Thirty-One

So ... an important one this ...

I have included a reference to one of Mr Rickman's other performances. You get housepoints for guessing what!

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When Hermione returned to the Great Hall, Muggle pop music was filling the air and students had started to gather on the dance floor. She noticed a respectable number of teachers and guests still up dancing, but the majority of people were teenagers intent on enjoying one of the few occasions they were allowed to be exhibitionist in such a setting.

Her friends immediately came up to her, dragging her onto the floor. The girls seemed to have been abandoned by their partners for a while, not that Hermione was complaining. Wherever the boys had gone, Lawrence was with them, although Hermione noticed Harry had not joined them. He had managed to escape a conversation with a junior minister to dance with Ginny.

Glancing behind her, she saw Severus returning to the hall unobtrusively and retreating to a dark corner of the hall on his own. She gave him a secret smile which he returned, clearly relieved to discover Filmore's absence, and proceeded to sit, his arms folded before him, watching her discreetly. Hermione let the music guide her erotically charged body into an expression of ripe sexuality.

She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sounds and rhythms which engulfed her, her mind consumed with the images and sensations she had experienced only minutes before. When she managed to drag her eyes open, she saw he had risen from his chair and was moving slowly around the room, arms still folded, unable to take his eyes off her. She was his. He knew it, as did she. She danced for him and herself. No one else mattered.

She longed for him to come over and hold her, let her move against him. But she knew it would not nor could happen. She contented herself with providing him with his own show of delicious eroticism, delighting in the secret little perversion of it.

She was dancing with a group of girls, including her more outspoken friend, Rose. The boys were nowhere to be seen. Hermione momentarily wondered where they had disappeared to, but felt great relief. She was with her friends, being watched by her lover, doing something she adored, having just had some of the best sex of her life. It didn't get much better.

After a few dances, the group went and sat in the chairs on the side, watching the others. They laughed with hot exhaustion, the small amount of alcohol they had consumed earlier helping to float them into a heightened state of euphoria. Amidst gossip and giggles, Hermione still managed to keep her eyes trained on him. As he did on her.

Snape continued to walk slowly around the room, moving towards her and her friends. Hermione felt a curious buzz of nervous elation beyond what she would expect. How they had managed to retain the sexual tension between them for so long staggered her. She supposed it was due simply to the continued illicit nature of their relationship. Would he dare approach them? Speak to them? She wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not. As her mind vied to find the more acceptable option, Rose said loudly, "Bloody hell, he is looking so damn sexy tonight!"

"Who?" Ginny turned to her, bewildered, looking around for an attractive sixth or seventh year.

"Our delicious Potions Master of course."

A shiver ran rapidly over Hermione's skin. She wasn't entirely sure whether it was with excitement or dread.

Ginny giggled a little to hide her nerves and shot Hermione a glance. Hermione kept her head down. "Do you want to go and dance again?" she asked as brightly as she could, trying to change the subject.

"God, not right now. He's heading this way. Watch this, girls!"

Severus was walking slowly and deliberately past them, his mask of arrogant disdain hiding his constant appraisal of Hermione. Rose suddenly leant back in her chair, blocking his path. He stopped and glanced down at her with clear annoyance.

"Hello, Professor! Enjoying yourself?" She sounded brightly flirtatious. Hermione started to feel nauseous. Although she knew there was no way he would respond to the girl, she still felt what she knew to be a stirring of jealousy. It was not an emotion she had thought she would ever encounter in their relationship. Now she knew how he had felt about Lawrence.

Snape's features tensed and his whole body grew rigid. A familiar sneer passed across his face before he drawled, "Some moments have been better than others."

Rose continued. "Not dancing, sir?"

"Apparently not." The words were spoken with their usual dripping sarcasm.

"Oh, I think you should give it a go. You might enjoy it." She stood up, smiling flirtatiously at him. "I can just see you doing a tango, sir. If you need a partner, I'm more than happy to oblige." Rose finished by biting her lip, lowering her eyes to his chest and running a finger down half the buttons on his torso. Then she spun around and sat down again, a broad mischievous grin on her face.

Hermione had to sit on her hands to stop herself punching her friend.

Snape visibly flinched and glanced briefly at Hermione; she could not look at him. With a sharply inhaled breath, he drew himself up and spoke once again, his voice so low as to be barely audible. "I can assure you that shall not be necessary, Miss Hughes. Good evening, ladies." With a slight bow, he moved off.

Rose leaned back in her chair one more time to watch his retreating form. She sighed, "Oh dear god above. So many buttons ... so little time ..."

Hermione turned to glare at her and stood up. "Excuse me! I'm going to the bathroom." With that she stormed off.

Just as she was heading out, a strong hand encircled her wrist and pulled her into a dark corner.

"What was all that about?!" Severus hissed to her.

"Don't bloody ask me! Half the girls in the year have all of a sudden got it into their heads they fancy the pants off you! It's nothing to do with me, I can assure you!"

He released his grip on her wrist, and even in the dim light she could detect his features softening to the extent that he may even have been smiling. It did nothing to ease her discomfort.

"I had no idea I was so in demand." His deep tones had a hint of sardonic self-satisfaction carried in them.

Hermione crossed her arms and humphed. "Yeah well ... Just assure me that if you do ever dance a tango, it will only be with me."

He was smirking, although she refused to look at him. "Miss Granger," he drawled, "I do believe there is a touch of the green-eyed monster about you."

She humphed again. He put a finger under her chin and lifted it towards him. "Hermione."

She pulled away. "Don't. Someone might see."

"Hermione," he continued. "Now I know how you felt about my petulant little display of emotion regarding Mr ... Filmore. The charms of Miss Hughes, if indeed there are any, are utterly wasted on me. I do not need to tell you that. You consume me entirely."

She at last smiled up at him. "I know. It's stupid, I'm sorry. She just annoys me. She's such a stupid idiot sometimes. It just reminds me how little I have in common with these people now." She glanced around. Nobody seemed to be able to see them in the darkness of their little corner. "Did you use a concealment charm?"

"I might have done." His low tones seeped into her, inflaming her lust once again. His head had descended to her neck and he was planting hot, sensual kisses along her tingling skin. She moaned out, holding him there.

"I sincerely hope you have, Professor." His head rose to hers and they met in an open, hungry kiss. When at last they parted, she moved her mouth to his ear and whispered as sensuously and flirtatiously as she could, "I wish I could consume you entirely - right – this - instant."

He smiled languidly and bent to kiss her neck again. "All in good time, Miss Granger." His words may have given the impression of cool patience, but the hardness she could feel pressing against her hips told another story.

Hermione moaned again, but as his head descended to caress and kiss her supple breasts as they rose out of the red satin of her dress, her mind tuned in enough to listen to the music. She pulled her head up.

"Oh god! I love this song! I want to go and dance." She moved back from him, then glanced up. "Is that alright?"

He smiled down at her. "If you dance the way you were dancing before... it is imperative."

She laughed, reached up for a kiss, and rushed off to join her friends on the dance floor. Her good humour had returned with a vengeance, and she was even able to laugh as she recalled the way Rose had flirted with her lover earlier. In fact, it suddenly made her realise how proud she was of him and their relationship. As she danced, her hips undulating sensuously, her arms raised in idle abandon above her, aware of his eyes focused on her from a distance, she was euphoric.

The girls stayed on the dance floor for several songs. As Hermione danced to one, her eyes closed as the music washed through her, she felt firm arms reach around her waist and clasp her tight. For a moment, in her semi-delirious state, she thought it was Severus, and ran her hands over the well-toned arms that held her. They felt different. Her eyes darted open and she spun around. There standing behind her, a grin on his face, was Lawrence Filmore.

She flushed with embarrassment and immediately looked round to see if Severus had noticed. Luckily, at that moment, he seemed to be deep in conversation with a Ministry official. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She shot Lawrence a glare, which he did not register, and turned to dance facing him, keeping a significant distance and not looking at him once.

At several points he tried to move into her, grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him. She was able to escape his clutches each time. However, every time he came close, she smelt the unmistakable stench of strong alcohol, far more than the two glasses of wine allowed at dinner. She looked up at him. He was dancing very badly, in that peculiar abandoned style drunk teenage boys have, all flailing limbs and vacant eyes. It turned her stomach.

Still, he kept moving towards her, his hands all over her body. She glared at him again, trying to shout a warning to him over the music. It made no difference. After several minutes of trying to fend him off, she stormed out. He followed, swerving unevenly after her.

Snape had been manoeuvred into a position during his conversation whereby he could not see the dance floor. He did not notice Hermione leaving.

She headed for the girls' bathroom, but Lawrence caught up with her and grabbed her arm before she could reach it. There were several couples engaged in various degrees of snogging around them.

"Hermione! Wassa matter?"

She turned to glare at him. "I think it's entirely obvious what the matter is, Lawrence. You're completely drunk! How on earth did you get like this?! Where did you get the drink from?"

"Oh – don't worry about that. A load of the Quidditch boys managed to get some in a few days ago. We've been in Radford's room. Fucking great! Just wish you'd been there."

His speech was so slurred, she could hardly distinguish his words.

"Tom Radford!? That moron?! He's in Slytherin. I didn't think you even knew him. And how did you get into his room anyway?"

"Dunno... everyone's at the ball... no one gives a shit about the Slytherin dungeons. Certainly not bloody Snape! He's been nowhere near the place!"

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt pass through her. Lawrence once again moved into her.

"Mione ... I mean ... you really ... I really ... fuckin' hell, 'Mione ... the things you do to me ... come 'ere ..."

He lunged for her. She managed to pull back again. She tried hard not to be judgmental and knew what boys could be like when drunk. She was under no illusions as to the potential for any student to overdo it at times. But the surfeit of alcohol seemed to be bringing out a side to Lawrence she had not seen before. It was repulsing her.

"Lawrence! Remember what I said about going to the ball. Just as friends. Strictly. Please keep your hands off me. I am sorry, but I am just not interested in you in that way."

His whole body sagged. "Oh bloody hell, Mione. Just a little snog. Go on. Please."

She opened her mouth in horror. "No way! Lawrence, go back to the ball and sober up a bit, if that's possible."

"What's wrong with you? What is it? Don't you fancy blokes any more, is that it? Is Ginny more your type?"

Hermione nearly punched him. But as she looked at him swaying before her, trying desperately to focus on her face, she just felt pity for him. She sighed deeply.

"Lawrence. You are saying things that, if you remember them tomorrow, you will severely regret. Listen to me. Go back and find your friends. I think you should probably go to bed."

"No no no no no ... you've got to dance with me once, babe. I haven't had a single slow dance with you yet."

She sighed again, her eyes raised to the ceiling. She was his partner after all. "Alright. Just one slow dance, and then promise me you'll go to bed. I'll check someone's there to make sure you're alright."

"Yeah, sure, babe, anything you say." He was grinning stupidly at her.

She headed for the bathroom, then stopped and turned back. "And Lawrence," she spoke sharply. "Don't call me babe."

When she returned to the hall, she rejoined her friends. Lawrence came up, but kept his distance for the next couple of dances. Her eyes immediately found Severus again. He was alone, standing slightly apart from some other teachers. Their eyes met. She obviously looked a little distressed as he raised his brows inquiringly to her. She managed a watery smile, trying not to betray too much.

The music changed; the beat slowed and couples started to form around her. She sighed, wondering if she could sneak off. But before the first bar had finished, Lawrence had caught her and pulled her into him. She noticed his muscular frame and strong arms immediately. But whereas before it might have ignited her desire, now it merely turned her off further. His shirt was damp with sweat, and the alcohol on his breath had started to turn rancid. She placed her hands on his shoulders, as platonically and formally as she could, but his strength overwhelmed her and she found herself being pulled in against him over and over. Eventually, she gave in, and moved her feet regimentally, praying for the song to end.

As they turned on the spot, she dared to glance up and met Severus' eyes. She gazed apologetically and almost shamefully at him. His face was fixed tight. His arms were folded across his chest and she could tell it was rising and falling more rapidly than normal. But he remained still and outwardly calm. It provided her with some relief. One dance. That was all.

The music continued. Lawrence's hands were around her waist, and she felt a tightening of his fingers. He moved his head down to hers and his mouth reached her ear. She grimaced as his lips brushed against it. "Fucking hell, Mione. Can you feel me? Fucking hell, I'm gonna come right here if I'm not careful." With that he ground himself into her. Hermione squirmed back, heaving with disgust, but immediately his hand was clamped firmly on her backside, pushing her into his erection even more. She struggled to escape as nausea welled up in her. But he was too strong and held her close into him, groaning loudly into her ear. It was clear her protestations were simply turning him on even more.

She reached sharply around and gripped his wrists, trying to pull them off her. She could not.

"Lawrence! Stop it! Take your hands off me."

"Come on, babe. You know it feels good. You're so far up your own fucking arse, woman. You need a bloody good, hard fuck." His hand was squeezing the flesh of her backside hard as he continued to press against her.

Hermione saw red but was unable to do anything. She looked around desperately for Severus, but she had become disoriented and could not see him. "Lawrence. You bastard. Stop it. For god's sake, let me go."

Her words were merely inflaming him more. His head had descended to her neck and she felt not only his mouth but his teeth on her flesh. She wished she had her wand. Then his other hand came up and gripped her breast, his fingers digging in so hard she cried out with pain.

Suddenly, he was pulled back from her. She reeled and took a desperate step forward to steady herself, unsure what had happened. Then she heard a voice, a voice so familiar and welcome she nearly wept.

"I suggest you step away this instant, Mr Filmore. I do not believe Miss Granger appreciates your attentions."

Lawrence spun around to see the tall form of Severus Snape looming next to him. His face twisted in disbelief and he snarled at his teacher, "I suggest you mind your own fucking business ... sir." He turned immediately back to Hermione.

Snape's hand was once again at his shoulder, pulling him around to him. "Mr Filmore. Using inappropriate language to a member of staff is a major disciplinary offence. But at this precise moment, it is Miss Granger's welfare that concerns me the most. Move away from her now."

Lawrence was riled. He stepped up to Snape, his features twisting with the arrogant anger of youth. "What's it to you?! Look around you ... Professor ... half the bloody school's at it. Look at Whitemore and Lucy – he's practically got his dick in her already!"

Snape did not flinch, but continued to stare at Lawrence. "Miss Granger was not enjoying your ... efforts."

"How the fuck do you know!? And what the hell do you care? Go and pick on someone else." He turned away one more time towards Hermione, reaching for her hips. Snape grabbed his arm forcefully and pulled him hard around to him again.

"Get your fucking hands off me, will you!?" Lawrence exclaimed, twisting his arm out of Snape's grip. He stared at his teacher with angry confusion. "What's your fucking problem!?"

Snape was breathing heavily, his body tense, eyes fixed like daggers on Filmore.

A sudden light of realisation dawned across the younger man's face. He smiled a little to himself, not taking his eyes from Snape's, and started to nod slowly. "You're jealous. You're fucking jealous. Aren't you?"

The corner of Snape's mouth twitched, but he did not move. Hermione stood stock still, unsure what to do or say.

Lawrence moved up to his teacher and whispered in his ear, deliberately taunting. "You want her, don't you, old man? You want her hot tight pussy as much as I do. Can't say I blame you. But you know what? You can't have her."

Snape eyes narrowed briefly and he leant in close to Filmore, almost intimately, and whispered softly and smoothly, for the ears of the younger man only, "Ahh, but you see, Mr Filmore, as is so often the case with you ... that ... is where you are ... wrong."

Lawrence leaned away, his face twisting in confusion. He clearly did not understand Snape's meaning and continued unabated, his voice hot and low with spite, stepping up to stand only an inch away from his teacher. "Think she'd want a slimy old tosser like you? In your fucking dreams ... sir. Tell you what, I'll write you an essay. 2000 words. How about it? After I've shagged her hot, sweet young body into oblivion tonight, I'll write it all down for you and put it on your desk the next day – 'For the attention of Professor S Snape. Title: What it's like to be in the cunt of Miss Hermione Granger.'"

Before Filmore had finished the last syllable, Snape's wand was out and at his throat. Every muscle in the older man's body was tense and he seemed taller than ever, even next to Filmore. His black eyes were wide and alight and a vein pulsed in his temple. Hermione had not heard what the boy had said, but could feel the venom pouring out of her lover towards him. She felt powerless to stop him. Immediately, the people around them stopped dancing and fell back, staring with curious awe at the scene before them. The song ended. None followed. There was silence. Snape was a mere breath away from cursing one of his students before the assembled students and wizards in the Great Hall.

Filmore's hands rose up above his shoulders and he swallowed hard, not taking his eyes from the wand still pressed tightly to his throat.

"Whoa ... OK ... OK ... just .... put that thing down will you ... I'm sorry ... I'm sorry ..." His face crumpled and he looked as if he was about to cry.

Keeping his wand pressed firmly to the throat of the whimpering boy before him, Severus stepped in close to him again and spoke, low and dangerous. "You are the worst scum I have ever had the displeasure of coming across during my time at this school, and, as your ignorance may or may not permit you to know, that is quite an accomplishment. Consider your time at Hogwarts School terminated forthwith and indeed your future career, such as it would have been, at an end before it has begun. You will never converse, approach or even look at Miss Granger again for as long as you live, and if you do, I can assure you that I will finish the job I so desire to complete tonight."

Hermione, Severus and Filmore were alone in a circle of people which had formed around them. The entire hall was watching and waiting.

Severus started slowly to lower his wand, and as it moved away from his throat, Filmore's face changed instantly from horror to malice. "Go fuck yourself, you bastard."

The wand was immediately replaced at his throat and Snape's arm tensed. His mouth opened.

But just then a hand came up and rested on his arm, gently squeezing reassuring fingers around it.

"Severus."

Hermione whispered his name softly, but it was heard by the first rows of people surrounding them. Snape turned blearily to face her, almost surprised to find her there and looked at her with a mixture of bewilderment and adoration.

Still he did not lower his arm. Her other hand rose up and touched his face, smoothing her thumb gently over his cheekbone.

The hand which was still resting on his arm now gently pulled it down, and Hermione felt the muscles slacken as she did so. He turned his body to her, breathing heavily, and she remained before him, simply gazing up.

Then, with exhausted defeat, Severus Snape leaned forward and slowly brought his forehead to rest on that of Hermione Granger. She in turn lifted both her hands and cupped his face tenderly. They hardly noticed the audible gasp travel around the assembled students, staff and guests. Lawrence Filmore staggered back in horror and incredulity.

The hall fell silent again, no one moved: all were staring at the figures of the Potions Master and the school's brightest student locked together in the middle of them.

But then from across the room came sharp footsteps, cracking through the air.

Minerva McGonagall strode into the circle, a look of complete shock taking hold of her at what she found.

"What in the name of Merlin is going on here!?"

Nobody said a word. Severus and Hermione slowly moved apart and turned to face the Headmistress.

McGonagall looked from one to the other, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then she fixed her face into her usual expression of tight disapproval and spoke.

"Mr Filmore. You will wait in Madam Hooch's office. I will deal with you imminently. Miss Granger. Professor Snape. My office. Now."

With that she strode out of the circle. Hermione and Severus did not hesitate to follow. The crowds parted with hushed murmurings to let them pass. Hermione briefly noticed Harry and Ginny's anxious faces as they left.

McGonagall strode ahead of them through the castle, quickly reaching the foot of the staircase that led to her office.

They had not looked at each other as they had followed her through the dark silent corridors, but as McGonagall disappeared up the spiral staircase above them, they instinctively reached out their hands at the same time and entwined fingers. Then, with a final look into each other's eyes, they ascended the staircase to the Headmistress's study.

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Oh dear ...

LL

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