The Dance Begins

As she glided down the stairway toward the Great Hall, Hermione could hear the gentle roar of the people milling around the entryway. All of the students whose parents had allowed them to return to Hogwarts were there, as well as the staff and the members of The Order. Dumbledore had insisted that everyone who was involved in the fight against the Dark be present to celebrate their victory.

Celebrate? Hermione thought. Can you celebrate a win when you've lost so much?

Many came over to her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Like it or not, she and the others were now infamous, destined to be talked about in these sacred hallways and elsewhere forever. It was a thought that Hermione could not bring herself to look directly at with her mind's eye...It was too big, too crushing to fully wrap herself around. She did not want fame. She did not want notoriety. She simply wanted them back.

As she greeted people with insignificant smiles and impotent words, her eyes scanned the crowd for the one person she knew could help her get through this evening. They would have to be there for each other tonight, as they had always been. Now they were only two.

"Hermione." Turning, she saw Harry, and the noise around her seemed to dissolve into the air, as smoke from an extinguished candle. Silently he took her hand in his and led her toward the entrance to the school.

Once outside, he wrapped his arm around her, and they walked a short distance to be away from the lights that shone on the face of the building.

"How are you?" he asked gently. She turned to face him and saw that even he, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and went on to become a hero to the wizarding world, had changed. The hair was still dark and unruly, the eyes were still green, intense and beautiful. But something was different about his face. The angles of his bones seemed sharper, the lines on his face no longer gentle curves but strong and defined. With a start she realized that the shadows on his face were not just tricks of the light, but stubble that had not been removed. Why, Harry, she thought, when did you start shaving?

How much did we miss?

Tears welled in her eyes, and she suddenly did not trust herself to speak. She had thought that being with Harry would give her strength, and it did; but it also demanded that she face every other emotion that threatened to tear her apart. He was her past, and he had written her future. Whether they liked it or not, Harry had decided for all of them what their memories would be.

It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair...

She loved him, and she knew that if she had it to do over, she would again be at his side to face Voldemort. But it didn't change the fact that without him, none of this would have happened, and her life would be different. Every time she looked into his eyes, she would know everything that they had won, and remember everything that they had lost.

"Hermione?" He put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned her head away.

"I miss Ron," she whispered. "I wish he was here."

Harry pulled her to him and held her tightly. "I know. I miss him too." He smoothed her hair under his hand and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "He would really have loved this, you know. Especially now that Remus and Tonks gave him that nice set of dress robes. He would have been chasing after Luna like a niffler in heat."

Hermione chuckled despite herself. Ron. How he made her smile.

He would have done anything for me. Why couldn't I love him that way?

Ron's courage was so real. Harry was a hero because he had to be. She was bold because her brain told her it was the right thing to do. But Ron...his courage had come from a place that she and Harry had never had to turn to. He was the most frightened of them all, and that had made him the bravest. An image of him came unbidden to her mind...standing taller than she knew he was, the wind from the fires blowing his hair back from his face as he stepped into the clear for Voldemort to see him. It had been foolish, it had been self-sacrificial, and it had been the bravest act she'd ever witnessed. It had given Harry the moment he needed. But what it had done to Ron...Oh, Ron...

Harry pulled away and smiled down at her.

"Do you want to go with me the next time I go to see him? He asked about you today."

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Severus was glad for Minerva's hand on his arm, because when he came around the corner and saw the throngs of people gathered in and around the Great Hall, his first instinct was to turn and leave. It wasn't fear of what they would think...It wasn't that he disliked them. Well, not all of them It wasn't even that he had anything better to do with his time. It was just that spending time with people...almost any people...reminded him of how solitary ( lonely) his way of life was.

He was not good with small talk and had no desire to be. If he was going to have a conversation with someone, he wanted it to be stimulating and serve a purpose. He could never be a "Nice weather, yes?" kind of man. He had covered the normal conversational ground with the staff and really did not have much to say to any of them besides the Headmistress.

Gods, how I will miss Albus.

The staff was one situation...The students were another thing entirely. They were far more difficult to be around. Ridiculous for his career choice, he knew; it just seemed that each year they grew lazier, cheekier and completely devoid of a desire to learn anything. Except Granger. He had no idea how to speak to them other than to chide them for their foolishness and to snap orders at them that they could not ignore. He knew what they thought of him, and in some respects they were right. He was cold and impatient. But what he was not was uncaring. Those who thought him to be did not understand that the constant pressure he put on his students, the demand that they strive to do their absolute best and beyond, was the teaching method of a man who was gravely, gravely concerned about the future of these children.

You're nothing to them but a great bat, a greasy vampire. One who feeds on breaking their spirits.

Gods, how I will miss Albus. It's not fair.

Headmistress McGonagall turned toward him as he sighed. "Now, dear," she murmured, patting his arm again, "it will be fine. We'll have a nice dinner, everyone will dance...From what I've been told the Weasley brothers will able to find a very nice musical group to perform for us tonight."

"Excellent," Snape scoffed. "Perhaps as an added bonus they'll be sprinkling their Mystical Mustache Powder into each of the ladies' drinks."

With a warm chuckle, Minerva steered him toward the head table. "Severus, I'm glad you're here."

It's not fair it's not fair...

Squeezing her hand gently he lied, "As am I."

*******************************************************

The Great Hall looked truly magnificent. The torches along the wall had been charmed to glow softly across the room. The enchanted ceiling was adorned with an impossible number of stars and a moon that hung slack and pregnant in the sky. In honor of the four houses of Hogwarts that had come together to defeat the Dark Lord, their banners had been raised; one to each wall. Hermione looked around the room approvingly...despite everything, it was so good to be back.

Harry held her hand as they made their way to the Gryffindor table to join their friends. Ginny greeted her with a warm smile ( and haunted eyes) and slid down to make room for her. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, she asked, "Did Harry tell you that we saw Ron today?"

"Yes. I'd like to go see him soon, too. I miss him terribly."

"He would love that. He asks about you all the time."

Looking down at her hands clenched in her lap, Hermione said quietly, "How is he doing? You know, recovering? Is he getting better at all?"

Ginny sighed. "Well, the doctors said that the bones in his arms, hands and upper body are coming along nicely. He's still in a lot of pain, of course, but his spirits are good. He still laughs a lot..." Her voice broke and she looked away quickly.

"His legs?" Hermione asked softly. Ginny shook her head.

Harry put his hand over Ginny's and looked at Hermione. "They said the legs won't get better. He won't be able to walk again."

"Oh, Gods!" She covered her mouth with her hand to fight the sudden rising of bile in her throat. Not Ron...Sweet Merlin, not their Ron.

"Hermione. Ron is okay with this." When she shook her head, Harry turned her to face him. "Listen to me! He is okay. He's made his peace. You are going to have to do the same, because if he sees you this upset it will do more damage than Voldemort did!"

He's right. He's right. It's not FAIR!!

"Harry's right," Ginny said. "Ron is stronger than we tend to give him credit for. He knew the risks going into the war..."

"We ALL knew the risks," Harry interrupted, still staring into Hermione's eyes. "We all knew. And what has happened has happened, and now it's time to move on. Ron is doing it, and so will we. We're going to do it," he continued in a softer voice, "to honor the people who didn't live."

Hermione looked away and nodded.

Why in bloody hell does he think it's going to be that easy??

When she turned back to face him, she saw that Harry was still staring at her. This time he put his hand on her neck and leaned his forehead against her.

"There's no shame in being alive, Hermione."

*******************************************************

All in all, Severus had to admit that the celebration was not as horrible as he had anticipated. He had been able to keep up a steady and lively conversation with Professor Flitwick and Madame Hooch, as well as the Headmistress. The band that the Weasley brothers had procured, while not his standard taste in music, were actually quite pleasant and kept up a steady stream of music both slow and fast. While his counterparts had been taking the dance floor quite often (and more regularly as the evening wore on and the small flask which Madame Hooch had produced made its way discreetly around the Head Table) Severus remained seated. He enjoyed slow-dancing with a capable partner, but the spirit had not yet struck him.

As he watched, his esteemed Headmistress made her way back toward her seat, laughing and slightly out of breath, her brilliant purple witch's hat askew on her head. Her escort was none other than the Golden Boy, Harry Potter. Snape's lip curled as he looked away.

"Thank you, Harry! That was most enjoyable!"

"The pleasure was all mine, Headmistress." Harry gave a small bow, which made the elderly witch chuckle again.

"Harry," she reminded him gently, "you are no longer a student of this school. I believe that with our history, you may now call me Minerva."

Harry gave her a dazzling smile and planted a kiss on the back of her hand. "Then the pleasure was most certainly all mine, Minerva."

As she took her seat next to him, Severus gave her a small nod. "Did you enjoy your dance?" I would imagine you did, since it's left you giggling like a schoolgirl.

"Yes, Severus, I did. Harry is a wonderful dancer, and it's been some time since I've had the opportunity to...how do the Muggles say it?...cut a rug." Dabbing at her throat with her napkin she looked closely at him. "Are you planning on doing any dancing this evening?"

Snape shrugged. "I'd be happy to escort you to the dance floor if you wish, Minerva. As I'm sure you are aware, I do not enjoy the frantic leaping about that these children – and others," he looked around the Head Table with a faint sneer, "consider dancing. But I would not turn down the chance to be your partner for a waltz, if you would like."

"Oh, thank you, dear," Minerva smiled, giving his hand a motherly pat, "but I think I've done enough dancing for the time being. Perhaps there is someone else here you would like to accompany?"

Cocking an eyebrow at her in a way that she knew many a young witch - undeniably, a few older ones, too – found quite alluring, he drawled, "Am I correct in assuming that you have someone in mind?"

Without a word, his friend turned and looked toward the center of the room. Snape followed her guess and then uttered a sarcastic bark of laughter. "Surely you are joking, Minerva! I am NOT going to lower myself to asking a student to join me in a dance!"

"Now Severus, don't go getting on your high hippogriff just yet. First of all, Hermione is no longer a student here. Secondly, this young woman fought beside you during the war, which must account for something. And lastly...she looks rather lonely."

The Potions master looked back toward the Gryffindor table and saw that Hermione was, indeed, sitting alone.

It's not fair it's not fair

Harry and Ginny were clutching each other tightly and swaying on the dance floor, as were several other couples. As he watched, Anthony Goldstein approached and bent down over Hermione's shoulder. He saw her turn, give him demure smile and then shake her head. The young Ravenclaw shrugged and walked away, obviously disappointed but not looking terribly surprised.

"I believe Miss Granger would be much happier dancing with someone her own age, Headmistress. I would not want to make her the laughingstock of this school by subjecting her to the humiliation of having to dance with a teacher...least of all the one who is most disliked by her peers!"

From a few seats down he heard Madame Hooch snort. "Oh please, Severus! Hermione Granger is not a young woman who could be forced into doing anything she didn't want to. Besides," she continued, her bright yellow eyes pinning him to his seat, "what are you more afraid of? That they'll laugh at her...or that she'll laugh at you?"

She wouldn't...she's not that cruel. I've seen her...

Rising from the table with his eyes flashing and his nostrils flaring, Snape towered over the Flying Teacher and hissed at her, "That will be enough! Whomever I choose to dance with will be no one's business but my own and my partner's. I will not be coerced into something so ridiculous by a lot of inebriated, idiotic dolts! Begging your pardon, Headmistress," he inclined his head in a subtle apology, "but I believe my evening here is at its end. Good night." And with that he swept away from the Head Table in a swirl of green robes.

*******************************************************

This is foolish. I could be back in my room, reading a book. Writing a letter to Mum and Dad. Gathering the courage to go and see Ron. Anything but sitting here and being a pathetic little wallflower!

Coming to the party had not been a bad idea after all, Hermione had realized. She had enjoyed being with her friends again in a setting that was familiar and comforting. She had felt the dark shroud of her depression and anguish start to lift slightly as the night had worn on, but now that the dancing had begun she felt terribly out of place. Several of the students had come over to ask her to dance, and both Harry and Ginny had made efforts to coax her onto the floor, but to no avail. "I'm just not in the proper frame of mind right now," she told them. "Please, go. Have a good time. I'll enjoy sitting here and watching. Really."

But the truth was, she was not enjoying herself. Harry and Ginny were obviously anxious to spend some well-deserved time alone together, and without Ron there to keep her company, Hermione felt like a rather sullen and deflated third wheel.

Oh, enough of this silliness. I will just go and wish Headmistress – I mean Minerva – a good evening and go back to my room. In any event, he has already left...there really is no point in staying any longer.

As she put her hands on the table to rise from her seat, a hand suddenly touched her shoulder lightly...almost tentatively. Turning, she found herself staring into the shadowy eyes of Professor Snape.

"Miss Granger? May I have this dance?

*******************************************************

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is a goddess. I'm a Pisces.

Authors Note: This is my first foray into the world of fan fiction, and the first thing that I have written outside of Christmas cards in at least five years. Please review, and please, PLEASE be as brutally honest as you wish! I welcome any hints, suggestions or disdainful finger-pointing. Thank you SO much!

Rated for later chapters and intended plot development.

This story is dedicated to my husband, who has been telling me to write for many years...and is now allowing me to do so. I will love you forever.