The Yule Ball - Part One

"Did you hear the rumour that Madam Rosmerta has sold Professor Dumbledore eight-hundred barrels of mulled mead?"

Angelina Johnson's voice interrupted Alicia's thoughts as they studied together in the Gryffindor common room. She looked up at her friend and smiled.

"Yeah, George Weasley told me yesterday. It doesn't take a genius to work out that one's a whopper." Alicia grinned at Angelina's reaction; apparently she'd been hoping that particular piece of gossip was based in truth.

"I was hoping Professor Dumbledore would allow some of us older students to enjoy a little tipple at the Yule Ball..."

"Well, we might be 'of age' now, Angelina, but I don't think Hogwarts is about to start serving alcohol. Remember, fourth-years are invited too, plus some younger kids might come along as guests."

"I suppose," Angelina murmured.

"I heard Neville's taking Ginny Weasley."

"He's a good lad, Longbottom; I'm glad he's giving Ginny a chance to dress up and go dancing."

"So, what are you wearing?" Alicia asked. "Got your outfit yet?"

"I've got two dresses to choose from. Can't decide. I think I like the purple one best, but it might be a bit too... skimpy," Angelina replied, laughing.

"I bet you look fantastic in a cute little dress," Alicia assessed, looking at the dark-skinned young woman with new appreciation. "You'll be the belle of the ball!"

"Hardly." Angelina scoffed. "Alicia, have you looked in the mirror recently?"

Alicia laughed, and then noticed Angelina's earnest expression. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," Angelina said. "Haven't you noticed the way boys stare at you in the corridor?"

"They stare at both of us," Alicia replied dismissively. "We're on the Quidditch team, remember? We live in a goldfish bowl. Everyone knows who we are."

"I'm telling you, that's not why they're looking at you, Alicia. You're a babe."

"Don't be daft," Alicia snapped defensively; she was finding Angelina's comments difficult to believe.

Alicia had always thought of herself as a bit of an ugly duckling: a chunky girl who hardly ever smiled. She'd never invited much interest from the opposite sex, and boys seemed to think her formidable. Over the last year she'd lost some puppy fat, and her face had changed from that of a surly girl into a mature young woman, but she doubted this made her good-looking. Not to mention the fact that looks had never been high on the list of her priorities when admiring men... Or rather, one man in particular.

"I'm not daft," Angelina continued. "You just can't see it. You come across as confident, and you've got a sultry thing going on as well. With the right dress robes you'll be a stunner," Angelina said sincerely.

"Maybe you can help me find something to wear, then?" Alicia asked, tentatively feeling her way into the alien world of femininity which she'd avoided for so long.

"I'd love to!" Angelina grinned. "And what about your make-up?"

Alicia leaned forward in her chair and was about to speak when Fred Weasley called out across the common room.

"Oi! Angelina!*"

Angelina cursed lightly under her breath and turned to face him. "What?*"

"Want to go to the ball with me?*" asked Fred.

Angelina looked at him for a moment, wondering if her purple dress would clash with his red hair. Deciding she could wear her long, black gown instead, she replied, "All right, then.*"

When she turned back to Alicia, Angelina was grinning.

"Oh my God!" Alicia exclaimed. "You've already bagged your date! Nice one."

"Yeah, well, I kind of saw it coming, if you know what I mean? Fred's a good laugh, anyway, and I know I'll have fun with him. What about you? Anyone asked you out yet?"

"Nah, and to be honest, I think I scare them off."

"Why?"

"I dunno. Boys just don't seem to know what to say to me."

Angelina laughed. "That's because you're gorgeous! They're nervous and worried you'll say no!"

Alicia rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't know which planet you're living on, Ange."

"I think you're the one on a different planet. Loads of boys have got the hots for you. I know at least two in our Charms class who want to ask you out, and there's four Gryffindor seventh-years who've made a bet on which one of them will be your date." Angelina paused for a moment then grinned slyly. "Best of all, there's Brent Armstrong. He's had a crush on you for ages."

"Brent? That looker from Ravenclaw? In the year above us?"

"That's him."

"But he's... He's so... fit!"

"Yes, he is, Alicia. Gorgeous boy. Man. Whatever. I'll bet you ten Sickles he'll have asked you to the Yule Ball by this weekend."

Penelope Clearwater descended the staircase to the Entrance Hall, taking the greatest of care, owing to her elegant high-heeled shoes and her long, flowing Georgette-crêpe dress. She usually didn't pay much attention to the marble structure, hastily navigating the stairway every day, yearning for a full stomach. Only now did she appreciate its ostentatious length; the Marble Staircase enabled a girl to properly flaunt her attributes.

Pierre was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, standing erect and wearing beautifully-tailored dress-robes. As she stepped down the last marble stair, the young man from Beauxbatons took her hand, placing a gracious kiss upon it. Penelope's silver bracelet slipped back along her arm with a tingle.

"Tu es vraiment magnifique!" Pierre said, forgetting to speak in English and appearing slightly embarrassed about his oversight.

"Thank you," Penelope replied, and she blushed, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder in excitement. Oh it felt good to be pampered! And by a Frenchman no less! Pierre was absolutely charming, even though he was a bit younger than her.

Penelope had become acquainted with Pierre whilst performing her Prefect duties, escorting groups of foreign students around Hogwarts. He had been so charmingly unobtrusive when he'd asked her to accompany him to the Yule Ball, so she had quickly said yes without any real hesitation; Percy had not been invited by the Ministry, after all. Everything seemed so natural and relaxed. Nothing was forced, nothing expected, and she was free to show off her slim figure, clad in light-blue dress-robes, to anyone she wished: to the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, as well as to a certain dark professor. It couldn't hurt to be noticed, could it?

Pierre offered her his arm then slowly led her through the crowd, entertaining her with a light conversation in his heavy French accent, and Penelope felt as though she were walking on air. Everything was going perfectly until something completely unexpected caught her eye.

"Oh, no," she murmured as she laid eyes on the person she least expected to see.

Percy Weasley had just entered through the antechamber's oak door and was looking around smugly. What the hell was he doing there? Why hadn't he bothered to tell her he was coming? Then again, judging by his minimal effort when purchasing the cheap bracelet, she wouldn't be surprised if he'd simply forgotten that he actually had a girlfriend at Hogwarts.

A hot, twisting knot burned in Penelope's stomach as she contemplated the implications. Had he come alone? She couldn't see his date anywhere in his vicinity. Did this mean he expected Penelope to be his dance partner? She had to find out what he was doing here.

Penelope cut through the crowd with fierce determination, Pierre trotting behind her.

"W'at eez it, Penelope, w'ere aare you goin'?" called Pierre after her.

"We are going to meet my long-forgotten boyfriend," she replied nonchalantly. By the time she reached Percy, her face was flushed, and she felt as though her throat had caught fire.

"Ah, Penelope... I see you've been expecting me..." said Percy patronisingly as soon as she came into hearing distance.

Penelope halted several feet away. "No, actually, I haven't been expecting you," she said, crossing her arms defiantly. Did he really think she would be eagerly waiting for him, just like that, as if nothing had happened? Had he expected her to attend the Yule Ball all alone?

Pierre joined Penelope and courteously offered her his elbow, which she took with a deliberate sweet smile. He clearly had little conception of what was going on.

"What is the meaning of this?" Percy asked slowly, his eyes darting from Penelope to the handsome French boy next to her, a little pink colouring Percy's pale, freckled cheeks.

"The meaning of what, exactly?" she asked innocently, smiling sweetly again.

"What are you doing here, with... with... Why are you with someone else?"

Penelope felt a fist of steely triumph unfurl in her stomach. "Unlike you, I am still a Hogwarts student, and this is a school dance. It just so happens that you need a partner to attend it," Penelope replied. "I should be asking you what you are doing here, I thought..."

"Who is this?" Percy cut in, looking past her and measuring Penelope's dance partner up and down.

Penelope turned to her forgotten date, noticing the young man appeared quite uncomfortable. Unfortunately, her indignant rage prevented her from tending to the needs of the boy's ego. She looked Percy in the eye, relishing the moment.

"Pierre, from Beauxbatons. I've been showing him arou..."

"I don't care what you've been showing him," Percy said harshly.

Penelope raised her eyebrows, surprised by his unfeeling demeanour, and released Pierre's elbow. Maybe she had gone a tad too far; Percy had never been this cold with her before.

She sighed heavily, realising their relationship was long past the point of no return, and she'd simply been hiding from the truth for four long months. She decided to take the matters into her hands and finish this whole mess, once and for all.

"Percy, look, I have something to tell..."

Percy interrupted, mid-flow. "I don't want to believe this! The moment I turn my back to you..."

"Excuse me?" she asked perplexedly, the wind dropping instantly from her sails.

Percy noticed her hesitancy and made his move. Penelope watched his tall, svelte form moving closer to her, and a hollow formed in her stomach as a new notion formed in her mind. Perhaps she'd succeeded in making Percy jealous, and he was about to offer his heartfelt apology for abandoning her, sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her in front of the whole school... The possibility made her swoon, rendering her incapable of heeding her own thoughts about this potentially imminent reunion.

Percy stopped just a few inches away from her face, wearing a diffident expression. Penelope's stomach flipped in anticipation. "What are you doing here, Percy?" she asked carefully.

"I've recently been appointed as personal assistant to Mr Crouch, and I'm here to take his place, representing the Ministry's Department of International Magical Co-operation."

Percy's coldness shattered Penelope's crystal bowl of delusion into a thousand pieces in the blink of an eye.

"You – You've been promoted," she stammered.

"Yes, I have," Percy replied, his pomposity becoming evident once more.

She couldn't believe how much he had changed. Where was the boy with whom she fell in love? The boy who wrote all those long letters and adored her almost to the point of worship? That boy was gone, she realised all of a sudden, finally seeing things with clarity. Percy's neglect of his girlfriend was not merely because he'd committed all his time and energy into the Department of International Magical Co-operation. It was because he'd become a conceited, arrogant toady.

Penelope took a deep breath to prepare herself for what she was about to say, for it seemed their relationship had reached another important milestone: the one which read 'THE END'.

But before she could utter her first sound, Percy gazumped her.

"I'm just glad I've realised what you're made of, Penny, before it was too late."

Penelope frowned with confusion, unconsciously taking a step backwards. She opened her mouth, intending to retort, but she couldn't find words strong enough.

Percy held both hands behind his back and lifted his chin. "It's over."

His words hit Penelope in the stomach like a body blow, and for a moment she seemed to have no air in her lungs. She could barely comprehend the sequence of events, and she watched as Percy strode away, towards the crowd assembling in the Great Hall, awaiting the arrival of the Triwizard champions and the commencement of the formal dance.

"Oh, yeah?" she yelled after him. A few people turned to stare, but Penelope didn't care. "You know, you took the words right out of my mouth!" She should be the one dumping him, not the other way around, and she wanted the whole world to see that.

Percy didn't acknowledge her in any way, making her even angrier.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" she yelled again and hurried after him.

But Percy had disappeared into the crowd as surely as if he'd slipped on a Cloak of Invisibility.

Belatedly, Penelope looked behind her, hoping to grab Pierre by the hand and lead him into the Great Hall and onto the dance floor. She would show Percy what she was made of and what he would be missing!

However, Penelope soon realised that Pierre was long gone; her beau from Beauxbatons had abandoned her too.

She came to a standstill amongst the flow of happy couples entering the sparkling, glazed Great Hall, feeling all alone, dumped and neglected, as though a bucketful of misery had been splashed over her head. She wished the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her. She hesitated for a moment, but soon decided she did not dare to enter the Great Hall alone. She did not trust her suspiciously moistening eyes, and she would not give Percy the satisfaction of seeing her cry. So she staggered through the crowd, holding back her tears.

Penelope didn't know where to go; she just wanted to hide from the world. She furiously wiped the first telltale tears from her rosy cheeks, Percy's wretched bracelet slipping along her arm with a soft tingle again, just like when Pierre kissed the back of her hand.

She ran up the Grand Staircase until she was out of breath, and then stared at the worthless piece of jewellery and discovered she couldn't stand the sight of it anymore. Pulling off the wristlet furiously, she scratched her wrist in the process, and then threw it on the floor with vehemence.

Realising she had stopped near the portal to the Boathouse, she deliberately stepped on the silver bracelet, heard a satisfying snapping sound, and stepped into the secret passageway without looking back.

The sound of rippling water lapping around the Boathouse hypnotised Penelope until she lost track of time. The cold night air bit at her skin, so she cast Bluebell Flames and sat huddled in a corner, trying to keep warm.

After fleeing the opening dance of the Yule Ball, she had been greeted by the portrait of Percival Pratt – how that name seemed so fitting! – and now the fretful poet leaned against the edge of his frame, offering her a handkerchief, seeming to forget he was merely oil and canvas.

Eventually Penelope picked up her wand and conjured a hanky out of thin air. Blowing her nose, she resolved to hide herself away until the end of the formal dance. Maybe she'd return afterwards for the Christmas Day feast. Or maybe not.

The portrait cleared its throat, and Penelope rubbed her eyes, smudging black mascara stains down her cheeks. She then turned to the poet who had granted her access to the underground escape, and he straightened out his parchment and began to read.

"Some believe the loveliest of sights

Are those of a maiden's tears.

Whether they are from joy or mirth,

Or emerge from grief or fears.

But my heart is not roused by your tears this night

As you hide here without a friend

Oh wise and gentle heart, do not despair,

Everything will work out in the end."

Penelope smiled weakly at the well-meaning poet, whose painted, pale face was a picture of perturbed sadness, and she felt another crippling stab of pain deep in her abdomen.

She continued to be surprised by the strength of her emotional reaction. Penelope was unsure if she felt heartbroken about Percy ending their relationship or angry with him for pipping her at the post, humiliated by being so publically dumped or annoyed with herself for losing her charming Beauxbatons date, Pierre. The twisting knife in her stomach, plus her clenched fists and sore eyes, suggested she was feeling all of these things, all at once.

What would Professor Snape think of her, hiding away like a great big wuss, crying over spilt milk? No doubt Snape would have been clear-headed enough to think of a suitably biting response to Percy's declaration, outwitting the jumped-up little twerp in a fraction of a second. A small smile crept across Penelope's face as she imagined her Potions master coming to her aid and hitting Percy with a choice curse, and then lifting her up in his arms and carrying her to his private chambers in the dungeon...

Her fantasy was cut short by the sound of creaking hinges, and she turned to see Georgina and Luca stepping through the entrance to the Boathouse, both wearing expressions of concern, carrying her discarded bracelet.

"Oh, Penny," Georgina began awkwardly, taking in the Ravenclaw's red eyes and mascara trails. She quickly Scourgified the sodden handkerchief and began wiping Penelope's face.

"What happened, Ciccia?" Luca asked, conjuring a blanket and wrapping the warm material around Penelope's frozen shoulders.

Penelope gasped for air, hoping to curtail the sob clawing at her throat. "P-Percy d-dumped me!"

"Oh, love," Luca said, kneeling down and putting his arm around her. "Are you alright?"

Georgina firmly held Penelope's chin, rubbing the black stains from her cheeks. "Of course she's not alright, you daft moron!"

After a brief moment of discord, the three students began to smile.

"I'm angrier that he dumped me before I could dump him!" Penelope stated emphatically. "The stupid prat humiliated me in front of everyone..."

Luca squeezed her shoulders. "I don't think anyone really noticed, Ciccia."

"We only realised you'd disappeared when your seat at the Prefect's table was empty," Georgina explained. "No-one knew where you were, so as soon as the meal finished, Luca and I came looking for you. Then we found this at the entrance to the secret passageway."

Penelope observed the bracelet in Georgina's outstretched palm had been repaired, and her face crumpled.

"I wasn't thinking about the tournament," she confessed. "I was furious with Percy. And myself."

"But you're still in? I mean, you can't drop out now; you did so well in the first task," Luca encouraged.

"Of course she's still in, Luca; she signed the parchment, remember? No dropping out for any of us!"

Penelope accepted the proffered bracelet. "I'm sorry I took it out on the jewellery. Thanks for repairing it."

"No problem." Georgina took a seat next to Penelope and dipped into her handbag, finding eyeliner and mascara then skilfully applying both, covering up Penny's red and swollen eyes.

"You've missed the Christmas feast," Georgina told her as she worked on Penelope's make-up. "But Luca and I saved you a bite to eat." Georgina nodded in the Hufflepuff's direction, and he quickly produced a squashed turkey sandwich from inside his robes.

Penelope accepted the food gratefully, and Georgina paused to allow her to take a bite.

"It was Georgie who suggested you might be down here," Luca continued.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Penelope offered, in between mouthfuls of turkey. "I just had to get away, and this was the first place that popped into my mind."

"I can think of warmer places to unburden a broken heart," Luca commented with a smile.

"Yeah, I wasn't really thinking straight," Penelope replied. "But I'm glad you found me."

Luca gave Penelope's hand a gentle squeeze.

"No need to get mushy," Georgina said with a grimace. The Slytherin rose to her feet. "I'm going to get you something to wash down that turkey butty."

"Fancy something stiff?" Luca asked with a smirk.

"Definitely." Penelope smiled.

"I'll get you the stiffest drink I can find." Georgina lifted her illuminated wand tip to inspect the Ravenclaw's make-up. Satisfied, she turned to leave. "Meet you at the bottom of the Marble Staircase in five minutes' time?"

Penelope nodded, heartened by the caring of two unexpected allies.

"Well, I suppose this means I'm free to pursue Snape, now," Penelope said, attempting to be cheerful as she sat down on the staircase to feel the coolness of marble through her dress-robes.

Luca smiled, sitting down next to her and playfully nudging her in the ribs. "You're assuming, of course, that Snape is interested in the opposite sex."

At that, Penelope laughed, appreciating Luca's kindness and humour. "Why do you believe Snape is gay, anyway?"

Luca leaned back on the Marble Staircase, his manner easy and confident. "You must've noticed the way he billows around the castle, his cloak flapping around, drawing everyone's attention. And the way he minces his words."

"That doesn't mean he's attracted to men, Luca. That just makes him sexy!"

"Maybe. But he also has this haughty, upper-class style. I've seen it on dozens of gay wizards, especially Slytherins."

"He does speak beautifully, and he can be supercilious. But I think that's because of his intelligence, not because he's gay." Penelope turned to face Luca, whose eyes were drifting across a swathe of couples as they left the Great Hall and passed the bottom of the stairs. "Really, Luca, your argument is based on nothing more than wishful thinking!" She softened her statement with a little giggle.

"Laugh all you like, Pen. But you can't deny this: Snape isn't married, and he doesn't have a girlfriend. In fact, if you ask around, nobody's ever seen him in the company of a woman. I'm telling you: he's gay."

"You're saying he's in the closet?"

"Totally."

"And you're going to be the one who entices him out?"

"Got it in one!"

Luca and Penelope shared a chuckle, and then Luca noticed Professor Moody hobbling out of the Great Hall. As the gnarly-faced man walked past them, his mad-eye swivelled in their direction, bringing an instant end to their mirth. They watched the eccentric professor walk through the Entrance Hall and out into the snowy night air.

Penelope shivered.

"There's one other thing," Luca said quietly.

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Dumbledore."

"What about him?"

"Well, you must have noticed how much time Snape spends with him – more than the other professors. They always seem as thick as thieves." Luca smiled conspiratorially.

"I really don't see what that has to do with anything," Penelope replied.

Luca frowned, perplexed. Suddenly, his features brightened. "Oh my God, Pen, don't tell me you don't know?"

"Know what?"

Luca was almost beside himself with delight. "Dumbledore is gay."

Penelope's eyes shot wide open, and her breath caught in her throat. "No way!"

"I'm serious."

"No, really? Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Dumbledore. Have you not noticed his flamboyant purple robes and his predilection for showiness and ostentation? The man is as camp as a row of tents!"

"Oh my God, Luca, you're right. I can't believe I'd never noticed it before!" Penelope turned the information around in her mind. "Wow. Dumbledore's gay... And, wait a minute, you're saying that Snape spends a lot of time with him..."

Luca smirked.

"Oh, that's just..." Penelope's face screwed up. "Eww!"

The pair erupted into fits of laughter, and Luca was pleased to note that Penelope had all-but forgotten her break-up with Percy.

Georgina arrived, carrying three hot foaming tankards of Butterbeer. "This is the best I could do," she said, handing over the drinks and sitting down on the other side of Penelope. "Did you see Alicia leave the Great Hall just then, with Brent Armstrong on her arm?"

"No," Penelope said, curious. "I must've been distracted by Luca's unique sense of humour."

"Oh, no, what've I missed? Luca's not told you that one about the troll, the hag and the leprechaun? The one that Dumbledore started telling at the start of term?"

"No," Penelope said, taking a sip of warming Butterbeer. "Luca was telling me why he thinks Snape might be gay."

Georgina smiled knowingly. "I've heard those theories a few times."

"Can you believe Penelope didn't know Dumbledore was gay?" Luca asked.

"You're kidding!"

Penelope blushed. "I'd just never really thought about it. But now that Luca's said it, I can see it clearly. However, there's no way that..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

"What?" Georgina asked.

"I insinuated that Dumbledore and Snape were having it off," Luca said, smirking with self-satisfaction.

Georgina snorted inelegantly, seeing the remnants of hilarity in Penelope and Luca's eyes. "Always the comedian," she said with a hint of affection.

"Sssssh!" Penelope gestured towards the door of the Great Hall.

Professor Snape was leaving the room with the Durmstrang headmaster. His glittering black eyes cast over the three students sitting on the Marble Staircase, but before he could make comment, Igor Karkaroff leaned in and distracted him with a question. Snape stalked out of the Entrance Hall with Karkaroff at his heels, only stopping to reprimand a canoodling couple as he passed through the antechamber to the courtyard outside.

Penelope watched the shamefaced couple shuffling back into the Great Hall, and she heard the Weird Sisters begin the thumping bassline of 'Do the Hippogriff'.

Luca, however, was staring at the closed door of the antechamber. "I'd never really noticed that before..." he pondered out loud.

"What's that?" Georgina asked, sipping her Butterbeer.

"Snape and Karkaroff."

"Oh, come off it, Luca, you're obsessed!"

"Aren't we all?" Luca laughed, and Georgina grinned.

"Come on, you two," Penelope said, standing up and taking a few steps down the stairs. "Let's go and have a dance!"

Relieved that Penelope seemed to have cheered up, Georgina and Luca followed her into the Great Hall, leaving their tankards on the nearest table, and shouting "Ma ma ma, ma ma ma, ma ma ma!" into the gyrating crowd.

Brent Armstrong led Alicia by the hand as they escaped the stifling hot air of the Great Hall. They passed the Entrance Hall and stepped through the antechamber, where a Durmstrang boy and a fifth-year girl were lurking in the shadows, kissing. Alicia let out a giggle as she stepped out into the cold winter air, then her bare arms chilled instantly as snowflakes caressed her skin and melted to trickles of water.

Her date raised his wand and Transfigured her silky stole into a large, woollen pashmina. Alicia thanked him for his thoughtfulness and followed him into the snowy courtyard. The carriages which had brought the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students to the Yule Ball were lined up in rows, looking pretty with their snow-capped roofs, and Brent sneaked a peek inside one of the coaches, checking if it were occupied.

With a flourish, he opened the carriage door. "Shall we?"

Alicia gasped, looking around her shoulder for witnesses. "Are you sure?" she asked worriedly.

"Of course. You said you wanted to get some fresh air, and I've been dying to talk to you properly all night. This way we can do both, without freezing to death."

"What if we get caught?" Alicia asked, assessing the gorgeous young man in front of her and wondering why she was acting like such a prude. Half of Ravenclaw would give their wand arm to be alone in a hansom cab with this boy, yet here she was feeling nervous at his sudden gesture.

"We won't," Brent answered assuredly. "Come on, Alicia, you're shivering! Get in; it'll be warmer inside the cabin."

Alicia gritted her teeth, gulped, and then smiled timidly. "Okay."

She lifted the front of her ruby-red robes and climbed into the cab, sitting down on the comfy padded seat and rearranging her dress to cover up her legs. Brent hopped onto the seat next to her and closed the carriage door. Within moments he'd conjured an oil-lamp out of thin air, lighting it with a Lumos Charm. Alicia was very impressed by his magical ability; he seemed so confident... so practised.

Brent ran his fingers through his tousled mousy-brown hair then searched underneath his cloak for a small hip-flask, much like the one Professor Moody carried around. He opened the bottle and took a swig, then offered the drink to Alicia.

"Try it," he suggested. "It's Firewhisky."

"I've never liked the sound of Firewhisky," Alicia remarked, taking the flask from him and sniffing its contents warily.

"It'll warm you up in no time," Brent said, his eyes glittering.

Alicia took a small sip. As soon as the liquid hit the back of her throat, she began to cough uncontrollably, and she felt very foolish.

"There, there," Brent said, rubbing her back with the palm of his hand. "A bit much for you?"

Alicia nodded with embarrassment.

"No problem." Brent tucked the hip-flask back in his robes and took out a smaller crystal flagon. "You might like this one. Tastes like peaches and lemonade. It's my mum's favourite drink."

She accepted the small bottle from him and toyed with the crystal stopper, suddenly feeling out of her depth. Brent's arm had wound its way around her shoulders, and his breath was warm and heavy on her cheek.

"What do you think of the Weird Sisters?" she asked, hoping to divert his amorous attention.

"They're good," Brent answered, his voice barely a whisper.

His lips appeared to have moved closer, and his nose tickled her hair; Alicia's heartbeat thrummed rapidly, and her breath seemed to have stalled in her chest. She realised that Brent hadn't wanted conversation after all, and now she was alone with him, she felt nervous, inexperienced and ever-so-slightly at his mercy. Glancing down at the crystal flagon in her hands, she unstopped the cork and sniffed the liquid, distrustful of its origin. She almost laughed with relief when the strong aroma of peach schnapps assailed her nostrils. Brent appeared nothing but chivalrous and considerate of his date; he seemed the perfect gentleman.

Alicia lifted the bottle towards her lips and took a small mouthful of the liquid. The strong taste of peaches mingled with the fizz of lemonade, and she could feel the warming effects of the alcohol in her mouth. Pausing to swallow, she hoped the drink would relax her enough to allow Brent to kiss her...

However, seconds later she found herself choking on the liquid – with a burst of light the carriage door had flung open, and she was staring into the triumphant features of her Potions master. She gulped down the peach schnapps as quickly as she could, trying to appear demure whilst at the same time coughing from the burning sensation in her throat.

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Armstrong!" Snape pronounced.

Brent jumped from the carriage like a rabbit scampering away from a farmer's gun, leaving Alicia behind, gagging and retching from her misappropriated drink.

"And what do we have here, Miss Spinnet?" said Snape, revelling in her discomposure.

"Ss-sorry, s-sir," Alicia stuttered, embarrassed.

Snape assessed her for a moment, and Alicia took the opportunity to gaze into his bottomless black eyes, noticing an ounce of concern appear within. She became vaguely aware that she was starting to swoon, as though the courtyard had tilted on its axis and the carriage had begun to slip inexorably towards the wall. Yet her professor had remained upright... Perhaps she was the one who was tilting...?

"Miss Spinnet, can you stand?" asked Snape, offering his hand to help her step out from the cab.

After noticing the dusky timbre of his voice, and the pale fingers poking out from his long shirt sleeves, she mumbled, "I'm not sure, sir." The professor was holding out his hand for her to take... This was as though all her dreams had come true... And here she was, delaying contact!

With a deep breath of Gryffindor resolve, she placed her hand in his, noticing the coldness of his fingers as they wrapped tightly around her own, and she climbed out of the hansom cab and onto the snowy ground, trying her best to appear poised and – what was the word Angelina had used? – sultry. Unfortunately disaster struck as her second foot made contact with the floor, and her knees buckled, as though her joints had turned to rubber.

Snape caught Alicia adeptly before she hit the floor, and with one heaving growl he swept her up in his arms. Her head thudded against his body, and she could feel the heat radiating from him, as if he were protecting her. The thought was enough to make her dizzy. Her head lolled backwards for a moment, and she caught sight of the Durmstrang headmaster a couple of paces behind, looking very annoyed.

"Make yourself useful, Igor," Snape addressed Karkaroff. "Search that carriage and bring anything you find to the Hospital Wing. I'll meet you there."

Karkaroff grunted his compliance, and Snape began to walk briskly towards the antechamber. Alicia noticed the snogging couple had already been displaced from their alcove, and the Entrance Hall was deserted. The Weird Sisters' song 'Do the Hippogriff' was pulsating from the open door to the Great Hall, but Snape carried Alicia away from the crowd towards the Hospital Wing, kicking open the double doors to an otherwise empty ward. Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen, and the lights were dim.

Snape placed Alicia on the nearest hospital bed and disentangled himself from her arms to extract his wand and utter the word "Lumos! "

Alicia squeaked her alarm when the lights changed to full intensity, and her Professor left her side to cast a spell on the Matron's on-call bell.

"Sir!" she cried, overwhelmed by a feeling of utter rejection now that he had left her bedside.

Snape turned on his heel and paced back to her bed, placing his hand on her forehead to gauge her temperature. Calmed by his touch, Alicia sat up again so she could lean into his chest – the only place she felt safe. She heard him curse under his breath, looking fretfully around the ward for help of any kind.

"What is it, Severus?" Madam Pomfrey called, running through the double doors in her dress-robes. She quickly assessed the sixth-year girl sitting on the bed, unwilling to let go of the Potions master.

"I found her in a carriage with Armstrong, but she collapsed as soon as she stood up. I can smell alcohol on her breath."

"She doesn't look drunk," Madam Pomfrey remarked wryly.

"Indeed," Snape replied with heavy sarcasm.

At that moment, Karkaroff reappeared with Alicia's pashmina and a small crystal bottle in his grasp. He handed the liquid to Snape without delay. Alicia watched her professor unstop the cork and hover his hooked nose over the neck of the bottle.

"It's peach schnapps, Professor," Alicia said, hoping to be excused for her illicit alcoholic drink.

"It's more than that, Miss Spinnet," replied Snape brusquely.

He tried to move away from the hospital bed, but Alicia squealed her protest and grabbed the buttoned seam of his frockcoat and yanked him back. Her arms clung around his waist possessively, and she nestled in the crook of his arm once more.

Karkaroff snorted under his breath.

"Severus, allow me," offered Madam Pomfrey.

She took the crystal flagon to her workstation and cast diagnostic spells upon the liquid. All the while, Snape kept his hands clasped around his back, determined not to touch the girl and encourage her further.

After what seemed like an eternity to Snape, Madam Pomfrey gave her verdict. "Two different variants of Love Potion mixed with peach schnapps and a twist of lemon. Armstrong did a good job of disguising the Amortentia."

"But failed to understand the consequences of mixing different Love Potions," Snape remarked to himself.

Karkaroff stepped into Snape's line of sight, his goatee partly hiding his smirk. "But his timing was impeccable; one more second and the girl would have imprinted on him. Instead she chose the ever-popular Potions master!"

"Shut up, Igor," Snape hissed.

The Matron ignored them and shuffled over to her potions cabinet to retrieve a bottle of antidote.

"Please don't go anywhere, Professor Snape," Alicia whispered dreamily. "I feel safe with you."

Karkaroff couldn't contain himself and let out a mocking peal of laughter. Snape tried not to squirm in the young girl's embrace and craned his head to check on Madam Pomfrey's progress. When the nurse offered her patient the antidote, Alicia was reticent and had to be coaxed.

"Now is a ridiculous time to become suspicious about accepting a drink," Snape observed sardonically, hoping to shame her into taking the treatment.

Unfortunately for Snape, Alicia didn't have the mental faculties to understand his meaning. All she knew was that she didn't want to let go of her Potions master, and she strongly suspected the Matron was trying to steal him from her.

Snape snatched the bottle impatiently and held it in front of Alicia. "Take this!" he ordered.

Alicia looked up at him, her eyes wide and her hands trembling. "Why?" she asked.

"Take this," Snape repeated, this time more softly. "Take it... for me."

She would do anything he asked of her, so she gulped down the contents of the bottle immediately.

Very quickly her countenance changed, and Alicia was hit hard by a terrible feeling of desolation, as though her stomach had been sucked out through her belly-button. She realised her arm remained wrapped around Professor Snape, and as the gravity of the situation slowly dawned upon her, she removed the offending appendage with great care.

"Professor Snape," she said quietly, "I'm so sorry!"

"Apologies are not necessary, Miss Spinnet; you were under the influence of Love Potion. Let this serve as a lesson to you. Never accept a drink of unknown origin. Pretty young women like you must be on their guard around hormonal teenage boys."

Snape stepped away from the hospital bed with an air of relief and walked out of the ward with Karkaroff at his side.

"Are you not going to deduct points from the girl's House, Severus?" the Durmstrang headmaster enquired on their way out.

"No. That young lady has been through enough for one evening."

Alicia watched the two men exit the room and then lay back into her pillow. Three words swirled around in her mind like pirouetting ballerinas, making her giddy with excitement.

Snape had called her a 'pretty young woman'.

And he had protected her from harm.

She glanced at the Charmed bracelet on her arm, eager to relate her experience to the three other champions.

---

Authors' Note:

Where we have quoted dialogue from the original Harry Potter books, we have marked it with an asterisk.

This chapter was written by WhiteGray and Agnus Castus.

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