Severus Snape by fizzabella

Fizzabella — Severus Snape

I pause on the threshold of the Great Hall at Hogwarts and look around the huge, crowded room. I’ve already spotted Hermione sitting at a table with some of her friends from school days; she looks happy tonight and so lovely that I have to catch my breath. She’s dressed in something very dark green and—dare I say it—slinky. The silver and gold knotwork necklace I gave her for her birthday gleams around her neck, and the emeralds in the matching earrings twinkle in the candlelight.

Almost reflexively, my hand slides into the pocket of my robes where I check to make sure the little velvet box is still there. Minerva owled me in my quarters as I was getting ready for the party in a complete panic about whether we’d ordered enough wine, and as nervous as I am about my plans for later, I got distracted. This is the fourth or fifth time I have checked that pocket for that box, and I wish I could simply calm myself—I’m as nervous as a fourth year trying to work up the courage to ask a girl to the Yule Ball. What I plan to ask Hermione for later is considerably more than her company for four hours of her life on Christmas night. I force that thought to the back of my mind. I used to be quite good at directing my thoughts—the ability to do so is basic to being able to occlude one’s thoughts—but I have not had a need to practice Occlumency in five years, so I am a bit rusty, I suppose.

I let my gaze wander over the room as I make my way to Hermione. So many people are here tonight, the fifth New Year’s Eve since the defeat of Tom Riddle. Looking around the room, I see so many people who played such key roles in Riddle’s defeat. Minerva has gotten over her panic over the wine and is conversing with Horace Slughorn and Kingsley Shacklebolt. Horace is in his element; he has collected the Minister for Magic!

Hermione has been saving a seat for me, and she looks up as I approach. Amazing, that lovely smile is for me alone. Even as I reach the table, I see Minerva, Shacklebolt and Slughorn edging back towards the table. I wish I had thought to cast a repelling charm; I don’t particularly want an audience tonight.

“Severus! You look so handsome!” I seat myself on the bench next to her, and she leans close, wrapping her arm around me in a hug that I return.

I murmur into her ear, “You are so beautiful, it takes my breath away,” so the words belong only to the two of us, and smile to myself when she shivers. She’s made it clear she likes my voice; I find I like making her shiver. I look up from Hermione when I hear Miss Lovegood—Mrs. Scamander now—say that she hopes I will be promoted to Headmaster when Headmistress McGonagall retires. I blink in surprise when she adds she thought I was a good Headmaster before.

I express my surprise at her having thought so and add that she had been rather a pest that last school year before Riddle fell. She, along with Neville Longbottom and Ginevra Weasley, spent much of their sixth year provoking the Carrows, Riddle’s pet instructors at Hogwarts, and I feared for their safety. Secretly, I had admired them very much when I wasn’t trying to keep the Carrows from killing them. I was shocked out of my thoughts by Mrs. Scamander’s next question, though. After an artless comment about Nargles and sparkling wine not being a good combination, she asked, “Did Hermione say ‘yes’ when you gave her the ring?” The former Miss Lovegood had been rather good at Divination, but how did she know about the ring in its box in my pocket? Minerva looks over at us, and I must have an odd look on my face, because Minerva immediately turns to Mrs. Scamander and asks, “What are your New Year’s Resolutions, my dear?”

I immediately focus my attention on Hermione, and if Mrs. Scamander replies to the Headmistress, I don’t hear it.

Hermione leans close to whisper in my ear now. “A ring, Severus?”

Well. I had wondered how I would manage this. What do the Muggles say? Go with the flow? I reach into my pocket, draw out the velvet-covered box from the jeweler in Diagon Alley, and take out the ring I commissioned for Hermione. It’s platinum, set with an oval diamond in the center, a triangular-cut emerald on one side and a triangular-cut ruby on the other. She looks at the ring, glittering in my hand, and her eyes widen in surprise.

“Hermione,” I begin, wondering how to express my love to her, “you are so very precious to me. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

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