Seven: Barn Dance

Seven Brides for Seven Snapes 7: Barn Dance

Severus twitched his cuffs so that the merest quarter-inch of white showed, then turned to the mirror to check his black silk cravat and do up the last few buttons. Hermione had persuaded him to let his hair grow so he could tie it back, which he found suited him, despite exposing more of his face than either he or the world was accustomed to seeing. Mr Stitch had done his best work – at that price, Severus would have removed the man's entrails and personally embroidered rude words on them if he'd done anything less than the best – and the new suit was perfect. Severus knew he was by no means beautiful, but height and carriage, good shoulders and a bucketload of attitude filled out excellent tailoring to produce something he felt Hermione would approve of.

It rather surprised him that her approval had become significant.

Still, he supposed one couldn't live with a woman, share her work, watch her take chaos in hand and make something like order out of it, without her assuming some importance in one's life. And while her recklessly straightforward approach to problems sometimes gave him pause, he'd been proved right in his choice time and again. How prescient of him.

And of course, there was the amazing and frequent sex, which put a spring in his step that he had to work hard to disguise.

And, surprisingly, the companionship. A week into their marriage, Hermione had claimed one of the smaller parlours as 'theirs'. She had ruthlessly removed any furnishings she didn't like, with no regard whatsoever to family history (the Optio had been very obstructive until she made a gift to him of the utterly vile orange crystal and silver epergne; Secunda and Octavus, however, were rapidly becoming her devoted slaves), scavenged whatever she fancied from all corners of the house, filled the walls with books, scattered cushions in every conceivable colour everywhere, and named it a 'snug'. His brothers were given to understand that they were not welcome there except in circumstances of direst emergency. And in that room Hermione had shown Severus the most extraordinary thing of all: that she apparently liked to be with him. "Snug" had never been a term he had particularly understood – nor felt the need to understand – before now, but she was working changes.

Of course, he wasn't entirely sure that unauthorised changes were part of the arrangement he had envisioned when proposing. He raised his chin and scowled down his nose at his reflection. Good. Still as intimidating as ever.

Hermione sneaked her arms around his waist from behind and peeped mischievously round his arm.

"Gorgeous," she said.

"Hardly."

"Oh, but you are. Do the 'you are a flobberworm beneath my heel' expression again!"

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Dare I hope, Hermione, that you are going to at least pretend a proper respect for me in public?"

"There is always hope, Severus."

She shoved him aside so she could hog the mirror, and thus he was able to conceal the surprise her last words had engendered. She might even be right.

Well, even if she was completely wrong, there was at least satisfaction. He could live with that. And, looking at her in her finery, he knew there would be a great deal of satisfaction during the day ahead, rubbing everyone's noses in his success. He went to stand behind her as she did a last check of her make-up. She was wearing a dress in some sort of pale russet tone that clung and swirled rather attractively, with shoes and a short jacket in cream. His wife. He placed the string of amber beads he had bought for her around her throat, fumbling a little with the clasp under her unruly hair. Yes, satisfaction, that was it, he thought as she turned to kiss him in thanks, heedless of her lipstick.

They found the boys waiting at the foot of the main staircase. The front door had been forced open for the grand occasion, and the late summer sun flooded the wide entrance hall, warming the newly-polished floor and glinting on the glass in the picture frames. Standing in the warm light, Severus' brothers, dressed exactly like him in severe black with their hair tied back, looked like monoliths hewn out of coal. They would shock the wizarding world, bursting on the scene like this. Walking among them, inspecting their outfits, smoothing a shoulder here and there or counselling the doing-up of just one more button, Hermione was like a ray of the sunshine that she had bulldozed into the old house – seemingly fragile, but fierce and inexorable. Severus felt another rush of that... satisfaction.

Hermione stood back and admired her handiwork.

"Very nice," she said approvingly. "Now remember – you're on your best behaviour, and that's with capital Bs. No rising to any provocation. We're going to show that the Snapes are better than the lot of them. Ready?"

Severus left his vantage point half-way up the stairs, reflecting agreeably that at least he had not succumbed to the docility that had his entire pack of little brothers nodding seriously. He offered his arm to Hermione.

"Shall we go?"

*

Whatever his doubts about Hermione's course of action, Severus was secretly delighted at seeing Lucius' and Narcissa's jaws drop as he and his family Apparated en masse onto the terrace at Malfoy Manor. They had, of course, known for weeks that he had brothers – the Prophet had squeezed some juicy headlines from the Diagon Alley disaster – but coming face to face with the reality was, judging by their expressions, rather like being smacked over the head with a wet haddock. Clearly, he would have to race Lucius to the whisky stash.

"Mrs Malfoy," Hermione was saying graciously, "I do hope you won't take it amiss that I brought rather a large escort, but you see, I was keen that my brothers should have their first experience of British wizarding society in the very best circumstances."

Narcissa snapped her perfectly painted mouth shut and glared elegantly. The boys looked as grim as a Russian winter, which meant they were nervous. Lucius had that twitch in his cheek which meant he was about to start giggling. Merlin, it was going to be a long day.

"I'm delighted to meet ... all ... your brothers, Mrs Snape," said Narcissa tightly. "Ah, I see the Minister. Do excuse me."

Hermione, quite used to being snubbed by pure-blood snobs, took it with a mere glint of the eyes and turned her smile on Lucius.

"Might we know where to put our contributions to the charity auction, please?"

But Lucius, damn him, had followed in his wife's wake, leaving Hermione to shrug and Severus and his brothers to bristle.

"It's okay – don't get all steamed up on my account, please," she said grimly. "Let's just show them who's got more breeding, shall we? Now, where do we put these things?" She gestured to the assorted magical wonders, trinkets all, but pretty and clever, that they had created for the occasion. They looked around, and Severus was slightly taken aback to see a small posse of young women approaching, their eyes fixed firmly on his brothers even as they greeted Hermione.

Ginny Weasley was at the head of the group. Hermione received a peck on the cheek and a brief whisper in her ear, which made her chuckle, before the Weasley girl tucked her hand into Seneca's elbow. "I'll show you where to put it," she said, too innocently for Severus' liking. She'd always been an unruly wench at school. Seneca didn't look remotely put out, however.

"I'd be very much obliged. Thank you," he replied, turning on the Voice and bowing slightly.

Severus watched dismayed as, one by one, his brothers were led away, meekly uttering courteous platitudes, by Cho Chang, the Patil twins, Lavender Brown, and Luna Lovegood, the last-named already promising Septimius a glimpse of the Rambastuous Blintoads in the Malfoys' lily pond.

"Severus, close your mouth," admonished Hermione. She smiled up at him happily. "You know, it wouldn't harm you to learn a few manners either."

He claimed her hand and raised it to his lips.

"What do I need manners for? I've already got a wife!"

She laughed. "Abominable man. Now come along and pretend to be a human being, and I promise I'll treat you with a proper awe and respect."

"I shall enjoy watching you try not to implode from the effort, Hermione. Lead on. Lead on to purgatory."

*

What amazed Severus most about the next hour was the way Hermione effortlessly negotiated wizarding society, exchanging small talk, arranging conversations so that he was obliged to contribute the absolute minimum, deflecting most of the people he really didn't want to talk to, and delicately not stepping in when a truly barbed comment was justified. He was beginning to wonder whether the person on his arm was some sort of changeling, when she said, "Merlin, all this socialising with morons gives me a headache. I'd forgotten how much I hated it back at the Ministry." She snagged a glass of orange juice from a passing house elf and knocked it back. "Severus, take me to the dance floor before I bite someone!"

He had no inclination to dance, personally, but the suggestion did have much to recommend it in that they were unlikely to have to talk to anyone else while waltzing under the apple trees.

Severus had become quite absorbed in the business of showing the world that yes, Snape really had married a young and pretty woman, yes, Snape could dance, and yes, Snape was capable of some amusing wandless magic while performing said dance with said pretty woman (Potter's suddenly slippery wine glass, which he was forced to juggle to a pleasing – for Severus – conclusion was particularly entertaining), when he became aware that his brothers had congregated nearby and were looking speculatively at the young women who were already twirling with their respective partners. Surveying the field, he saw nothing but a depressingly large number of his former students, and promptly rebelled against sharing the space with them. He'd had enough of that at Hogwarts, and while Albus and the others might have thought it 'fun' to 'spend relaxing time' with the brats, he himself would rather try talking philosophy with a Skrewt. He steered Hermione to a loveseat and drew her down beside him.

"It's nice to see everyone again," she said, watching the dancers.

"I thought you just said you didn't like socialising..."

"I said 'see', not 'talk to'. I like to get an idea of how everyone's doing. It doesn't mean I want to spend three hours listening to Lavender and Parvati talk about the best spells for curling hair. I'm quite content to let Dean and Seamus put up with that," she said, gesturing to the two young men, who were looking glassy-eyed. "Mind you," she continued, "to be fair, Lavender and Parvati are capable of putting up an intelligent conversation once in a while. They're probably just taking revenge for hours of Quidditch and football talk."

She settled comfortably against Severus' side.

"You dance well," she said to him. "I'm glad. I see Harry and Neville still haven't improved since our fourth year." And indeed, Miss Weasley and the other Patil twin were wincing from crushed toes and unanticipated changes of direction.

"You will note, however, that my Slytherins are very capable," he replied smugly, as Draco whirled Miss Lovegood past, followed by Blaise Zabini with Cho Chang in his arms. "I enjoyed rubbing Minerva's nose in that after all the effort she put into trying to train her Gryffindors."

"How on earth did you get them to keep quiet about 'Severus Snape, Prancing Master'?" exclaimed Hermione, then adopted what he assumed was meant to be an imitation of his own voice. "'There will be no foolish broomstick-waving in this class – I will teach you the subtle art and science of the pirouette...' Ouch!"

She giggled and fell silent.

Severus couldn't remember the last time in his life when someone had felt free to tease him like that. He leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes for a moment, and put his arm round Hermione's shoulder. He opened them again when the music changed and he felt Hermione tense.

His brothers had moved forward with the clear aim of inviting the young women, who looked far from unkeen, to dance. It wasn't surprising, in the face of the approaching phalanx of tall, black-clad echoes of everyone's second-favourite bogeyman, that the local boys (so to speak) quickly scooped up their partners into a romping polka, leaving them little choice but to dance along or be dragged across the floor in a most ungainly fashion. Hermione was as tense as a cat about to spring, but to Severus' surprise, his brothers simply lounged, patently waiting to pounce, but with a show of nonchalance that impressed even him.

Ginny Weasley was the first to free herself, twisting away from Potter to catch hold of Seneca's outstretched hand. Then, one by one, the others followed suit, leaving their rejected swains to grumble while the Snapes danced. Amusing as it was to see Potter and Malfoy in cahoots, and although he had no doubts that his brothers could squash any opposition, Severus was aware that Hermione was winding up to a pitch of anxiety.

"Should I intervene?" he inquired as Zabini managed to snag Chang back from Salvius.

"Not yet," she answered tightly.

She got up and beckoned to Salvius. She placed a hand on his arm. "Well done," she said. "You didn't grab at her or hang on when it might have hurt her. I'm proud of you. And, if it's any comfort," she added, assessing the other girl's face, "I think she's thinking exactly the same thing, and Zabini's going to find his privates hexed inside out unless he does some very fast talking. That is not the way to treat a witch these days."

Severus was content to let Hermione manage the situation. There was no way he was going to get embroiled in a hormone-fuelled diplomatic nightmare. Besides, it wasn't his brothers doing the pouting. Chang had finished the dance by turning her back on Zabini and returning to Salvius with a radiant smile; none of the other girls had abandoned her partner. Snapes, one; rest of the world, nil.

And then George Weasley had to show up with the brilliant idea of an impromptu Quidditch tournament, on which bets would be taken, the bookie's profits to go to the charity of the day. And Lucius had to be drunk enough to think it a charming idea. And Draco had to mention that he had a shed full of racing brooms he was testing for his company's next issue. And Potter had to repossess the Weasley girl's hand and say pointedly, "Well, those Snapes are a ready-made team all by themselves. How about we make another, lads?"

*

All Hermione said after she lifted her face from her hands was, "Just play fair, please, whatever happens." She went to join the other young women, who clustered round her, whispering excitedly. Severus saw her turn towards him once, her expression at once woebegone and hopeful, as she gave him a half-smile. He nodded curtly and drew his brothers with him towards the field where Draco had his practice hoops set up.

"You heard her," he growled.

"Yes, brother, we did," said Seneca grimly.

"Besides," said Sejanus, "there are ways of fouling that are really difficult to spot – even for the expert referees."

"Your word – all of you," insisted Severus. "We are here to start building a reputation. The chicanery only starts once everyone believes in us. Got it?"

"Anyway," Septimius said as he laid his jacket aside on a bench, "we won't need to cheat. You know that last season we beat Mongolia, China, Azerbaijan, Ukraine and Liechtenstein .... Who else was there?" He looked to Scribonius.

"You really do miss girls in Novgorod, don't you?" Severus muttered. Then, aloud, "Who was your seventh?"

"Ivan the Inexorable," Scrib replied. "Name adopted to make up for the fact that it's really Ivan Buttercup," he added, on seeing Severus' raised eyebrow. "He was our Keeper."

"I shall endeavour to be equally inexorable. Just keep the bloody Quaffle at the other end. I haven't played for years."

He started to lead them onto the pitch, but then stopped.

"Oh, and don't forget – we win."

The offer of a ride on the new 'Greased Lightning' in exchange for refereeing the match brought Hooch smartly out of the bushes where she had been cavorting with Gwenog Jones. On her whistle, the fourteen players took to the air, Sejanus and Potter facing off as Seekers, Ron Weasley pasty-faced in front of the goal hoops at the far end, Sidney and Seneca armed with Beaters' bats, and Salvius, Scribonius and Septimius already flying rings round the other team as they passed the Quaffle tauntingly to and fro.

Severus found he enjoyed playing again, as long as the ball didn't come too close too often. He made a couple of easy saves, let one through, kicked the next right back into Longbottom's face, and felt he was cutting quite a dash. His brothers were humiliating the opposition, which was as it should be. But then things started to get nasty. Thomas and Finnigan were called three times for using their bats on players rather than on Bludgers. Zabini gratuitously fouled Septimius so badly that the boy had so sit out for ten minutes. Potter, trying to get away from Sejanus, made such a reckless swerve that he scratched cuts into Seneca's face with the tail of his broomstick. Severus knew his brothers were tough, so he restricted his retaliation to loud demands for more severe penalties. His brothers, clearly furious, kept their promise as well.

Good, thought Severus, as he cleared a badly-aimed shot from Draco. Such discipline boded well for future encounters in the field of business. Now if Sejanus would just get the Snitch, they could get off the pitch and rub their victory in the whelps' smug little faces.

Everything went black.