Chapter 8

This Time

Chapter 8

There is a darkness deep in you

A frightening magic I cling to

You're All I Have - Snow Patrol

The days passed, the temperature dropped, and the pumpkins in Hagrid's patch reached enormous proportions. At breakfast, the week before Halloween, the Headmaster rose to address the students.

'Following our Halloween Feast this year, we will have a Masked Ball.'

A thrill of excitement ran through the females in the room, and Severus exchanged a long-suffering look with his mates.

'Madam Malkin will be here on Halloween night, with several representatives in each House. Those of you who wish to participate need only to visit Madam Malkin's associates to obtain your costumes and masks, which will be tailored to your personality and are guaranteed to disguise your identity. The traditional unmasking will take place at midnight, and the ball will then conclude at one o'clock.'

Neville poked at his eggs. 'I can't decide if that's a good thing or not,' he muttered.

Jared glanced down the table at Hermione, who was chattering animatedly with Ginny, and Severus followed his gaze.

'I think it's a good thing,' Jared said tentatively. 'It's a chance to get close to someone without them knowing who you are...to make a good impression with someone who might not give you a chance.'

Dean leant towards them, away from Parvati, who was whispering and giggling with Lavender. 'But how will we know which girl is which?' he whispered. 'What if you mean to talk to one girl, and by mistake you spend the night talking to the wrong one?'

Neville turned a concerned face to his roommate. 'I hadn't thought of that,' he admitted. 'I guess the blokes with girlfriends will have it even worse than the blokes without...think of the trouble you'd be in for dancing with the wrong girl all night ...'

Dean looked horrified at the notion, but Severus snorted in disgust. 'It would serve them all right if we stay in and play Knut-ante Wizard's Sweat,' he said.

Neville brightened. 'I'll do it if you do, Adin,' he said determinedly.

Severus slanted a glance at the round-faced Longbottom, of whom he had become rather protectively fond in the last two months. 'But you want a girlfriend,' he pointed out. 'This would be the perfect time for you to chat up a girl without worrying that you'll say the wrong thing. She won't know who you are...you can be anyone you want to be for a few hours.'

Neville's eyes grew contemplative as Severus spoke, and Severus couldn't help but be drawn by his own words. It was just one night ... for just one night, he could be just any other seventeen-year-old boy out for an adventure with a willing girl. That wouldn't be interference, would it? A bit of snogging never hurt anyone...and he could leave before the unmasking...then neither he nor the girl would ever know who the other was.

'What's the harm in that?' he said to Neville, but his eyes had wandered again to Hermione.

Four representatives of Madam Malkin's who had set up shop in the Gryffindor common room by the time they returned from the feast on Halloween night, and Severus allowed himself to be bullied into queuing up with his mates for a costume. The room was cleverly subdivided, separating the girls from the boys so they could hide their identities from one another if they wished.

Severus was torn between feeling excited and ridiculous. In his previous incarnation as a seventeen-year-old boy, he would never have participated in something like this...but he had been a completely different person then. Poor, ugly, greasy, scorned by the girl he loved, universally unpopular, and the favourite target of the two biggest bullies in his year, he had done his best to keep his head down. The situations were now was poles apart...he had the gold for decent things, his looks were improved by the simple expedient of improved hygiene products, he was a member of the Quidditch team, had mates, and was no one's punching bag.

And there was no harm in taking one night off from fretting over the Dark Mark Curse, right?

'Right,' he said aloud, giving Neville's shoulder a shove. 'Go in, mate,' he said. 'You're next.'

Neville stepped into the tent-like structure, and Severus looked back at Dean. 'A Galleon says he gets his first snog tonight,' he said.

Dean grinned and shook his hand. 'You're on, mate...but I'm warning you, he's liable to throw up if he tries to kiss a girl. Our man Neville is a bit of a wuss.'

'Do you have a plan for meeting up with Parvati?' Severus asked curiously.

'No, we've agreed to just enjoy the ball,' Dean said, his face slightly troubled. 'But what if she meets some bloke she likes better than me?'

Severus shrugged. 'Then you'll meet a girl you like better,' he said.

Dean nodded towards the tent. 'You're up, Adin,' he said.

Severus turned back and saw that the door to the tent had been raised again, and he entered. Two well-dressed young men nodded to him courteously.

'May I take your measurements, sir?' the first one asked.

'I suppose so,' Severus answered, watching the magical measuring tape, which began to measure his arms, legs, fingers, ears, chest, waist, wrapped about his head as if measuring for a hat, and finished by measuring from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his heel.

'Excellent, sir,' the clerk said. He turned to his helper. 'Number eleven,' he said.

The helper turned to a wardrobe, tapped it once with his wand, and produced the evening garments of an eighteenth century gentleman, including a dark green brocade coat with heavy silver lace, a silver waistcoat, matching knee breeches, clocked silver stockings, and buckled shoes. The silver mask would cover his face, save for his lips and chin; it was attached to a man's wig from the time period, powdered and curled.

He turned his eyes doubtfully to the first clerk. 'Are you sure?' he asked.

'If sir will allow?' the clerk said, raising his wand.

'Yeah, all right,' Severus said doubtfully. He would either look like a prat or a prince, he supposed, and his clever play on words made him snort in amusement.

With an elaborate flick of his wand, the clerk dressed Severus completely in the ensemble.

The clerk stepped aside, and Severus stared at his reflection in the mirror, seeing a tall, elegantly attired man in a silver mask. He looked ... good.

'The mask will disappear at midnight,' the clerk explained. 'If, for some reason, you must remove the mask before then, return to us. The costume will disappear at one o'clock, and you'll find yourself again in your own clothing. Any questions, sir?'

Severus turned away from his reflection. 'No,' he said.

'Then you may take the lift to the Entrance Hall,' the second clerk said, leading the way behind the wardrobe to a waiting lift. 'Especially installed for the ball,' he explained. 'They'll disappear when the costumes do.'

Severus stepped into the lift, which was only large enough for one person wearing a coat as bulky as his, and stepped out again into the entrance hall. He blinked once when he saw the milling crowd of costumed figures; there were knights, pirates, soldiers and sailors, kings and queens, princes and princesses, djinns and genies, geishas and ninjas, ladies and gentlemen from every era, and others he could not begin to identify. The most mystifying thing was that he recognised no one, save the teachers, who were not in costume. Almost immediately, he found that he had stopped thinking of people by name and had begun thinking only by costume designation.

He moved towards the doors into the Great Hall, eyeing up the girls in the most revealing costumes as he went by. A Polynesian girl in grass skirt and coconut bra gave him a saucy wink before turning and walking away from him, and he was following her when a naval officer from the Napoleonic era bumped into an Arabian genie, causing her to drop the lipstick she held. The officer apologised, and the genie bent to pick up her lipstick ...and the harem pants she wore revealed the edge of a gryphon tattoo.

Saucy Polynesian girls were wiped from his mind as he advanced on the girl with the gryphon tattoo; he'd jinx the naval bloke, if necessary, to get her away from him.

The genie held up her compact as he paused at her shoulder and said, 'It's a nice colour, but you don't need it.' Severus started...whose voice was that? It didn't sound like him.

The genie looked up at him, her lips forming an "o" of surprise.

He smiled down at her, noting the intricate tracings of garnet filigree through her golden sunburst mask, and the waist-length silky black hair falling down her back. 'It might not be safe,' he said.

'Why?' she asked, and though he strained to identify her voice, he could not.

'Because your lips are already far too kissable,' he said, lowering his voice so that only she could hear him.

She seemed lost for words for a moment, then a smile curved those kissable lips. 'You're a bold one, aren't you?'

He bowed to her. 'I am your humble servant,' he corrected her. 'May I escort you into the ball?'

The genie's eyes danced behind her mask, and though he tried to discern their colour, he could not. 'All right,' she said, slipping her hand into the crook of the elbow he offered to her.

Severus walked with her into the Great Hall, relieved to see that Dumbledore had procured a better orchestra for this function. All around them, strangers in exotic costumes looked at one another with wondering curiosity, asking questions, laughing, trying to identify one another.

'Are you enjoying yourself?' he asked the genie, trying to keep his mind off her bottom and the gryphon tattoo.

'Perhaps,' she said coquettishly. 'Ask me again later.'

He grinned at her. 'Is that a challenge?' he asked.

'Oh, yes,' she said, and she did not pull away when he raised her hand to his lips.

'I accept your challenge, Genie,' he said solemnly, then he pressed his lips to the soft skin below her knuckles. He felt her fingers flex lightly in his hold, and her lips parted, her tongue darting out to moisten them.

Circe's knickers! he thought, feeling his cock twitch. The girl is sensuality incarnate...

The orchestra began to play, and Dumbledore led McGonagall out to dance, thus opening the ball.

'May I keep this hand for this dance?' he asked the genie with half a smile, exhilarating anonymity liberating him, allowing him to say and do things he never would have done otherwise.

'Yes,' she breathed.

Determined to be a gentleman...for the first bit, anyway...Severus took her hand and placed the other very properly at her waist, beginning to dance with her. She seemed a bit unsure at first, as if she were watching the steps of the dance, and he liked her for the uncertainty, for it made him feel more sure of himself. If nothing else, he could dance creditably, thanks to his friendship with Lucius...but no, he wouldn't think of that, not now! He fought back the tears that rose in his eyes at the memory of his lost friend, raising his eyes momentarily to the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall to hide their over-brightness. The genie tightened her hold on his hand and stepped closer to him. Feeling calmer again, he looked down into her upraised face, and the smile curving her lips fairly took his breath away with its sweetness. They did not speak as they danced, simply looked at one another as if in silent communion of thoughts too tenuous to speak. When the dance came to a close, he released her regretfully.

'Must I lose your company now?' he asked, expecting any moment that another cavalier would come to dance with the enchanting genie.

She dipped her head, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. 'Is that any way to win our challenge?' she asked.

He felt as if his smile split his face, and he recaptured her hand, pulling it through his arm. 'I shall win our challenge by giving you your heart's desire,' he told her, 'which surely includes a glass of Madam Rosmerta's honey mead.'

Her little trill of laughter seemed to skitter over his skin like ringing bells. 'Oh, yes,' she agreed, 'surely it does.'

They picked up glasses of honey mead, and though he offered to sit with her at a table, she preferred to walk about the edge of the room, watching the other costumed students dance.

'Do you see anyone you know?' she asked him, when they paused for a moment.

He took her empty goblet and set it with his on an abandoned table.

'I see someone I very much want to know,' he answered, moving closer to her.

'You're an accomplished flirt,' she accused him with narrowed eyes.

Feeling that it was a night for extravagant gestures, and confident that no one, least of all his genie, knew who he was, he went down on one knee before her. 'I swear to you that I am not, Madam Genie,' he declared solemnly. 'I have no skill at all in flirtation...but I do want to know you.'

The current song ended, and she glanced from side to side, as if expecting to find an audience watching them. 'Get up,' she said, reaching down to grab his hand and give it a tug.

Obediently, he stood, and he smiled at her. 'No one is watching us,' he told her, stepping close again. 'Everyone is involved in their own intrigue, tonight.'

'Then dance with me,' she said as a soft, slow song began, moving into his arms and placing both hands upon his shoulders.

'As you desire,' he said, putting his arms around her.

She surprised him by moving closer, pressing her cheek to the brocade of his coat and tilting her chin up to look into his eyes.

He held her close for that dance, and the next, and the one after, pleased that the orchestra seemed to divine the mood in the air that night, providing only the most romantic accompaniment for the dancers. He knew that they stopped to share drinks, that they sat at a table for a period of time, their fingers entwined, but time seemed to turn on its side, simultaneously telescoping and contracting, making the minutes fly by while still lasting an eternity. By the last dance set, one of her hands was clasped in his and held against his heart, her cheek pressed to the right side of his chest, her fingers beginning to stroke the back of his neck beneath his wig, igniting a slow burn in his blood. Soon, she had moved their hands to within a whisper of her lips, which she ghosted over the back of his hand, drawing an audible gasp from him.

'Stop,' he murmured, lowering his face until his lips ghosted over her ear. 'Stop, or I shall have to kiss you.'

Opening her eyes very wide, as if to make sure he was paying attention, she parted her lips and pressed them very deliberately to his hand, and desire for her flooded through his body like molten magma.

With her hand clasped in his, he led the way from the dance floor, glancing frequently down at her face, watching for any sign of objection from her, but he saw none. They moved into the Entrance Hall, where he removed his heavy brocade coat and held it out for her to slip on over her rather insubstantial harem garb. He drew her out into the cool autumn night onto the decorated lawn, where out-of-season rose gardens bloomed, created especially for this evening. Numerous masked couples walked amongst the roses, whilst others had melded into the shadows, two figures twined into one.

Severus tugged her down the lawn, past the rose bushes, to the display of man-sized jack-o-lanterns. He pulled her behind the largest one, and looked down into her face again.

'Are you enjoying yourself?' he demanded, hearing the roughness in his voice.

She swayed against him, her palms flattening on his chest, then sliding up to his shoulders. 'Almost,' she whispered, lifting her face invitingly, and Severus kissed her.

The masks were bothersome, and he had trouble finding the proper angle for his head, but his lips were on hers, his hands pressing her close to him, and the heat which had cooled on the walk outside flared instantly to liquid fire in his body.

Her breath was sweet, and her soft, pliable lips moved beneath his, each tiny nibble sending shock waves of lust pounding through him. Dear Merlin, but he wanted to taste her, and he tentatively parted his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue lightly over her mouth. She gasped, which made him feel insane with triumph, and then she opened her mouth, her little tongue darting out, stroking between his open lips, and he truly lost his mind. All but crushing her to him, he devoured her mouth, tasting her, breathing her, wishing he could inhale the essence of her, his prick instantly like iron in his trousers, throbbing with each flutter of her tongue into his mouth. He pressed her against the pumpkin, desperately wanting to touch her bottom, to know the contours of the derrière about which he had dreamt for two months, but he battled back the urge. Kisses...he had promised himself kisses this night, not full-scale groping ... Of course he hadn't thought he would end up with the girl with gryphon tattoo in his arms, either ...

She tilted her chin, breaking their kiss, and his lips travelled hungrily across her cheek, his teeth closing ever so lightly on the lobe of her perfectly formed ear.

'Are you enjoying yourself?' he demanded, trailing scorching kisses down her throat, wringing a little cry from her.

'Yes,' she gasped, pulling his lips back to hers. 'Yes, I am.'

His mouth claimed hers again, less gently this time, her response feeding his passion as surely as paraffin incites a flicker to a flame. She tripped his last hold on himself when her hands smoothed down his back, sliding over his bum.

All senses compressed into one need...to possess her utterly...and his hands followed the path hers had done until the cheeks of her bottom filled the palms of his hands, and he pulled her softness against his hardness.

A wave of magic passed between them, breaking their kiss, and they looked into each other's faces, dazed and disoriented. Then understanding dawned on her, and she said, 'Adin!'

Severus blinked, and the glaring reality of the situation burst upon him: His hands were holding Hermione Granger against his erection, as if he were going to drill her against the side of a pumpkin.

He released her, stepping back, horrified. He had planned to leave before midnight! He had never intended to be seen...to be known! He had wanted only to have a bit of flirtation, a bit of a snog, to have a few hours completely outside the context of himself...bugger the fact that he had, at the same time, secretly been aching to have this particular girl in his arms for what felt like an eternity ... What a cock-up. He'd hoped for an innocent spot of fun, and this was where it got him.

'Adin?' Hermione said, her hands outstretched, as if to pull him back to her.

Severus looked down at her, his desire and his torment, torn between walking away from her and burying himself in her. She was the girl with gryphon tattoo. All of his hopeless dreams and longings converged to one inescapable, shining point: Hermione.

'Adin?' Now she sounded fearful, her voice bordering on hurt. 'Did you ... did you not want to kiss me?'

Good God, of course he wanted to kiss her...had wanted to kiss her nearly from the moment he had been Sorted into her impossible House...and by Merlin, there was one more hour left of this night he had given himself to enjoy being seventeen...he would be the world's biggest fool to waste it.

'No one else but you,' he answered, catching her when she threw herself at him and pressing her back up against the pumpkin, his lips on the pulse of her throat, inhaling her scent as if she were his life's breath.