Thirty

The evening before the ball, after Hermione's last Potions lesson, she had known that they would be unable to be together. Severus and Professor McGonagall were entertaining the Minister for Magic and other notable guests who were arriving at Hogwarts for the celebrations. Afterwards, select members of staff, including him, were to walk the boundaries of the castle, ensuring security was at its tightest with whatever magic was necessary. The ball was to be a great event with many luminaries of the wizarding world in attendance. For several days now there had been a palpable buzz of excitement amongst the students and teachers alike. There had not been such a big celebration at the castle for as long as anyone could remember.

It was strange spending the night alone in her room in Gryffindor Tower. It was so rare that she was parted from him now that Hermione could not sleep for what seemed hours. Luckily, she did not have to get up early the next day, and was able to catch up on sleep in the morning.

She, Ginny and some others spent the early part of the afternoon charming the castle with elaborate decorations for the evening. They were in charge of the Gryffindor contribution, and by four o'clock much of the castle was festooned with red and gold streamers, flowers and banners. It looked magnificent and put the other houses' efforts to shame. Professor McGonagall, although she had relinquished the Headship of Gryffindor to Madam Hooch, still bore allegiance to her old house, and complimented them on their efforts with a genuine smile of gratitude and admiration.

After finishing the preparations, they all departed to get ready for the ball. Various dignitaries had been shown around the castle throughout the day, and the sense of anticipation mounted with each minute that passed.

Hermione had not seen Severus all day. The Slytherin decorations were subdued to say the least. The Slytherin pupils had clearly received little mentoring. Hermione could not prevent a small smirk escaping on seeing them; interior design was not her lover's forte.

The Gryffindor girls rushed back to their dorms to prepare. They had all been allowed to send for a dress from home. There was a rush on the bathrooms, but eventually all were able to prepare adequately. The number of charms they could use to beautify themselves for the evening had been limited, and Hermione noticed a ridiculous amount of Muggle make-up and perfume being thrown around.

She had managed to avoid Lawrence for most of the day, and in fact, had seen little of him since her trip to Edinburgh. She recalled Ginny's words: that he was biding his time until the ball. She sighed as she tamed her hair into lush, rich curls with the one charm she permitted herself to use for the evening. Lawrence had caught her just as she had disappeared into her room, saying that he would pick her up at seven o'clock.

The seventh years (and eighth years, Hermione thought ruefully) were to be allowed two glasses of wine each, or one of firewhisky. It was to be consumed with the meal, under the eye of the staff, and under no circumstances was there to be any other alcohol drunk anywhere else on the premises at any point. There were rumours of copious amount of booze having been smuggled in with concealment charms by the usual suspects, mostly Slytherins, but Hermione had seen little evidence of it.

Happy with her hair at last, Hermione walked to her wardrobe and opened the door. Her dress hung inside. She had treated herself to a trip to Harvey Nicholls in London, and spent some of the money she had earned from interviews on an exquisite designer gown. She knew it was extravagant, but she hardly ever spent anything on herself, and wanted to look her best for him. It was a deep red satin, shoulder-less gown, close fitting, clinging down to the ground, but with lacing behind which blended into a gathering of material at the small of her back, flowing behind her into a slight train. It was far more mature than any of the dresses she had seen on the other girls. She knew it would create an impact, but as long as Severus liked it, she didn't care what anyone else thought.

She applied a little more make-up than normal, especially around her eyes, placed her mother's necklace around her neck, and waited. It filled her with remorse to think that the first person to see her like this would be Lawrence Filmore. She desperately wanted Severus to come to her and cast his eyes upon her first.

At five to seven, there was a low but insistent knock on the door.

With a deep sigh, Hermione rose to answer it, trying to fix her face into a forced grin before opening the door.

Lawrence Filmore looked as if he would pass out when he laid eyes on her.

"Whoa! You look ..." He could not finish his sentence, merely exhaled in delighted amazement, his eyes unable to stop running up and down her body.

"What?" she forced him to continue tersely.

"Amazing."

"Thank you," she replied, remembering to smile. She must not be rude. It wasn't his fault he was the wrong person. "You look very fine yourself, Lawrence."

He did as well, she just couldn't care less. She felt slightly guilty that she was denying some horny eighteen-year-old girl a chance with him.

Lawrence stood nervously for a moment, running his fingers through his hair. He will go prematurely bald if he carries on like that, Hermione thought. She raised her eyebrows expectantly, as if to say, "Well, are we going then?"

With that he came to his senses and held his arm out for her. She took it with a private sigh and left her room.

They made their way to the Great Hall. They had been joined by Ginny, Harry and their other friends, and Hermione was grateful now to be in a big group where she could surreptitiously slip away from her partner more easily. By the time they reached the hall, she was several feet away from Lawrence.

The hall was buzzing with excitement and people. It had been enchanted with an extraordinary combination of a starry night and an additional canopy of snow-laden tree branches. On looking up, despite the lack of any clouds, there was a flutter of snow which kept tumbling down, tantalisingly close to their heads, but disappearing before reaching them, just like at the Yule Ball three years before. It was utterly beguiling. In addition, there were great garlands of fir branches, pine, holly, ivy and mistletoe. Tiny lights shimmered and sparkled amongst them and robins flew overhead, although Hermione noticed they disappeared in mid-air every so often; they were merely a charm for the evening.

Despite not wanting to be with Lawrence, Hermione equally did not want to spend the evening engaging in small talk with the gathered elite of the wizarding world, and her determination stuttered as she noticed many look up at her as she entered the hall. She scanned the crowd for Severus, but could not yet see him anywhere. Her heart sank further. Before she could descend the steps completely she had already been stopped by two Aurors, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (who was to be her new boss) and the curator of the National Magical Library. She glanced around for Harry, or even for Lawrence, hoping either of them might rescue her from forced smiles and chit chat, but they had both vanished. As the curator of the library further bored her into a semi-catatonic state, she let her eyes wander around the room and saw him.

Severus was standing about twenty feet away from her, in a small space of his own, staring at her with a look of complete wonder on his face. She locked eyes with him and knew she must be reflecting his expression. Never had she been so delighted to see anyone before. A moment later her face broke into such a broad grin, the sides of her mouth started to ache.

She could not remove her eyes from his, and neither could he. And then he moved. He walked towards her in his inimitable way, striding through the crowds. She gasped, surprised by his boldness, but equally thrilled that he would approach her in the midst of all these people.

He was soon there, next to her, tall, real, gazing down, his eyes alight with vitality. Hermione had not heard a word the librarian had said to her for the last minute.

"Professor Snape," she managed.

"Miss Granger," he began. There was a pause. Their eyes remained fixed on each other. "May I ... compliment you on the decorations Gryffindor have used to ... adorn the castle. They are most ... entrancing." His eyes ran over her body.

"Thank you, Professor. Uhh ... Do you know ... uhh ... sorry, I didn't catch your name?" She turned to where the curator had been standing. He had gone. A flicker of guilt passed through her and she turned to Severus with a look conveying it. A small smile flitted across his face.

"Thank Merlin for that," he drawled quietly.

She laughed and looked down. When she raised her head again, he was looking at her with the same expression as before.

"You look ... utterly captivating."

She blushed, but finally managed to take in what he was wearing too. His usual attire was flattering enough, but this outfit was subtly but effectively different. The deep black material was cut broad across the shoulders, before running smoothly down his flat torso towards his waist, around which hung a heavy sash. The full-length coat was adorned with the usual buttons, but descended all the way to the floor, similar to a clerical cassock, but without any of the pious superciliousness that such a garment may convey. The collar rose high and split into a sharp V just below his chin, under which Hermione could detect a hint of light white linen. He was unencumbered by any outer robes, allowing his tall form to be accentuated.

"So do you," she just managed to breathe out. "I mean ... really ..." She laughed a little at her inability to express herself coherently. He smiled.

"Are you alone?"

She glanced around. "I seem to be at the moment."

They stood awkwardly, simply staring at each other. All the things they wanted to say could not be said in the circumstances. As it was, they realised they should move away from each other soon, or they may arouse suspicion. Hermione continued to gaze at him. She wanted so desperately to reach out to him, run her fingers up his firm body, over his shoulders, round and down his back. A slight sob came from her, and her breathing grew ragged.

"I want to touch you," she whispered with quiet desperation.

Severus' face flinched but he said nothing. He could not stop himself. He took a step in towards her. They were a mere inch or so apart. He was so close that she could feel his breath on her hair, smell his unique aroma so intensely she thought she was tasting it. His chest rose and fell rapidly right before her eyes and she swayed a little, unable to think or behave rationally.

"Hermione! Severus!"

The booming voice of the Minister for Magic shot them out of their reverie. Hermione gasped in with shock and spun to see Kingsley Shacklebolt bearing down on them with a beaming smile of delight on his face.

He immediately came up and embraced Hermione in a bear hug, something which at that point she was most grateful for, as she had thought she would collapse otherwise. Kingsley turned and shook Severus' hand forcefully. The Potions Master gave a forced smile, but his eyes flashed with displeasure.

"What's this, Severus?" continued Shacklebolt. "Hasn't anyone told you you don't have to work tonight? Still giving your brightest student some last minute tuition, hey? Exams don't start till Tuesday, so I'm told. Come, Hermione, don't let our mad professor here bore you senseless tonight. Have some fun for a change!"

Hermione managed a watery smile. "I'm sure I will, Kingsley. How's life at the Ministry? I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me pestering you from January."

The Minister for Magic let out a loud bellowing laugh and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Excellent, my dear! I cannot wait to have you on board. Why you insisted on staying here and taking those damn exams is beyond me. We would have employed you even if you'd failed all your OWLs!"

She caught Severus' eye. He raised his brow to her with a look that said, 'I told you so.'

Shacklebolt continued. "And who are you with tonight, Hermione, my dear? I should imagine the boys were falling over themselves to accompany you. You look stunning, I must say. No one else even comes close. Doesn't she look exquisite, Severus?" He turned to Snape.

Snape did not answer initially then said simply, "Yes."

Shacklebolt looked at the professor with mild surprise for a moment, before turning back to Hermione. "Well, there you go, Hermione. If you can impress Severus, you can impress anyone. Who is your partner anyway?"

Hermione flushed and glanced down, "Err ... Lawrence Filmore."

With that, Lawrence came over. "There you are, 'Mione. I've been looking everywhere for you." He took a startled step back when he saw who his date was talking to. "Oh ... err ... hi ... Minister ... god ... it's really good to meet you ... I'm a huge ... err ... fan ... err ... hi ..." Hermione rolled her eyes. Introducing yourself as a 'huge fan' was hardly the way to greet the foremost politician in the wizarding world.

Shacklebolt merely smiled broadly and extended his hand. "And you must be Mr Filmore. Very pleased to meet you. You've done well to secure Miss Granger. Make sure you look after her tonight, won't you?"

"I will, Minister, don't worry, I will."

Shacklebolt laughed aloud again and slapped Lawrence on the back before moving off. "I bet you will! I bet you will, my boy!"

Severus Snape looked as if he was about to vomit.

Lawrence eventually realised there was another person standing with them. "Err ... hi Professor Snape ... err ... alright?"

If looks could kill.

The expression ran through Hermione's head as it so often did when witnessing her lover in a state of disdain.

"Yes, Mr Filmore, I happen to be very much ... alright."

Lawrence waited for him to speak again. He did not. The younger man turned to his partner. "Right. Great. Come on then, 'Mione. You must be sick of talking to all these old farts, let's go and find the others." He made little if any effort to lower his voice for the last sentence.

With that he had grabbed Hermione round the waist, a gesture not lost on Severus who flinched, and yanked her away from their teacher. Hermione twisted her head to look longingly and apologetically back at him as she was pulled away. Severus stood fixed to the spot, staring after her. Her heart and body ached.

They were to eat before the dancing started. The tables suddenly appeared amongst them, dressed and decorated to perfection with great heaving platters of the finest foods. Hermione sat down between Harry and Lawrence and tried to focus on her meal. She had little appetite, despite the sumptuous feast before her, and kept glancing up at Severus, seated between McGonagall and Shacklebolt. He too seemed to be eating little.

She took the opportunity to catch up with Harry, who asked her quietly how things were going and how Severus was feeling about the evening.

"Things are ... amazing, Harry. He's really come a long way. He's OK about tonight. I just want to have a bit of fun, get dressed up, dance a bit, see you lot ... he understands that now ... it's all good." She smiled warmly at him.

He returned the smile. "That's great to hear. I must say, you look amazing, and I don't just mean the dress. It's you ... you're radiant."

Hermione's smile deepened. Just then Lawrence leaned over to her. "You alright, 'Mione? Can I top up your glass?"

She turned to him just as he was draining the last of his and refilling it. "Why not? Go on then, Lawrence." She was resigned. She might as well try to enjoy herself as much as possible. Lawrence was reaching across her, pouring into her glass. "I have to say, Mione. You look fu ... sorry ... bloody incredible ... absolutely bloody beautiful." He seemed to be slurring his words more than one glass of wine warranted. She glanced at him curiously.

"Thank you, Lawrence," she said cautiously, leaning away from him a little.

After the meal, the tables magically vanished as fast as they had initially appeared. A band appeared on the stage and everyone was encouraged to take their partners for the first dance. There were to be formal set dances to begin with, a tradition in the wizarding world, which enabled people to dance with as many others as possible.

Hermione started with Lawrence, but glanced around the vast hall to see if she could spot Severus. She eventually did. He was in a far corner of the room, engrossed in a conversation with the Chief Auror, blatantly ignoring anything that went on on the dance floor.

The dances moved swiftly on. Generally, they were progressive dances which meant nobody remained with the same partner for long. Hermione found herself dancing with students and teachers alike, and after three dances had partnered nearly all her professors. All except one.

Whenever Lawrence partnered her, she noticed his hand clamped as tightly round her waist as it was possible to be. On one occasion it moved down towards her bottom, but luckily at that point, the dance moved on and she was able to spin away from him.

They reached the last set dance, after this the band would resort to normal muggle pop music. Hermione sighed. Severus had missed his chance. Not that he had ever wanted one, it seemed. She tried not to feel angry with him, but she was deeply disappointed that he had not even blended into one of the more tasteful sequences.

She wanted to sit this one out. But just as she was about to turn away from the floor, she saw Madam Hooch striding over to him. The forceful flying instructor reached out her hand and practically dragged him onto his feet. They proceeded to have what seemed to be an argument, and Snape appeared to be winning, but at the last moment he looked up and caught Hermione's eye. She smiled across at him.

With a deep sigh, and an obvious roll of the eyes, Severus allowed Madam Hooch to push him onto the dance floor, not that she would be partnering him any more than the next woman, as this dance in particular required a lot of progression and rotation. Every man had to dance with every woman. At that point, Hermione could have kissed the Quidditch referee.

The music started. Hermione's partners came and went, holding and twirling her. They nearly all blushed and smiled as entrancingly as they could when they came to her. But she just wanted them to move on, desperate to partner one person alone.

At last, he was next. She looked across at him. He was hardly the most uninhibited dancer, but he could move and had a fair sense of rhythm. With a spin to her left, she found herself opposite him. The dance required them to adopt a traditional ballroom hold. Despite all the times their bodies had been so intimately joined, on this occasion when they could touch each other with no fear of reprisal, they seemed unsure how to do it. All the other couples were moving smoothly around. Severus had still not even taken hold of her.

To prevent them from being knocked over by the others, Hermione stepped into him and took his hand, bringing her other one up to his shoulder. He at last raised his eyes to hers and placed his hand on her waist. Even through the material on her dress, she could feel his strong palm and fingers searing her flesh. His grip tightened and he started to move.

He spun her round the floor remarkably elegantly. Hermione could not take her eyes from his. His seared into hers, almost drawing tears from her. She gripped his hand hard and the fingers on his shoulder dug in, as if she was clinging onto him for survival. As they moved, he pulled her in closer and closer to him, until she felt herself pressed against his entire length. Still, they moved smoothly round the floor.

His scent filled her head again, and combined with the movement of the dance, caused her to reel. He sensed her dizziness and pulled her in yet tighter to him with a slight grunt of his own need. As far as they were concerned, at that moment, they were the only people in the world.

She pressed against him and felt the familiar hardness against her hips. He ground it into her. She could not stop a moan rising. Luckily the music was loud enough to conceal it. Their heads were practically touching. Hermione had to keep reminding herself to breathe.

His mouth was at her ear, his hot breath moving her hairs, tickling her scalp. He spoke, low and desperate.

"I can smell you ... I can smell your lust ... I want you now ... I have to have you now ... to taste you ... to be inside you ... now ..."

Hermione looked up at him, hardly able to focus. But she was soon knocked out of her haze by Madam Pomfrey tapping on her shoulder.

"Miss Granger! Wakey wakey. Change partners, dear! Goodness me, Severus! What a good job you don't teach dance!"

With that Hermione was practically pushed out of his arms and over to her last partner, a spotty Hufflepuff seventh year. She did not make eye-contact with the boy for the entire sequence. It ruined his evening.

The dance finished. Hermione could hardly stand. The room was spinning around her. She saw him standing just apart from her, his long black coat making him seem even taller and more vital than ever. She knew they had only one course of action available to them. She would go mad if they didn't follow it.

With a final look at him, she turned and practically ran from the hall. She knew he would be following her.

Hermione pushed past various people in her haste and turned into the corridors. She rushed down them, turning as many corners as possible. She heard sharp insistent footsteps behind her. The noises of the crowd faded, but she was still in the public areas of the castle, in a main corridor leading to the classrooms. It was unlikely that anyone would come this way tonight, but possible. She looked around desperately for somewhere to go. All the classrooms had been locked and charmed so no one could enter them that night.

Before she could think too much about it, black-clad arms had encircled her, and firm hot lips were assaulting the tender flesh on her neck. Her head fell back and she sobbed with need.

His hands were gripping her tightly round her waist, rubbing over the tightly encased body beneath the satin. He spun her around and pulled her as hard as he could to him. "So beautiful ... perfection ... you are exquisite perfection ..."

Hermione reached in to kiss him brutally, opening his mouth with hers. "Please ... please ... hurry ... can't wait ... please, Severus ..."

He gripped her hips and lifted her over to the ledge which ran along the edge of the corridor, placing her roughly on it. She lay back against the window frame, her lust allowing her no coherent thought whatsoever. She could only grunt and mewl in expectation. He threw her dress up over her hips and ripped her underwear from her. It only fuelled her further.

He did not hesitate in kneeling before her and plunging his tongue hard up into her immediately. She groaned into the chill air of the cold castle night, and pushed herself further into him, arching her back. He moaned his own need against her and the vibrations sent a tremor of pleasure shivering up her core. She laughed with delight.

His tongue now swirled around her clit, stroking, stoking, drawing it out to swell even more for him. She moaned loudly, her eyes closing and her head thrashing from side to side. He pushed his thumb hard up into her pussy while a finger worked its way into her arse. Hermione thrust down to meet his fingers, forcing him to rub them forcefully inside.

"Oh god," she groaned, her words echoing around the hard stone walls. Her hand was flung down instinctively to grip his hair tight and push him against her. The fingers inside her stroked and rubbed, as his mouth drew her clit into a state of ripe arousal. A moan rose from her, once again reverberating around them. He could only respond with a groan of his own, muffled against her wet depths.

"So good ... so close ... please finish it ... it's too much ... too good ..." Her body tensed, ready to fall. His tongue was so near, but not quite close enough to bring her to her end. She sobbed aloud as every muscle in her body cried out with near fulfilment. Then, just as she thought he would move to suck hard on it one final time, he brought his head up and moved back from her. A moan of despair rose from her, but she forced it to fade when he started to fumble at the buttons nearest his hips. He had so many that he resorted to a wandless spell, quickly muttering some words. All the buttons on the lower half of his coat were immediately undone, and his throbbing erection rose out of it suddenly and desperately.

The disappointment of his mouth being withdrawn immediately disappeared as she saw his cock seeking her out. She lay back again, spreading her legs wider, and laughed with abandon at what was before her. Severus positioned himself quickly, his own desire unable to be contained any longer. He rubbed the head of his cock along her soaking sex, teasing her clit again, causing her to cry out with thwarted anticipation. His hand came up round the back of her neck, digging his fingers into the tender flesh and pulling her up to stare deep into her eyes. His other hand was holding the considerable length of his cock, preparing to push inside her.

"Do you see? Do you see what you do to me, witch? You will take me. You will take all of me. Know that." And then he thrust so hard that her head was forced back against the window frame. She cried out with a combination of satisfaction, shock and pain, but her soul and body merely registered pleasure.

A deep throbbing groan was pulled from his being. Hermione brought her eyes sharply up to his, her mouth falling open in wonder. His face reflected her amazement. She pulsed around him and his features flinched. It was a reaction she often saw in him when displeased or annoyed, but on this occasion she knew it to be with sheer bliss.

He brought his hand up to her neck again, his fingers digging hard into her skin, and pulled her up towards him. She heard him exhale a slow, awed breath. His other hand gripped her hip and he lowered his gaze to their point of union, preparing to move again.

"Wait!" she exclaimed sharply, her voice insistent. "Wait. Just stay with me, stay in me ... for a moment ... just a moment, my love. I just want to feel you ... feel you ..."

His face tensed. She knew he was desperate to move, to feel friction. He continued to hold her up. Hermione looked down, pulling her dress up away from her hips as much as possible to gaze down at him buried inside her. "Yes ... there ... always there ... I want to see ..." She spoke almost reverentially and pushed against his chest, moving him back from her a little, so she could see the shaft withdrawing. Then she gripped the material and pulled him back, watching with fascination as it disappeared into her again. He groaned with the movement; he needed more.

His low voice snaked its way into her, desperate to the point of anger. "I have to move. Let me move now, witch. I have to feel you, see you. I have to make you come, give you my pleasure, all I have. Let me move!"

Her eyes darted to his and she granted him his need. "Now! Do it!" she hissed, not taking her eyes from his. His hand still clasped her round the neck, holding her body upright. With a grunt of acceptance, he started to withdraw, then thrust hard into her again. He tried to hold her gaze, but she could tell he was finding it hard to focus. She could not remember him so hard inside her.

He moved brutally now, his own sounds of rapture unable to be contained. His groans came with the same low sonority he carried in his voice, causing Hermione even more pleasure. Her muscles, which had been so primed, so ready only minutes before, now found themselves tensed for release once again, even more coiled and expectant.

A sobbing cry rose from her as her mouth fell open helplessly again. He rubbed against her already ripe clit with each plunge in. Hermione's hands flailed, coming down to grip onto the black material of his coat desperately, trying to steady herself before tumbling from the precipice.

His face twisted in what looked like agony, and at that moment he held her head hard and turned it sharply towards him. "Speak to me! Tell me what you feel!"

Her eyes widened and she spoke, the words coming from deep inside her psyche. "I feel you ... always you ... so hard, so real, you fill me like no other. I want no one else. I only want you, only want your cock ... filling me, pounding me, filling my cunt ... only you ... only you, my love ... come now, come for me, make me come, make me come ... I love you, I love you, I love you ..."

With that, he pulled back. His features creased yet further, as if he would weep, and then he thrust fully back into her. Hermione's world disintegrated. Pleasure so extraordinary ripped its way through her body she thought she had been pulled away from her surroundings. A cry of pure sensation sounded in the air around her. It was only later that she realised it had been her own cry. Every fibre of her being pulsed around him.

She felt the man within her gripping her body hard in his attempt to steady himself. He was coming, coming so violently he thought his legs had melted beneath him. He gripped her yet harder so as not to collapse; he had not thought pleasure like it possible. His seed was torn from him over and over, shooting deep into her. Still the rapture coursed through him, reflected in the agony etched onto his face. However, never had he been so far from agony. He was touching perfection.

When at last their bodies came to rest, Hermione lay back along the ledge, her mind slowly reengaging with reality. Severus was leaning over her, his hands on either side of her body, gazing down. She managed a bleary smile.

Neither spoke a word. Nothing could be said. When he felt able, he slowly pulled out of her and tidied himself, allowing her to do the same. They cleansed themselves with a charm and Hermione ensured her hair and make-up were still intact.

She stood and started to walk away from him, back to the hall. As she passed, he caught her wrist. She turned. Severus pulled her into him, and spoke low, with aching sincerity. "I love you."

Hermione responded with a deep kiss before pulling away to rejoin the ball.

-------------------------------------------------------

I don't think there's any doubt as to their feelings for each other.

The ball isn't over yet ...