To Make Much of Time

The band had only just begun to play, but every minute of the Ball felt like an eternity to Snape. Every peal of the herald trumpets produced another couple with the girl in an elaborate Christmas fairy princess elf costume and the young man in a black mask and dull suit. Soon, the Great Hall was flooded with winged, sparkling adolescent females and gobsmacked boys, struck dumb at the sight of all the glittering skin on display. The band was playing an odd mix of rock and polka, and the children were dancing up a storm. It was exactly what Minerva had wished.

Flitwick and Sprout were at the entrance taking tickets, and Snape was not at all surprised to see that the vast majority of the public were adult males, eager to consort with the nubile virgins at Hogwarts. Snape wasn't sure who was worse, those who were there at Umbridge's urging, or those who were there for their own purposes.

He was satisfied to see the Minster of Magic and Senior Undersecretary seated at tables specially raised to afford the best view of the proceedings. The Minister wore no costume, but Umbridge had abandoned her customary jumper for a gown of pink satin, which was tied awkwardly with matching pink ribbons. Snape tried not to look too closely and instead opted to scan the room again.

He heard a low whisper behind him. "Contrabasso!"

He spun around to find a woman in a lovely green gown standing behind him, accompanied by a knight in full armor. Her face was covered by a green satin mask and a fortune's worth of emeralds glittered at her throat and in her hair, but the thick plait down her back and dagger at her waist left no doubt as to her identity.

"Miss Granger," he said, shocked and delighted to find that his voice had returned to normal. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She gave him a half smile. "Merely to wish you a good evening and a pleasant Ball."

Snape snorted. "I'm hardly in danger of that."

"You never know," she said, eyes traveling audaciously from his head to his toes and back again. Her companion took her arm and began to escort her to the dance floor.

Arrogant chit. "Miss Granger?"

She turned to face him, blue eyes sparkling merrily. "Yes, sir?"

"You would do well to be on guard tonight," he said, moving his lips as little as possible, praying the Headmistress wasn't watching them. "There is more to this gathering than meets the eye. When the trap closes, be sure you're not caught in its teeth."

She stared at him in unflattering amazement for a moment, then covered it with a quick smile. "I'll be sure to do that, sir," she said at last. "As you can see," she said, tugging on the armored figure's elbow, "I am not helpless this evening."

"Yes. Usually, you're about as helpless as the Whomping Willow," he growled.

Her musical laughter lingered even as she walked away.

Snape's gaze followed her. There was something not quite right. And then it hit him. Miss Granger had brown eyes, not blue. He began elbowing his way through the crowd, seeking the woman in green and her silent companion.

"Any sight of them yet, Hermione?" asked Alan, when they had evaded Professor Snape.

"None," she said ruefully. "Not that I can see very well through this bloody thing."

"I suspect that's part of the point of a fancy dress function," said Alan philosophically. "If nobody can see, they're a lot less picky about their partners. Oh dear."

"What is it?"

"Your professor's figured something's amiss. He's headed toward us."

"Damn. What gave it away?"

"I told you the silver would have suited me better than the green," pouted Alan.

"But the green suited me," said Hermione sternly, "and that's who you're supposed to be this evening."

"Well, no matter how he figured it out, it's time to face the music," said Alan with a sigh.

"I'd rather face Professor Snape," said Hermione. "Have you heard that nonsense they're playing up front?"

Alan's chuckle was interrupted by a hiss from Professor Snape, who had seized Alan's arm.

"All right, you imposter. Who are you, and what have you done with Miss Granger?"

"Do you mean physically, or only in my mind?" quipped Alan.

Sensing that Professor Snape was in no mood for jokes, Hermione lifted her visor slightly.

"He hasn't done anything with me," she said. "I'm right here."

He squinted at her suspiciously. "Then who's this?"

"It's Robin Hood's minstrel, Alan a Dale. He's a friend."

He looked from one to the other, frowning. "What on earth have you done to your voices?"

"Alan helped me figure out the counterspell to Balfour Blane's curse. We've found it's quite useful for disguises."

"Yes, I'd noticed that my sneer is what it once was," Professor Snape commented drily. "Which leads me to the question of why you are both in disguise."

"You said to beware of getting caught in the trap," said Hermione.

"It seems as if my warning was superfluous," he said darkly.

"Not at all," said Hermione with feeling. "It means we have one more person to fight alongside us when the time comes."

"What makes you think I'm amenable to doing any such thing?"

She gripped his forearm with a gauntleted hand. "You went to the Ministry and found out what was going on, and you told me what was happening. I won't forget that."

With that, Hermione swept her jewel-bedecked date off to the dance floor.

Snape retreated to the periphery of the crowd where he had an unobstructed view of the entire Hall. The dance floor was a mass of writhing adolescents, and the pheromones in the air were palpable. Alan and Granger were doing some type of folk dance, and the newcomers were mingling on the outside, attempting to catch the eyes of the girls who possessed the shapeliest legs and bosoms.

Suddenly, he spotted a cascade of cornsilk tresses out of the corner of his eye. Only a Malfoy could sport hair that immaculate. To his surprise, Malfoy had strapped himself into a high-necked but form-fitting gown covered from neck to toe in sparkling beads. Snape was shocked to realize that it was highly effective. If he hadn't previously seen that cruel smirk devoid of scarlet paint, he might have been taken in. Indeed, a number of Hogwarts boys were staring at Malfoy's tightly corseted figure, and one of the braver Ravenclaw lads had actually asked him to dance. Malfoy accepted with a throaty chuckle.

He spotted Theodore Nott in elaborate pirate garb by the punch bowl, attracting no small number of interested looks from the Hogwarts girls. He had yet to find MacNair, since a number of those dressed as men, Hermione and the Headmistress included, were sporting bladed weapons. He caught the Headmistress's eye and nodded toward Nott. She nodded in return, gripping the hilt of her sword so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

He turned his gaze to Flitwick and Sprout. Sprout noticed his anxious look and held up five fingers at Snape. He shook his head in disgust. Nott, Malfoy, MacNair and two others were there to take on a single teenaged girl. Still, he had to admit to himself that Miss Granger was hardly an average teenaged girl.

Alan a Dale's musical laugh rang out over the crowd as the music ended and Miss Granger lifted him over her head. All eyes turned to the couple in green and silver, and Nott grinned. He flicked his eyes in Malfoy's direction, who nodded. Snape managed to spot two of the other confederates, who were dressed in similar white flowing garments. Snape immediately identified them as siblings Amyctus and Alecto Carrow. He still saw no sign of MacNair.

When the music started again, the four Death Eaters began their inexorable journey toward the figure in green. As if sensing the danger, Hermione escorted Alan off the floor to the refreshment table.

Snape applauded her inwardly. Clever girl. The Death Eaters were forced to change course, and Snape was able to spot the fifth Death Eater, who was dressed as St. Nicholas. Snape could not see him clearly enough to identify him. Since the refreshment table was located directly under the Headmistress's watchful eye, Hermione and Alan were safe, for the time being. Snape seized his opportunity and whispered his findings in the Headmistress's ear.

She frowned, appearing even fiercer.

The back of his neck prickled, and he turned to find Hermione studying him with a curious mien. He walked over to her with his most disinterested expression firmly in place.

"What is it?"

"Hello to you, too." Her light baritone betrayed amusement.

"You were staring. One might think you were up to something."

"I was wondering if you'd found them all. I only found Malfoy and MacNair."

"Alecto and Amyctus are at six o'clock dressed in what appears to be burial shrouds, and there is a distinctly sinister Saint Nicholas at three o'clock. I strongly suspect that the bag he carries contains no candy or gingerbread."

"I think the Carrows are supposed to be angels," she said.

"Whatever they're supposed to be, the effect is ghastly."

"I suspect they waited too long to get their costumes. The Hogwarts girls are ruthless when it comes to getting their hands on flattering outfits, so I'm told."

"Where's your lovely lady?" Snape inquired with less venom than he intended.

"Gone to the ladies' room. Should I be worried?"

"Only if you expect to see him again tonight."

Hermione chuckled. "If I've lost the playboy of the western world, do you think I should ask Lucius Malfoy to dance?"

"Absolutely not!" said Snape angrily. "Do you think we organized this ridiculous event simply to have you throw yourself into danger?"

"I was joking, Professor," she said. The honorific made him start. He had half expected the friendly male voice to call him by his given name.

"Well, see that you don't," he snapped in response. "I'm in no mood this evening."

"You're in no mood ever," she retorted in an undertone.

Snape smirked in spite of himself. "You might find yourself surprised one day," he said, the rejoinder springing unbidden to his lips. To cover his slip, he swept off in Minerva's direction.

He found himself face to face with Kris Kringle.

"Snape," said a familiar voice. "I expected you'd be haunting the dungeons tonight, since you've no opportunities here."

"MacNair," he sneered. "I'm here tonight because I tired of encountering vermin in the dungeons. However, it seems as if I am destined to be plagued by cockroaches tonight."

MacNair's wand was clenched tightly in his fist, but he did not respond.

"Why, Walden!" exclaimed Snape with false admiration. "You've learned self-control! Don't tell me you're here in search of impressing some young lady with your gentility!"

"Hardly. I'm here to impress them with my genitalia," said MacNair with a lecherous grin. "There's nothing like a girl who's never had a real man before. Not that you would know, Snape."

Snape ignored the sudden chill he felt. "What are you blathering about?"

MacNair pulled out a piece of parchment with a list of names. "I've made a list and checked it twice," he said, stroking his white beard. "And it seems that you're in my 'naughty' column. That means you better watch out."

Snape refused to honor this statement with emotion of any sort. "I don't believe that Santa Claus or any of his helpers are capable of coming, to town or otherwise," he said with a sneer. "Try chatting up someone who hasn't witnessed you in action, or rather, your inaction."

MacNair only smirked. "Oh, I plan to, Snape. I plan to." He slithered into the mass of bodies on the dance floor.

Snape grinned inwardly. The idiot had brought the handwritten list that Dolores Umbridge had given him. If they could manage to keep MacNair and his co-conspirators from disappearing, they would have not only the serial rapists, but also concrete evidence implicating the Senior Undersecretary. However, great delicacy was required if the operation was to be successful.

He glanced over to the refreshment table, where Miss Granger was unsuccessfully drinking punch through a vent in her helm, to her date's great amusement. The band was coming back from its break, and Snape felt his shoulders tense. It was time for action.

As if sensing his thoughts, Hermione glanced in his direction and nodded. She held out her arm to Alan and led him to the very center of the dance floor. The band struck up some semblance of a waltz, and the dance began.

As Alan and Hermione whirled around the floor, the five Death Eaters moved inward, the Carrows together, Malfoy with a lovestruck Hufflepuff, and Nott with an enthusiastic sixth year. MacNair had disappeared again. It didn't help that his red velvet costume blended perfectly with the swaths of fabric lining the Great Hall.

Alan's head was thrown back with seemingly reckless abandon, but Snape could clearly see Hermione assume the fighting stance that he'd seen her take before attacking the goblins with two weapons. Alan whirled around her, green dress flying, making it appear as if Hermione's position were part of their dance.

Suddenly, Alecto and Amyctus appeared on either side of Alan.

Nott stepped between them and said to Alan, "May I cut in?"

Before Hermione could respond, Malfoy seized her arm. "I've been waiting for a dance with you all evening, sir knight," he said in an unconvincing falsetto.

Alecto and Amyctus seized Alan's arms and began to drag him off the dance floor. He struggled prettily, and Snape smirked at the bard's act.

Hermione, however, flung Malfoy's hand from her arm. "Begone, strumpet!" she bellowed. "Fiends, what are you doing with my lady?"

Malfoy stepped back, startled by the short knight's violent reaction. "You insult me, sir!" he exclaimed. "I will not tolerate such words from a callow youth with not even a season's whiskers on his chin!"

The altercation was beginning to gather spectators, and the band had ceased playing.

"Save me!" cried Alan, in a player's cry that pierced the din around him.

Hermione drew her sword with one hand and brandished her wand with the other. "Release her, or feel the sting of my blade, if you're lucky. If you're unlucky, I shall curse you."

Malfoy drew his own wand. "My dear sir knight," he said in a patronizing tone. "Put that thing away before you harm yourself."

Snape could picture the fury that must have been etched on her face. She lunged at Malfoy, who leaped neatly out of her attack range.

"You see, my dear boy, that attack fell far short because you're neither as fast nor as accurate as a real swordsman would be."

"I wasn't aiming for you," said Hermione, her smirk audible in her voice.

As if to emphasize her statement, Malfoy's wand let out a tired spurt of sparks. Hermione had cleanly cut off the tip.

He stared at her incredulously. "Who are you?"

"I'm the Falcon," she growled.

"The Falcon," he repeated in the most mocking tone he could muster in the face of three feet of sharpened steel. "And what is such a bird to me?"

"Aurors!" came a shrill voice from above. "Arrest that man!" Dolores Umbridge was pointing her finger accusingly at Hermione.

"What are you on about?" yelled Alan, shaking his abductors on either arm. "I'm being kidnapped over here!"

"I've no interest in your little love games, Miss Granger," said Umbridge primly. "This man is an active resistor of Ministry policy, and he will be taken into custody."

"You may have no interest in an assault on one of my students," spat the Headmistress, "but I will have none of it. Unhand Miss Granger this instant!"

Alecto, Nott, and Amyctus looked at one another in confusion, unsure of what to do next.

Before realizing what was happening Snape felt a cold blade slide under his chin. MacNair.

"I think this visit from Saint Nicholas is over," said MacNair, pressing the blade to Snape's throat. "And if any of you fools cares a lick for this traitor's life, you'll let us go peacefully."

"Dolores!" whispered the Minister frantically. "I think these men are the rogue Death Eaters who've been attacking the girls! Isn't that Walden MacNair?"

"Shut your mouth," snarled Umbridge.

The Minister recoiled from her harsh tone, unable to find the words necessary to respond.

"That's what I thought," gloated MacNair, dragging Snape with him as he joined his comrades near the door. "Any of you move, this piece of dung gets what's coming to him."

"Walden, wait!" called Malfoy, still held at swordpoint. "What about me?"

"What about you?" asked MacNair. "Have fun with your new admirer." At last, he rejoined the Carrows and Nott and glared at the assembly, who were watching the proceedings in horrified fascination. "As for the rest of you ladies, your fancy costumes don't fool us. We know that beneath it all, you're all begging for it, and we'll find each and every one of you one day." With this ominous proclamation, MacNair reached out to his fellows and put a hand on Amyctus's halo. "So long, flobberworm brains!" called Alecto. They all grinned horribly, then closed their eyes in anticipation.

But nothing happened.

Nott was the first to open his eyes and realize that they were still in the Great Hall. "Oh, bugger," he breathed.

And then all hell broke loose.

Alan a Dale yanked his arms from his captors' grips with a triumphant yell. He pulled a set of daggers from sheaths concealed by his bell sleeves and slashed wickedly at the Carrows. They screeched as their white robes were spattered with their own blood.

Hermione chose this moment to slash at Lucius Malfoy from throat to foot. He shrieked as his dress fell away, revealing for all those assembled to see that he was wearing no knickers with his corset.

She left him attempting to shield his private parts from the furious young men who had sought his hand that evening. She shoved her way through the dense crowd to get over to Alan and Professor Snape.

The Headmistress was bellowing instructions from her podium and shooting Stunning Spells into the crowd at anyone who attempted to add to the chaos. The Minister looked on in mute horror, eyes darting back and forth between the bedlam and his furious Undersecretary, who was unsuccessfully attempting to undo the Headmistress's spells.

MacNair edged toward the main doors, but Snape was successfully slowing him down, though his neck suffered a number of shallow scrapes and nicks from the Death Eater's blade.

Hermione had reached Nott, whom she distracted with a dramatic flourish of her sword and promptly stunned with the wand in her left hand. When she had incapacitated Nott, she spun around, frantically seeking Professor Snape and MacNair. Frustrated, she lifted the visor of her helm to get a better look.

When she revealed her face, two things happened. Umbridge let out a shriek of rage, and MacNair tossed Snape aside. He pointed his sword at her, grinning ghoulishly.

"So, the chit thinks to oppose me," he remarked. "You should save yourself the trouble and come with me now. Unless you want to resist; I like that, too."

Hermione grinned fiercely and lowered her visor again. "So much talking," she remarked. "If you think you can touch me, you're welcome to try."

MacNair swung his sword hard from over his shoulder. Even in full armor, Hermione was able to step quickly out of the cut's path. He swung again, this time at the top of her head. She neatly sidestepped his blow. Finally, he swung his sword at hers, attempting to knock it out of her hand.

"Come now," she said scornfully. "Attacking a closed line?"

"Hold still, damn you," growled MacNair. He flung out his sword arm and charged at Hermione. She parried his flesche and neatly cut the fur cuff from his off sleeve.

"A palpable hit?" she asked, spinning the ermine circle on the tip of her blade.

MacNair spun around, breathing hard. He had neither inclination nor breath to respond verbally. Instead, he dropped into an obviously ill-practiced en garde and began advancing and retreating, playing the distance between himself and Hermione.

He lunged, and she parried him firmly. He was barely able to avoid her riposte, and in the process, lost his footing and tumbled to the ground.

She turned him over roughly with her foot and placed the point of her sword on his throat.

"Do you yield?"

MacNair glared at her. She stuck her blade against his face and yanked the false beard from his face.

"Do you yield?"

"Hermione, for the love of all that's holy," called Alan, exasperated. "Finish him and have done with it!"

Hermione raised her sword. "For the last time, do you yield?"

He spat at her feet. Hermione made a sudden slash across MacNair's abdomen. He cried out loudly, but quieted when he realized that Hermione had only incised his false belly. Goose feathers floated gently in the air.

"Petrificus Totalis! I hope you're allergic to goosedown."

She turned to find that Alan a Dale had knocked Amyctus unconscious and Professor Snape had Stunned Alecto. Relieved to find the situation under control, she turned to the Headmistress, who was holding Dolores Umbridge at the point of her enormous two-handed sword.

She raised her visor to scan the surroundings. Then Nott stabbed her from behind.

Snape saw the flash of metal a moment too late. He attempted to run to her, but tripped over Alecto and fell. As he struck the ground, he saw Hermione crumple to the ground, cutlass protruding from the space between her spaulder and cuirass.

Alan a Dale cried out and ran to her side. The crowd closed in around them, and he couldn't see her. Amid the chaos, he felt a rough wand tip press to the back of his neck.

"Petrificus Totalis!" He felt a burning sensation where the wand had touched him. His body stiffened. He lay face down on the floor immobile and unable to see anything but several pairs of feet standing in front of him. Strong hands grasped his ankles and dragged him out of the fray, nose knocking painfully against the seams in the stone floor. He caught whiff of floral perfume. Lucius.

He was yanked upright and propped against the wall behind a large swath of bunting. Malfoy pressed himself against Snape, fists grasping the front of his robes. Cold gray eyes stared at him from behind the mask, and his lipstick was smeared.

"Tonight, I wished to take satisfaction from one of my family's greatest enemies," Malfoy hissed in his ear. "However, there has been an unfortunate change of plans, and I'm forced to settle for you. Still, one virgin arse is very much like another, especially under Petrificus." For the second time in as many days, Snape's clothes were removed violently. However, this man meant business, and he was helpless to resist. Snape's shout for help emerged from his petrified throat as a strangled whimper.

"There, there, Severus," Malfoy purred, smoothing his hair back from his face. "It'll only hurt for ten, twenty minutes at most."

Snape closed his eyes, the only part of his body he could still control, and braced himself. Malfoy positioned himself against Snape's posterior, then all went black.