, and a familiar voice whispered, "Hermione, are you all right?"

Hermione looked up quickly as she righted herself. The person that had hoisted her off the floor was, to Hermione's sharp eye, recognized as not actually a student, though he was most definitely masquerading as one. Though he had done some sort of transfiguration to make himself shorter and rounder, the eyes were the same beneath the costumed face.

"Professor Lupin?" she asked, incredulously.

"Shhh," he said, grinning and putting a hand to his lips. He nodded around to the masses of students. "They're not supposed to suspect they're being chaperoned."

His face was gleaming with a youthful mischievousness. It was then that she looked down at his costume. She laughed appreciatively at the outfit. An ill-fitting pair of Muggle jeans and ripped T-shirt just barely covered gads of fake hair blossoming from sneakers and his collar. On his face he had enchanted a series of long jowls, more fake hair descending in long sideburns, and a set of perfectly ridiculous fangs. His hair was properly mussed and he looked a spitting image of a character she had seen in a movie once.

He grinned again at her laughter. "Good, don't you think? Ridiculous though, that this is what Muggles think werewolves look like ...." He lifted a hand that was also covered with fake hair and wriggled his fingers at her in a mock-menacing manner. She feigned fear and then chuckled again, but suddenly remembered her first instinct at his presence.

"What are you doing here?" she said quietly.

The smile faded from his face and he gestured to the corner booth where her cloak was stashed. Once they had sat down, his face was grave and he spoke quietly and quickly. "Protecting you ... all of you. This party isn't safe."

Hermione looked rapidly to where Harry was talking over butterbeer to Neville and Ginny and was nearly out of her seat before Lupin had grabbed her wrist and pulled her gently down again. "No," he said insistently. "No one can no we're here."

"We?" Hermione questioned. But before she had the chance to ask who else was guarding the students, her eyes scanned the interior of the Three Broomsticks. In the corner, she noticed a student she hadn't before. A small auburn-haired girl in bright purple, star bespeckled robes sat on a stool in the corner, bouncing her head and foot brightly in time to the music. On her lap was a familiar - and annoyed - looking tabby cat.

"Dumbledore and McGonagall," she mumbled to herself. "Who else?"

Towards the front of the group of students, she noticed a girl dressed as what could only be described in the Muggle world as a "punk rocker." The girl was lanky and clad in ripped jeans, high tops, a thick leather jacket and hair that stood straight up in a mohawk. It was pink.

"Tonks?" she questioned Lupin.

He nodded, grinning. "Good girl."

Just behind the gyrating girl was a taller, black boy dressed as the old Muggle movie character, Mr. T. "Kingsley Shacklebolt ... Wow, quite the turnout of the Order this evening."

"Can't put anything by you, can we?"

She smiled distractedly, but didn't let her concentration be waylaid. "What are you all doing here? I mean, I could see if one or two of the members of the staff were here in disguise to chaperone but ..." she trailed off as she noticed how serious Lupin's face had gone. "What's wrong? What's going to happen?"

Lupin looked around carefully before he leaned in to whisper to her. "An attack," he said quietly. "Harry's in trouble--"

Hermione's voice squeaked in panic. "Trouble? Harry!" She leapt up from the table so quickly that when Lupin reached out for her, his hand grasped only air. She was already meandering away from him, towards where Harry was standing at the bar. Hermione nearly fell over her own feet when the door to the Three Broomsticks swung open and someone who was most definitely not in costume strode into the building.

Dark, menacing, his cloak and face gleaming with the rain that coated his entire form, Snape wasted no time in striding across the room towards Harry. Hermione's throat was clenching in panic. Something was definitely wrong here ...

Much to her relief, Hermione reached Snape before he reached Harry. She tugged on the arm of his cloak. The hood of the cloak was drawn up around his head so that only she could see his face when he turned to her; she questioned, in a panicked hush, "What are you doing here? What's going on? You're in danger ..."

He opened his mouth and the first few syllables of a well-placed insult tumbled out before he looked down at her and stopped in mid-word. His eyes, shadowed by the hood drawn round, raked over her and she blushed, the intensity of his gaze reminding her where she had gotten the idea for this costume. He stared at her, stock still, for several moments before he reached his arm around to point his wand at her backside.

He muttered a charm she couldn't understand and then said, "You're missing something." Another charm whispered and she felt something drop into her hand. She looked down, dumbfounded. It was the whip she had 'used' upon him in the vision she had bested him with.

She looked up again quickly and stared hungrily into his eyes. Something was burning there, deep beneath the cold of his personality. It was spreading like wildfire and she could see the blush of heat warm his cheeks. Beneath the dripping hood of his cloak, his eyes were lit like torches, flaring from the depths of his pale skin. She took a quick glance around the room to make sure no one was watching her before she grasped his wrist and tugged him into an unoccupied corner.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quickly.

His eyes were still roaming over her body. "Following orders," he said shortly.

"Something's going to happen ... to Harry?" she managed.

"Yes, but ..." he stammered. "It's ... not going to end the way you think. It's planned that way but--"

"Harry," she squealed and was nearly on her way to him. Snape reached out swiftly and grabbed her upper arm.

"No!" he whispered furiously. When his voice came again it was low and menacing; she trembled with the intensity that she heard there. "Do not get in the way of this, Granger. Danger exists to more than just Mr. Potter if things do not go the way they have been planned ..."

She struggled again to get to Harry, but he would not release his iron grip. "Listen to me. Waiting outside this building right now is a Death Eater who is very prominent and powerful in this community. Think, Granger, you know who he is."

Hermione stared around the room, wild, frantic with worry; her mind wouldn't focus. And then her eyes rested upon an insolent looking 'snake' standing in the far corner, watching her every move; she remembered suddenly what he had warned her earlier that evening. "Beware, Granger. There are more things that will be endangered this evening than just your reputation." She turned back to Snape.

"Malfoy," she said in a hush.

Snape nodded almost imperceptibly. "And believe me; you are - in no way - safe when it comes to the Death Eaters. You have already been noticed--"

"Because of you," Hermione said quietly.

Snape trembled slightly as if she had struck him. "Yes," he managed, then shook himself out of a sudden torpor. "Believe me ... Lucius would love nothing more than to get his hands on you. Especially dressed as you are."

Hermione looked down at her attire and shivered as the full weight of Snape's words sunk in. She looked slowly up at him in horror.

"You must not interfere, Miss Granger. No intrusion or all the efforts of those you have noticed watching here will be for nothing. And Mr. Potter will be dead. Do you understand me? NO interference."

She nodded a fraction and glanced quickly around the room. Suddenly, she looked up into his eyes, gleaming frightfully and crisply black. "I didn't believe it, you know."

"What?" he snapped.

She took a great breath. "That night when they ... showed me what you would do to me. I ... didn't believe it. You would never--"

"Don't be so certain," he snapped back, his eyes roaming her body. But despite his harsh words, there was something pained in his face. Something ashamed. She knew that he had tried to hide her from that terrible vision; he had tried to shut her out from the awful pain and hideous feelings that had come to her through him. And though she had watched in horror, tossing and whimpering in her sleep, she had known that he would not lay a hand on her like that. Never like that.

She could see the shame just behind his eyes and refused to let him wallow in it. "No, I'm certain." She reached a hand up to his arm and drew him down into the two chairs pulled away from the table just behind them. Once seated and their eyes level, she drew her chair close to him, her face close to the shadow cast over his eyes by the deep, stiff hood of his cloak. She raised a hand to his face and laid her fingertips gently against his cheek.

"You wouldn't hurt me. I know that," she said quietly. She was only dimly away of the clattering noise surrounding them as the dance raged on.

All she was aware of now was his hand, coming around her waist and pulling her closer, his voice, silky and smooth as his mouth- only centimeters apart from hers - muttered, "You look stunning ..." he managed before she had thrust her lips upon his.

Her hands clasped his cloak and drew him closer as her lips hungrily took his. She felt his tongue stroke into her mouth and warm her as it explored impatiently. His hands clasped across her back and she was forced into his lap, so zealous were his hands pushing her closer. She felt the heat of his body warm on hers despite the cold tingles of the errant drops of rain on his cloak. Her hands wrapped inside the hood and clasped around his neck, lacing into his hair at the nape. His right hand, the only thing extending out from the shadows they were sitting in, danced down to her thigh, where he clasped her leg tightly, his fingers threading through the spaces in her stockings. The curtain of her hair dropped down in front of her face, cutting out the light that had been reaching her eyelids. There was only him now. The hot slick lips against hers, the cold tip of his long hooked nose, tracing rain-wet trails across her cheeks as he kissed her.

Had she looked up just then, Hermione would have noticed the faintly bemused expression on Ron Wealsey's face as he was making his way to the corner where they were sitting. He was far enough away that she had not noticed him, and yet, as he stood watching the pair kiss hungrily, a smile glazed his face.

Ron saw the dark form of the man with Hermione in his lap. The man who was now obviously kissing Hermione was completely covered with his cloak, with the exception of the protruding hooked nose. Ron smiled as he remembered back to how proud he was of the appearance-altering charm he had done on Harry and remarked, now that he was looking at it, that the nose was even more authentic than he had thought previously.

A small swooping sensation hit Ron as he stood watching the pair kiss. He then smiled briefly and said, genuinely happy, "Well done, Harry," mutely to the still-kissing couple.

Harry's voice came from just behind Ron's shoulder. "Thanks ... what've I done?"

Ron turned, completely incredulous, to regard where the voice had come from. As he turned, he noticed Harry, costumed as Snape, standing behind him and grinning vaguely. Yet, when he turned back to where he had been gazing into the corner, there again, he was certain he saw Harry dressed as Snape.

Unless ...

It couldn't be ...

She wouldn't dare ...

Not after she'd promised. He would have been certain, from the way she had been acting, that it would never happen again.

But there she was ...

Anger rose up, hot and strong in Ron's throat and he couldn't control it as he watched the two break away from the kiss.

"You promised," he said quietly, his voice full of venom. "And I take you up on it."

****

"Stop," Snape whispered hoarsely. When she still made to hold onto him, his voice came clear and bruisingly insistent. "Stop now!"

Hermione stammered as he hoisted her to her feet. "What? What's wrong? I thought I ... we..."

Snape snatched at his cloak, replacing the hood as he straightened up and glanced around. "This cannot happen, do you understand me? Haven't you been hurt enough as a result of this fascination with me? I shall not suffer this anymore and neither shall you! It is far too dangerous. And stupid," he added as an afterthought. He swept away a few feet and noticed Ron and Harry watching from near the bar.

Snape strode up to Harry, his stride jerky and stiff, and curtly snapped, "Mr. Potter, a word outside. Now." Following this ultimatum, he strode to the door and pushed through it without looking back.

Hermione looked from Snape's retreating back to Harry and Ron. Complete confusion painted Harry's expression and Hermione saw an angry red blush rising on Ron's face.

He knows ...

Hermione looked again to the door that Snape had just exited and took off after him, her heart hammering in her throat. Ron growled something unintelligible to Harry and followed Hermione shortly. Harry stared, dumbfounded, for a moment before setting off after them.

In the back corner of the bar, a small auburn haired girl led a parade of a round teen wolf, a lanky pink-haired girl, Mr. T and a surly looking tabby out the back door.

****

Snape leaned against the far corner wall of Three Broomsticks, waiting for Harry to accompany him. He took a few steadying breaths, assuring himself that he and Dumbledore had planned the interception to perfection. Nothing will happen to Potter ... Dumbledore will come before Lucius can have time to ...

Snape sighed again heavily. "Where is that idiot boy?" he heard himself grouse.

Precisely at that moment, Hermione whisked out the door of the bar, shivering in the cold rain against which she had no defense, as she had not picked up her cloak. She looked in several directions hurriedly - he could only assume she was looking for him. Before she could glance in his direction, however, Weasley stormed out the front door and grabbed her wildly by the arm. He began dragging her quickly down the road back towards Hogwarts.

Weasley was moving at such a pace that, as Snape had been standing nearly fifty feet away, he knew he could not apprehend them in time to execute his proper plan. Just as he was thinking of Apparating after them, Harry stumbled out the door and into Snape. With a quick muttered, "Excuse me, Professor," Harry started to run after them, his face clearly nervous with concern at Ron's anger. Ron's angered bellowing could still be heard in the distance, some 100 yards away.

Snape intercepted him quickly. "Not just now, Potter. You're coming with me."

In an uncharacteristic gesture of complete anger, Harry snapped, "Let me go you greasy bastard, I'm after my friends and you've done enough already."

Snape ground down on Harry's upper arm and hoisted him around towards the path they were meant to follow. Severus's pulse picked up just a bit when he heard the pop! that signaled the Order's transfigurations from their costumes back into their normal states. Time is wasting ...

Snape dragged Harry along towards the tiny glint of light a few yards away that was Lucius's wand tip. "You won't meddle any more, Potter," he said, marching along, his voice too heavy for his throat. "We have plans for you ..."

Harry looked up into Snape's eyes furiously but his voice caught in his throat as a Death Eater came into view. Harry's eyes scanned the plain black cloak in search of some identifying feature, but needed none as he heard an all-too-familiar voice. "Welcome Mr. Potter. We have a private soirée all planned, just for you."

Snape felt Harry struggle against his arm, but he forced a laugh in time with Lucius's low cackle.

"Shall we take him then?"

Snape nodded and snapped to the words he had rehearsed. "In a moment. I want to check and make sure that doddering old fool still trusts the students enough to leave them be."

< style="text-indent: 0.00mm; text-align: left; line-height: 4.166667mm; color: Black; background-color: White; "> Lucius nodded but as Severus made to stroll back to the Three Broomsticks -to gaze in the windows as a measure of 'checking for Dumbledore' he heard Lucius's voice come clear and cold again. "Perhaps you could bring along a little plaything we've all seen so much of ..."

Severus mustered every amount of willpower he had to plaster a trademark sneer on his face as he went back in the direction of the Three Broomsticks. Speak of Miss Granger again that way, you low vermin you, and I'll--

But just as the thoughts had occurred to him, he pivoted around to see Albus Dumbledore standing a few feet away. Severus's heart soared with renewed hope that the plan may work after all, but he allowed none of it to show on his face.

"Severus," Dumbledore called, McGonagall hot on his heels, "how good to see you! I had just received a rather perturbed owl from Madam Rosmerta, expressing that the seventh years were getting a bit rowdy and wondered if I'd come down to check. But I see, she must have owled you as well. Good to see you responding so promptly--" Dumbledore trailed off in mid-sentence - as had been agreed - when he and Minerva had gotten close enough to see Malfoy (now uncloaked and in full dress) holding Harry.

"Lucius," McGonagall acknowledged, inclining her head politely but coldly. "What brings you out this evening? And with Mr. Potter?"

Lucius looked distinctly ruffled as Severus turned to regard him. "I had come to have a word with Mr. Potter regarding something Draco complained about from his Potions lessons," he answered, his voice containing no hitch to belie his nervousness. He inclined his head to Snape, intending to explain his presence as well.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore questioned. Snape nodded stiffly. "Well, Severus and I will deal with the matter directly during lessons tomorrow. As it is, until such time, Harry you are restricted to Minerva's watchful eye. Come Harry, it is not safe out alone these days."

Dumbledore extended his hand to Harry who quite quickly caught on and followed the two professors into the Three Broomsticks. As soon as they had crossed the threshold, Severus swore in a biting rant of "meddling old fool!"

Lucius clapped a hand on Severus's shoulder, which, to Snape's great relief, was filled with a reassuring camaraderie. "Don't fret, Severus, he'll get his. I'll make sure of that. In the meantime, I shall report to the Dark Lord as to this turn of events. You had better make yourself seen."

Snape nodded and stood stalwartly until Lucius had Apparated away. The instant he disappeared, Severus's legs went slightly wobbly with relief. Had this night gone wrong, Potter would not be the only corpse on Dumbledore's hands. Not that that really mattered to him anymore, but if he were to die ...

Snape's thoughts strayed to Hermione. She had looked so ... stunning this evening.

Like a wizard cracker being pulled, Snape snapped to attention as he remembered what had transpired just before he had dragged Potter away. Weasley ... furious and dragging Granger in the direction of the castle. That could mean no good ... No good at all. He had seen that look on many faces before, and they had all been Death Eaters. Weasley was not to be trusted.

Severus practically galloped to back to the Three Broomsticks to inform Dumbledore that he was heading back to the castle.

****