12- Consequences and Costumes

Chapter 12- Consequences and Costumes

Snape was in a legendary foul mood Friday. More than one student felt as if an entire weekend were necessary to recover from Potions that day. One particularly irreverent Ravenclaw made so bold at lunch as to say that it was as if the class were being taught by a werewolf, since Snape snarled and growled more than he spoke. Snape avoided the Great Hall both morning and midday, so he wouldn't have to see Potter and Granger together. He really felt as if he couldn't be held responsible for his actions if he did see them.

Thus, it wasn't until dinner that evening that he saw the uncomfortable distance and awkward tension between said couple. Despite himself, he was interested in what had happened between the pair. Deep within, he crowed in malicious delight at the obvious breach. Watching them through his shielding curtain of hair, he had to consciously keep the smug smirk from creeping onto his face.

Hermione, too distracted by the strain of being around Harry, barely had time or attention left to register Snape's absence earlier and his scrutiny at dinner. It had been a rough day.

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That morning, she had emerged into the common room to find Harry and Ron waiting for her. Ron gave her a wan half-smile, indicating that he had heard the whole story from Harry the night before. Harry, confident that a night's sleep would clear things up, blithely approached Hermione, smiling, and reached to take her hand. His smile froze when she moved her hand out of his reach. She glanced at Ron, who had closed his eyes and grimaced, shaking his head at Harry's folly. When she looked back at Harry, he was staring at her, uneasy.

"Hermione?" he asked, placing a wealth of meaning in that one word.

Hermione sighed, dreading what was to come, but resignedly answered, "Harry, I meant what I said last night. Give it a rest."

Harry's eyes glittered and his jaw clenched. He stiffly shoved his hands in his pockets. Hurt and angry, he ground out, "So, that's it? We don't even get to talk about it? That's not fair, Hermione." He glared at her, eyes narrowed.

Hermione, hating herself for hurting her best friend, gave in a little. "Look, we'll talk about it later. This weekend, after classes are over. We both need to keep our minds on our schoolwork today, so we'll just put it on hold until later."

Harry took a deep breath, slightly mollified. At least he didn't look ready to hit something anymore. Slowly, he took his hands out of his pockets. "All right then. Later." He shot an angry glance over his shoulder at Ron and barked, "Let's go, Ron."

Ron cringed and looked sadly at Hermione. Harry brushed past her roughly and Ron followed, more slowly. Once Harry had climbed through the portrait hole, Ron gave Hermione a quick, apologetic squeeze on the arm and muttered, "I understand, Hermione. Really, I do. He's just got to work it out. Come on with us to breakfast. Avoiding him won't make him deal with it any faster."

Hermione gave Ron a grateful, watery smile and nodded. "I'm coming. I'll just be a few steps behind you. Go on. It's okay." Ron squeezed her arm again and turned to leave. "And Ron..." He stopped near the portrait hole and looked back inquiringly. "Thanks." At this, he broke into a genuine smile and nodded at her, and then he scrambled through the hole. Hermione sighed again.

Alone, she trudged down to the Great Hall. On her way, she stopped at the notice board. Just as Dumbledore had said, the schedule was up.

"Costume Fitting Roster:

- A. Dumbledore, Director"

Chewing her lip in a bemused fashion, Hermione was surprised by a cheerful "Morning, 'Mione" behind her. She turned to see Ginny smiling at her. Ginny glanced around and looked at Hermione, puzzled.

"Where's Harry?"

Hermione shrank in on herself and her smile faded. Instantly, Ginny stepped closer, dropping her voice confidentially.

"What happened?"

Hermione looked into the other girl's concerned eyes and said, "I told him we needed to put things on hold for a bit. He's pretty upset. He and Ron are already at breakfast."

Eyes widening in dismay, Ginny breathed, "Why? I thought things were going well!"

Hermione took a deep breath and said gloomily, "They were. Very well. So well that Snape caught us snogging in the corridor and all hell broke loose." She raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement of Ginny's horrified gasp. "He doused us with ice water and threw Harry across into the far wall! I though he was going to hex us into oblivion! It was awful, Ginny..." She shuddered at the memory.

"Then, he took 50 points each and told Harry to leave while he still could! I mean, that's a serious threat from the likes of Snape!" Ginny nodded vigorously, completely absorbed by Hermione's tale. "And, after Harry left, he gave me detention Monday night. So, when I went upstairs, Harry was waiting for me and I just got angry and told him to cool it." Her shoulders sagged again under the stress of everything that had transpired.

Ginny made soothing noises and slipped one arm around her friend's shoulders, hugging her. "It's okay. It'll all work out. Wow. Detention? But why not give Harry detention too?" She started slowly leading Hermione into the Great Hall.

"I don't know. Harry said the same thing. I guess it's because I'm Head Girl. Snape did say he expected me to have better sense." It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Ginny about Snape's other cryptic comments, but she stopped herself, not wanting to give her naturally inquisitive and far too clever friend an opening through which she could pry into Hermione's dangerous thoughts about her Potions professor. They made their way to the Gryffindor table. Ron and Ginny exchanged looks before Ginny sat down across from Ron and Harry, pulling Hermione down beside her.

Harry stiffly looked away from them and stared at his plate. Hermione exchanged looks with Ginny and Ron, the former nodding sympathetically and supportively at her, patting her hand under the table, and the latter shrugging faintly and smiling weakly at her. Hermione set her teeth and stoically filled her plate. Ginny and Ron bravely tried to keep up conversation while they ate.

Suddenly, Harry flung his fork down on the table and stood. Hermione started at the clatter and sat up straight. Ron and Ginny broke off their conversation and stared warily up at Harry.

Blushing hotly, Harry grabbed his bag and muttered to no one in particular, "I'm going to, um, go do some reading for class. See you later, Ron, Ginny... Hermione." He pinned her with a steely gaze before he turned abruptly and strode off.

Ron let out an audible sigh and turned to Hermione with a mournful expression. "Harry told me what happened, 'Mione. Oi, but I can't believe you got detention. That's ruddy awful, mate. And I saw Harry when he came into the common room! He was soaked! Snape actually did that to you two? What a bloody great prat!" He scowled in indignation.

Perversely, Hermione found herself defending Snape. "Well, we were snogging in the corridor." She faltered and flushed, shooting a sheepish glance at Ginny. "And, well, we were doing a bit more than just that. We weren't exactly following school rules, you know," she added, primly.

Ron wrinkled his nose at her, shaking his head. "Oh, give over, 'Mione. That was completely uncalled for." He lifted his chin haughtily and Hermione choked back a giggle. He sounded just like McGonagall! Hiding her grin behind her glass of pumpkin juice, she took a long swallow and placed it decidedly back on the table.

"I'm done too. I'll see you lot later. Harry and I will talk tomorrow. I'm sure we can work something out. Thanks for being there for me." She stood and reached across the table to squeeze Ron's hand and patted Ginny on the shoulder before she whirled and headed for her Advanced Arithmancy class.

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Hermione ended up making a mad dash into the Great Hall for lunch that day, eager to eat and leave, so she wouldn't have to suffer Harry's attitude any more than she already had. He had been positively irritating in their Advanced Transfiguration class. Ron kept giving her apologetic looks all through the lesson, and she felt as if she would scream aloud if she had to sit through another nosy prying stare from any other student. So, as soon as class was over, she raced out and down to lunch, ahead of everyone else. She was halfway through her meal by the time Ron and Harry showed up. They sat silently and began eating.

The silence between them was uncomfortable indeed. After a few minutes, Harry suddenly cleared his throat and spoke up. "Hermione, listen. I know you said we would talk tomorrow, but I think that's waiting too long. I mean, how miserable is this? Do you really want to feel like this?" He turned wistful eyes on her and leant toward her earnestly.

Hermione fought to swallow through her suddenly tight throat. Coughing a bit, she blinked rapidly, trying to choose her words carefully. She returned Harry's gaze evenly and said, "I know no one wants to feel like this, but I also know that you're not going to let our discussion be brief. To give our conversation the proper attention it's due, we need to have enough uninterrupted time for it. We don't have that today. Nor will we tonight, not with costume fittings. And, I would rather we don't stay up far too late and lose more sleep. I promise, Harry, we'll talk tomorrow. And I'll give you my undivided attention, okay?" Her brow furrowed and she leant toward Harry. He scowled and sat back from the table, crossing his arms in front of him. An errant wisp of thought wafted through Hermione's consciousness. My, doesn't he look like Snape just now!

Disconcerted by her thought and Harry's juvenile silent treatment, she stood hastily and gathered her things. Casting a quick disappointed look at Harry and a wan smile at Ron, she muttered, "See you later then, Ron, Harry." She avoided the curious stares from other students as she hurried from the Great Hall. She spent the rest of lunch in the library...for a change.

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So, there they all were at dinner, the cast members waiting for their time slots. Hermione was answering questions from Lavender and Parvati about the types of costumes in the play, and Snape was watching her covertly from the High Table.

Eventually, only the cast members were left in the Great Hall, and Dumbledore called the first group over to him.

Many of the people on cast stood in small clumps far enough away from the group getting fitted so as not to disturb them. Draco took Pansy by the hand and dragged her away from the Hall, snidely commenting on wasting his time standing about with the others. Hermione was standing with Ginny and the other Gryffindor girls, chatting about the ballet costumes. Harry glared at them darkly and turned to Ron and Neville.

"C'mon mates, you don't have to be here till 8:30, and I'm after you, so why waste our time waiting here? Let's go play some Exploding Snap or something."

The other boys nodded quickly, hoping to appease their friend, and perhaps put him in a better mood. Harry turned sharply and marched out of the Hall, Ron and Neville trailing behind him.

Snape, who had slunk into the shadows, planning to wait just long enough to see what Dumbledore was going to do with the costumes, saw the angry boy stomping out of the Hall. He smiled to himself. His eyes sought out Hermione, among the other girls.

After a few seconds, she started to frown, shaking her head slightly, her eyes darting around the Hall. When she realized Harry was gone, her shoulders dropped in a visible sigh of relief. She went back to her conversation, but quickly started twitching again.

Snape saw her looking around, perplexed. Finally, her swivelling head narrowed its scope to focus in his direction. He was concealed in the shadows, but she was looking straight at him. Her eyes narrowed, searching, and then relaxed again. She shook her head faintly, looking down. With one last keen glance toward him, she grimaced and turned back to her friends.

Snape realized he was breathing shallowly and consciously took a deep breath. She hadn't actually seen him, but she knew he was there! Or, she knew something was there, even if she couldn't figure it out. He thought about their apparent connection, wondering. An odd tingle rippled over him. No one had ever sensed his presence like that before. Thank Merlin, or his days as a spy would have been over long ago. Unsettled by this development, he took the opportunity, while her back was to him, to slip out of the Hall unnoticed. He had a couple of hours before he was scheduled; surely he had something he could do with his time besides staring at schoolgirls!

When he was back in his dungeon, he found himself unable to concentrate on grading, so he reverted to practicing his part, forging ahead to Act Two. He forwarded through the parts he wasn't in and replayed each section of his part several times until he could perform it from memory. He had worked his way through to the scene in the graveyard.

Repeating his lines in which he lures Christine and taunts Raoul, he took morbid pleasure in fantasizing about actually acting out a similar scene with Potter. I wonder how Dumbledore will stage this scene. I would so love to singe the conceited expression right off that boy's face...

Continuing in his practice, he eventually came to "Point of No Return." He paused uneasily, remembering all of the inappropriate feelings that had come along with doing this part. Thinning his lips in determination, he doggedly practiced, verse by verse, painstakingly memorizing the song. By the time he had reached the end of the song, at the point where the Phantom begins singing "All I Ask of You" to Christine, Snape was thoroughly uncomfortable.

His rebellious body responded as it had before, no matter how much he tried to will it otherwise. He finally gave up practicing, realizing it was futile, and he needed some time to... calm down before he had to return to the Great Hall. He checked the time and saw that he had about half an hour before he was needed upstairs. Frustrated with his lack of control, he forced himself to go check the potency of his potion ingredients by smell. If anything could dampen inopportune ardour, it was the odour of some of his ingredients.

After several whiffs of particularly pungent materials, his eyes were watering, he was fighting a sneeze, and his erection had finally flagged. Grateful for the relief, he locked everything away again and went back to his desk. However, when he got there, he hesitated. There was nothing he could concentrate on here, not unless he wanted to take the chance of being aroused again. Exasperated, he made his decision and swept out of the dungeon, back up to the Great Hall. He would be early, but he could always wait outside or in the ever-present shadows until it was his time.

As he mounted the stairs to the corridor, he heard Weasley and Longbottom nattering on as they made their way to the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower. Snape grimaced and paused, loath to encounter them and their vacant expressions. As they climbed the stairs out of his range of vision, he crisply strode on, down the corridor to the Hall. He stopped at the door, just outside it, and stealthily peeked around the jamb.

Hermione was sitting with her back against the wall by the doorway, as far away from Dumbledore and Harry as possible. The rest of the students were gone. Snape instantly pulled back, barely keeping her in his line of sight. She was sitting with her arms around her bent knees, fingers interlaced. Her head was leaning back, tilting her chin up, baring her throat. She looked sad and pensive.

Snape frowned blackly. She must be pining for that Potter dolt. They must have had a lovers' quarrel and they just haven't made up yet, he thought bitterly. He glanced back in and saw Dumbledore waving Harry away.

Harry strode across the Hall toward the door, glaring at Hermione the whole way. Snape heard her sigh wearily. The last thing Snape wanted to see was her grovelling for his affection, so he spun furiously and secreted himself within the shadows of the opposite wall, across the corridor from the doorway.

Hmph. They're not the only ones who can use these shadows to their advantage...

Hermione stood as Harry got closer. Harry looked sullen. Hermione knew he would sulk until they got to have their talk. When he got close to her, he stopped and said sharply, "Dumbledore is ready for you now."

Snape heard the harsh tone and wanted to punish him for discourtesy, but he stayed secluded. Hermione's voice was gentle as she said, "Thank you. You looked quite the hero in your costume, Harry."

Hero? Of course, Potter-the-bloody-hero! Silly girl, mooning over a jumped up boy...

Harry's voice was coaxing as he said, "Hermione, please reconsider. Let's talk about it tonight. I'll meet you at your room and we can discuss things. What do you say, huh?"

Snape squinted in confusion. What was the boy saying?

"Harry, I said we'll talk tomorrow. Don't push it." Her tone showed her aggravation and held a clear warning. A warning that Harry didn't heed.

Snape pressed himself more securely against the wall as Harry came around the door frame, pulling Hermione with him. She yanked her hand from his grip and glared at him. Harry ignored it and stepped closer to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, murmuring to her, "Hermione, I'm sorry we got in trouble. It won't happen again. We'll just be more careful. C'mon, why don't we talk about it in your room tonight? I miss you already. I miss this..." He pulled her to him and kissed her.

Snape was about to come roaring out of his hiding place, but he was stopped by the vision of Hermione forcefully pushing Harry off her, her face absolutely livid. Snape hardly dared breathe, he was so shocked.

Hermione swatted Harry's hands away from her. In a harsh, furious whisper, she said, "Harry James Potter, that is the last straw! You just don't listen, do you? I told you we needed to put things on hold. You say you care about me, but you won't even listen to me when I'm not comfortable with what's going on! I'm the one who got in more trouble. I'm Head Girl! That's important to me! You're so childish! You can't even be civil to me, just because you didn't get what you want!" Her hands were balled into fists on her hips, red spots burned on her cheeks, and her eyes were snapping with anger. Harry just stared at her, dumbfounded.

Snape didn't dare blink; he didn't want to miss one precious second of this beautiful sight!

"And now, when I have another responsibility, and after I already told you we'd talk about things later, you drag me out here and waste the time I'm supposed to spend with Dumbledore! You don't even care about getting me in more trouble! I can't believe how arrogant you are sometimes, Harry. Not everything is always about you!!" She stamped her foot and whirled, charging back into the Great Hall. Harry blinked in amazement.

Snape clapped a hand over his mouth to hold in the laughter that threatened. Harry's cheeks reddened and his eyes narrowed. He scowled and ground his teeth. Stepping quickly to look at Hermione in the Hall, he exhaled explosively. Huffing angrily, he turned and stomped down the corridor and up the stairs.

Snape watched him go, revelling in the boy's humiliation. Smirking, he slipped from the shadows to the doorway.

Hermione was hurrying across the Hall to Dumbledore, who was gazing at her over his spectacles with a grave expression. Swiftly, Snape followed silently behind her. Dumbledore said in a reproachful tone, "Miss Granger, you have been here all evening, and yet when it comes to your time, you disappear. Now, you are late. I must say, I am disappointed. I thought you, of all people, would take this responsibility seriously."

Hermione looked properly contrite and began, "Headmaster, I apologize. I..."

She was smoothly interrupted by a silky voice behind her. "Headmaster, I must apologize. I detained Miss Granger. It is not her fault that she is tardy. Rest assured that she most certainly does take this responsibility seriously."

Hermione whirled, looking up at Snape with wide, incredulous eyes. Had he just lied to the headmaster for her? Snape quirked an eyebrow and looked down his nose at her. His lips twitched in an effort to contain his amusement at the scene he had witnessed. Hermione was speechless, completely shocked at his words, and disconcerted by the sparkle in his eyes. Was that a glint of humour? He looked positively mischievous! Blinking rapidly, Hermione turned back to Dumbledore.

"Very well then, Severus. You are the only one after Miss Granger, so you have only yourself to thank for being behind schedule. Miss Granger, stand by me, please."

Hermione flicked one last stunned glance at Snape and moved by Dumbledore. Snape inclined his head toward her and glided off to the side, coming to rest against the wall, half in shadow. Hermione followed his progress in her peripheral vision and noted that his face was hidden in the dark, but that his long legs were visible, lounging against the wall. Her attention was diverted by Dumbledore speaking.

"Now, Miss Granger, you have several costumes in this play. The first is your costume as a chorus girl in the 'Hannibal' scene. Then, you change into the costume that Carlotta wore in the 'Hannibal' scene as you sing her role. Your third costume is what you change into in your dressing room when Raoul visits. Your next costume is as the page boy in the 'Il Muto' scene. You will don a cloak to leave for 'All I Ask of You,' and then you will once again wear Carlotta's costume, this time from 'Il Muto.' You must of course have a costume for 'Masquerade.' Then you have another for the second 'Notes' scene. After that, you have one for the rehearsal for 'Don Juan,' after which you will don the cloak again to wear for 'Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again.' And your final costume is the one you wear for 'Don Juan,' which will take you to the end of the play."

Dumbledore looked up from his notes. He chuckled at her bewildered expression. "Relax, Miss Granger, we will transfigure most of what is needed. One of the many benefits of magic is the ease in which your costume can change. The only thing that will be separate will be the cloak you wear over your costumes. So, as you are wearing your standard wizard robe, I will show you what each of your costumes will look like, and later, we will transfigure an extra cloak for you. Are you ready, Miss Granger?" He smiled, somewhat amused at her expression.

"I think so, sir. I just stand here?"

"Exactly. Now, here we go." He pointed his wand at her and pronounced a spell that was apparently specific for her and her first costume. He made sure his notes were in order as he went through each spell following that one.

Hermione found herself smiling at the ingenious way in which the multiple costume changes would be handled. Each actor had a separate spell, created specifically for each costume needed, that would transfigure the original robe into whatever was required. Hermione mused that McGonagall must have helped Dumbledore with the lengthy amount of spells needed to clothe the whole cast. Transfiguration was her area of expertise, after all.

After each new costume was transfigured, Dumbledore had Hermione walk and move about, to make sure it fit correctly and was comfortable. Hermione felt like a child playing dress-up and was enjoying herself immensely.

Snape watched from his post, noting Hermione's surprise at how Dumbledore handled everything. Indeed, Snape was rather impressed by the methodical way everything was achieved. If Hermione had so many costumes, he couldn't help but wonder how many the whole cast had. He realized that he would have far fewer costume changes, but he was frankly relieved at that notion.

He felt himself growing aroused, watching Hermione parading in each new, sumptuous, beautiful costume. The corseted bodices of her gowns showed off her figure and highlighted her breasts. He felt his mind wandering to which costume she would be wearing in the scenes with him. Musing on his seductive "Music of the Night," he imagined circling her, mesmerizing her. Then, when they got to the last costume, the one she would wear during "Point of No Return," he felt himself growing hot at the thought of actively seducing her, being able to touch her and hold her.

He looked at her face, feeling a smile force its way to his lips at her candid delight, evinced by the sparkle in her eyes and her enchanted smile. A rush of warmth flowed over him, and he felt a throb in both his chest and in his groin. At that, he came crashing back to reality. His smile vanished, to be replaced by a pained scowl. He sucked in a breath, tearing his gaze away from her, hoping his once-again-present erection would go away quickly. It was almost his turn, now that Dumbledore had gone through all of her costumes. Desperately, he thought of Dumbledore in one of the corseted concoctions Hermione had just been wearing, and his erection flagged in response to that mental image.

Rolling his eyes and shaking himself to drive that image from his mind, he took a deep breath to compose himself, smoothing his robes and resettling them on his lean frame. It was none too soon, for Dumbledore had finished talking to Hermione and turned in Snape's direction.

"Severus, it's your turn."

Snape schooled his expression into one of polite attention and strode toward the older man. Hermione averted her gaze from her tall Potions Master, hoping he wouldn't make her leave. She had seen all of the other costumes so far, and she wanted to see his too.

Dumbledore picked up his notes and recited, "Severus, your first costume is for the 'Magic Mirror' scene, which continues into the 'Music of the Night.' You will also wear a hat and a cape over your costume. Just as with Miss Granger's, we'll have to make those separately. I suppose your costume would be the same for the later scene 'All I Ask of You.' Of course, your costume for 'Masquerade' will be quite different. I think that you'll wear the same costume throughout, unless it changes for you playing another role. Therefore, your costume will stay the same for the graveyard scene, but you'll add the cape again. For 'The Point of No Return,' you'll wear the cowled cloak that Piangi wore before you take over. That will take you through to the end of the play, but you'll need your cloak for the final moment on the throne as well. You don't have anywhere near as many changes as Miss Granger does." He chuckled at Hermione's sheepish smile in response.

Snape glanced at Hermione, torn between wanting her gone and wanting her there. Dumbledore saw Snape's frown in her direction and chided, "Oh, Severus, come now. Miss Granger has been so interested in seeing all of the costumes, surely you don't begrudge her the opportunity to stay and see the last few."

Snape flicked a glance at Dumbledore and eyed Hermione again. He could see the hopeful gleam in her eyes. "As you say, Headmaster." Hermione flashed him a bright, grateful smile before faltering, as if aghast at her temerity.

Blushing, she stammered, "Thank you, Professor Snape, Headmaster. I do so love the costumes. They're all so beautiful."

Dumbledore pointed at Snape with his wand and said the spell for his first costume. Snape felt odd without his voluminous robes. He looked down at himself, grateful that he was still in black, at least.

Hermione stifled a gasp. Her eyes widened in appreciation. Snape was clad in a dapper tuxedo. The snow white shirt was topped with a white bow tie, and the coat fit him perfectly, buttoned closed above trim black trousers that outlined his long legs. Hermione felt a tingle in her stomach at how dashing he looked.

"Now, please walk a bit, to make sure it fits properly."

Snape turned slowly and glided a few steps before spinning on his heel and returning. His face was inscrutable. Hermione couldn't help but think he looked like grace personified.

Dumbledore was satisfied with the fit and moved on to the next costume. The Red Death costume was stunning, even though it lacked the mask, hat, and cape. Snape felt his cheeks growing hot at the spectacle of himself completely decked out in red. Red! Of all colours! It was so... so... Gryffindor! He scowled.

Hermione could see how uncomfortable he was and swallowed her smile. She didn't want to make him feel worse. He stiffly stepped away and back, expression black. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling as he said the next spell. Hermione thought she heard a faint sigh of relief from Snape as the cowled cloak covered him, over a simple shirt and trousers. It had a hood, and Dumbledore had him raise it before he walked off.

Snape felt better immediately, concealed in the shadow of the hood. He did the expected walk and return. When he looked at Hermione, secure in the fact that she couldn't see his eyes, he noticed how her eyes shone. She had a rapt expression as she gazed after him, but as he walked back to them, her brow furrowed slightly and she looked thoughtful.

Once Dumbledore was satisfied, he transfigured the costume back into Snape's original robes. He cast a calculating eye on Snape and pursed his lips. "We'll have to find more than one thing to transfigure for the rest of your costume. We need your mask and a cape, as well as a hat. And, we'll have to cast a glamour on you for the Phantom's scarred face." Dumbledore paused a moment and then continued with a suppressed chuckle, "Now, Severus, try not to use the glamour to scare students more when you do your night patrols, eh?"

Snape grimaced at Dumbledore and rolled his eyes. Suddenly, Hermione started from her reverie.

"Sirs! Professor Snape, I just remembered! What about your Death Eater mask and cloak? Can't you use them for the transfiguration?" She spoke quickly, excited by the idea.

She was not prepared for the violent snap of their heads toward her, pinning her with equally intense probing gazes. She backed away instinctively, hastily stammering, "I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean..."

Dumbledore recovered almost immediately and grasped her arm in reassurance. "That's quite all right, Miss Granger. Don't fret. You just took me by surprise, that's all. Severus," he said, his voice steely, "she does have a good idea. Wouldn't it be fitting for us to use a relic of the Dark Lord's reign in our progress toward a brighter future, free from his tyranny?" He sent a piercing look at Snape, who finally tore his gaze from Hermione to glare back at him.

Snape saw the implacable glint in the old man's eye and knew he was expected to agree. Still reeling from the shock she had given him, he slowed his breathing and pulse and bit out, "As you say, Headmaster."

Dumbledore beamed at him. "Excellent. In that case, why don't you go retrieve them and we'll wait for you here."

Snape blinked at the older man, taken aback by the unexpected request. He shot a glare at Hermione, who was looking down, nervously chewing her lower lip. Dumbledore kept smiling at Snape, waiting for his capitulation. Snape finally clenched his teeth and nodded sharply. "Very well, Headmaster. If you'll excuse me..." He gave a frosty bow and spun on his heel to march out of the Hall. As his steps faded, Hermione let out the breath she had been holding in a long, quavering sigh.

Dumbledore turned to her kindly and said, "Miss Granger, do not worry about Professor Snape. You had a wonderful idea. You simply took us by surprise. It will certainly be helpful for the costumes, and it will be highly symbolic, all things considered. I think it's a marvellous idea, and Professor Snape will come around, you'll see." He patted her shoulder in a grandfatherly manner. Hermione gazed up at him gratefully and smiled hesitantly.

"Thank you, Headmaster. I am doing my best to get along with Professor Snape. I'm trying to be as professional as I can, like you said, and move past our differences to work well together. I want to win this competition, sir, for you and Hogwarts."

Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder in approval and twinkled at her. "Miss Granger, I have no doubt whatsoever that with you and Professor Snape in the lead roles, after what we witnessed last night, we will win the competition! You are simply marvellous, and I am so pleased to see Professor Snape rising to the occasion as well. We have a lot of work ahead of us still, but after such an auspicious beginning, I am looking forward to it!"

Hermione relaxed and grinned at Dumbledore's ringing tones of confidence. She felt much better for the pep talk.

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Snape grumbled to himself all the way down to his quarters. Busybody Know-It-All! "What about your Death Eater mask?" How would she know I still even had it? I could have burned it after the defeat of the Dark Lord. What on earth made her think of it and bring it up?

He remembered debating over what to do with his Death Eater garments. Part of him had wanted to burn them, to reduce them to ashes like Voldemort. That part had wanted to get rid of any reminder of his decades with the Dark Lord. Even his Dark Mark had faded into a pale white scar, rather than the black stamp on his forearm. He could ignore it so much easier now, as it was harder to see. He could have done any number of satisfying, cathartic things with his Death Eater items, all to commemorate his freedom.

But, when it had come down to it, he had decided against all of those options. He had carefully folded his cloak, smoothed his gloves across it, and laid the mask on top, locking them away in his wardrobe. He knew that they would serve as a reminder of everything he had experienced: his many mistakes, his attempts at redemption, his final release. They held too much of him and his past to just throw away.

He unlocked the wardrobe and removed his Death Eater garb. Memories washed over him. Grimly, he turned and carried them back up to the Great Hall.

Hermione sensed him as soon as he entered the Hall, and she turned to watch him. His expression was closed and his eyes were hard. Briefly, she wondered if it was such a good idea after all. She quailed inwardly at the wall that was suddenly around her enigmatic professor.

Snape strode over to Dumbledore, barely giving Hermione a glance, and offered him the neat bundle. Dumbledore smiled gently at Snape and took them from him. Pensively lifting the smooth white mask, he gave Snape an apologetic look. "Severus, I know you never thought to wear this again. Put it on one last time, and I will permanently transfigure it from an instrument of fear into one of hope. Then, you will never wear a Death Eater mask again."

A multitude of emotions was running rampant in his chest, making it feel tight. He looked at the mask, loath to touch it again. He was distracted by a faint sniff and glanced at Hermione to see her, eyes glistening with unshed tears, soberly sniffling, staring at the mask. Determined not to show any weakness in front of her, he steeled himself and resolutely placed the mask on his face. He closed his eyes, waiting for Dumbledore to cast the spell. Within seconds, the left half of the mask disappeared. He was covered from above his left eye, over his nose, and down along the right side of his mouth. He opened his eyes to see Dumbledore looking at him, the twinkle temporarily drowned out by tears of fierce pride.

Snape took a deep breath and removed the mask, gingerly handing it back to Dumbledore. He watched as Dumbledore shook out the long black cloak and handed it to him. Taking the cloak in nerveless fingers, he flung it about his shoulders and raised the hood, stonily looking at the floor while Dumbledore cast the spell to transfigure it into a less threatening cape, complete with a black brimmed hat. Snape scowled at the snug fit of the hat on his brow and felt it loosen slightly. Sharply looking at Dumbledore, he saw the man twinkling again.

"I wasn't sure if it would work or not, but I thought I'd try to get the hat out of it as well. I'm so pleased it worked. Now we have all of the pieces we need to transform for the Masquerade costume as well. Speaking of..."

He handed the mask back to Snape and waved his hand at him, indicating he should put it on. Snape reluctantly did so, and Dumbledore cast the spell for the Masquerade costume. Now Snape was completely clad in robes, cloak, mask, and hat of brilliant, unrelenting red. He groaned. Hermione clapped her hands in a little burst of excitement. Glaring at her through his Red Death's Head mask, Snape crossed his arms in a fit of pique.

"Excellent! It's marvellous, simply marvellous! Let me go back to your regular costume." Dumbledore eagerly cast more spells and Snape was once again accoutred in his elegant black tuxedo and half mask. He removed his cloak and hat and handed them to Dumbledore. With a long-suffering sigh, he lifted his hands and shrugged.

"Well?" he said, aggrieved. "Are you satisfied now?"

Dumbledore hummed in thought as he scrutinized Snape, and Hermione cleared her throat timidly. Both men turned to look at her, Dumbledore curious, and Snape annoyed.

"Yes, Miss Granger, do you have a comment?"

"Well, Headmaster, it looks wonderful, except for one thing..."

Snape raised the eyebrow not covered by the mask and glared pointedly at her. He crossed his arms again and stood stiffly. Dumbledore glanced back at Snape, considering, and then looked back at Hermione.

"Go on, Miss Granger. What's wrong?"

Swallowing nervously, she looked at Dumbledore, avoiding Snape's hostile glare. "It's... it's his hair, sir."

Snape's hands snapped back to his sides, straight as a ramrod, and he drawled dangerously, "What about my hair, Miss Granger?"

Dumbledore huffed at Snape's forbidding tactics and grasped Hermione's elbow, drawing her attention. Encouragingly, he repeated, "What's wrong with his hair?"

Hermione set her teeth and explained, "The Phantom's hair is short. Or at least, it's pulled back. It looks like it's slicked back. With Professor Snape's long hair hanging loose like that, it detracts from the mask."

Menacingly, Snape hissed, "I'm not cutting my hair..."

Dumbledore interrupted him. "No one is asking you to, Severus. Calm down. It's very simple, you'll just have to slick your hair down and tie it back." He glared at the sullen younger man, and was hit with a wicked inspiration. Oh, he'll be perfectly incensed, but it's so much fun to bait him over such little things. It'll do him good to get off his high horse and let someone else be the expert at something for a change.

Snape saw the devilish gleam in Dumbledore's eye and was instantly wary. What was the old man going to do to him now? Wasn't all this enough? He recognized that look, and it always meant trouble. He stiffened, on guard, as Dumbledore spoke again.

"As a matter of fact, Miss Granger, why don't you show us what you mean? If you'll just tell me what you need, I'll Summon those materials for you. You can instruct Professor Snape in how to properly arrange his hair for the role." He choked back a chuckle at the abject horror on Hermione's face and the incredulous rage on Snape's.

Hermione paled as she glanced at Snape, who was fuming. But, she couldn't refuse Dumbledore. He was the headmaster and the Director. Gathering up her Gryffindor courage, she faintly listed, "I need a comb, an elastic band, and some hair gel, or pomade."

Dumbledore promptly waved his wand and a tray with the required items appeared. Dumbledore grandly placed a chair in front of him for Snape to sit in, and waved his hand over it, beaming at Snape.

Snape snarled at him and grudgingly sat. Hermione stepped behind Snape at Dumbledore's urging and looked down at the crown of her Potions Master's dark head. I can't believe I'm doing this! She pointed her wand at his head and murmured a spell.

Snape heard her and felt the magic around his head. He whipped around to glare at her. "What was that, Miss Granger? What did you just do?" His voice was coldly threatening and harsh with anger.

Backing away a step, she swallowed and answered, "It's... just a charm I learnt to detangle hair, sir. That's all. I wouldn't want to pull your hair combing it back."

He eyed her suspiciously, then sneered, "Hmph. I suppose you, of all people, would learn a detangling charm..." Arching his eyebrow again, he spun and sat back in the chair, stiffly. "Get on with it, then!"

Dumbledore fought to keep the laughter from bubbling out of him at how uncomfortable they both were. Oh, he was going to get it from Minerva when she heard about this. Well, maybe not so much on Snape's behalf, but certainly for her prize student!

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Snape's insult and grimaced at him. She almost stuck her tongue out, but stopped before she did so, remembering Dumbledore watching them. She picked up the comb and reached a trembling hand out toward Snape's hair. Steeling herself, she slid it from the top of his head down the back, smoothing his hair down to the back of his shoulders. When he didn't hex her immediately, she repeated the movement, a little more confidently this time. She combed his locks smooth and looked at the result.

Really, his hair's not so bad. It's pretty glossy and at least it doesn't frizz! She rolled her eyes inwardly at the monstrosity she called her own hair. I can't believe I have to touch it! I hope it's not as greasy as it looks.

She reached for the hair product and scooped a bit onto her fingers. Combing his hair back at the temple, she held the comb for a moment while she smoothed the gel across his hair. It's not that bad. It looks greasier because of how it sticks together when it's not combed, but it's smooth, not sticky. She continued across the top of his head, slicking his hair back and smoothing it down with her hand. When she had all of it done, she gathered it at the nape of his neck and secured it with the elastic. She patted and smoothed it one last time before declaring, "Done, sir."

Snape was annoyed, at first, by Dumbledore's interfering. He knew the old man was doing this just to get under his skin. But, what choice did he have? He never really had choices when he faced Dumbledore, even now that the Dark Lord was gone. Then, he felt the comb slipping through his hair, lightly tugging at his scalp. He fought down a shudder at the sensation. He had never experienced someone brushing his hair before. He was completely unprepared for the feelings it evoked.

It was soothing. He felt like he was being lulled to sleep by the smooth, repetitive movements. And when he felt her hands spreading the hair gel on his head, he bit back a sigh. His scalp hummed with sensitivity. Every touch, every tug felt like a caress. It was like getting a massage, only better. He wanted to close his eyes and relax into the sensations. He felt all of his anger at the situation, and therefore Hermione, draining away under her gentle ministrations.

Suddenly he understood the blissful expression on animals' faces when they were being petted. He idly wondered if her hands would be as competent and tender stroking other parts of his body. His loins stirred at the thought and his blood pounded through him, hot.

Embarrassed at the turn of his thoughts and afraid they would be noticeable, he ruthlessly diverted his mind from the pleasurable sensations of Hermione's hands and focused on tamping his arousal. He was both disappointed and relieved when she finished and had neatly secured his hair into a thick tail at the base of his skull. He suppressed a shiver at her fingers lightly grazing the tender flesh of his neck as she gathered any stray hairs. He sat forward and stood slowly. Turning, he looked at Hermione and Dumbledore.

There he was, in complete Phantom costume: tuxedo, mask, and shiny hair pulled away from his face. Hermione inhaled sharply at the drastic difference from how her Potions Master usually looked. His regal posture suited the character perfectly, and she gazed up at him admiringly, marvelling at how debonair he looked.

Dumbledore clasped his hands and beamed impartially at both of them. "Splendid job, Miss Granger. I say, Severus, you must see yourself..." With that, he waved his wand and Summoned a tall standing mirror. Snape walked toward it, suspiciously, not sure he wanted to see how he looked. When he saw his full reflection, he stopped.

He was overwhelmed with the change Hermione had wrought with his hair, and the foreign, yet classy, style of his clothing. He stared at himself through the half mask, in awe at how different it looked. It truly no longer looked or felt like a Death Eater mask, and he felt his soul lift, as if a burden that had been weighing it down had disappeared. Gingerly, he reached up to touch the mask, turning his head from side to side, staring at his reflection. As he turned his head, he hesitantly patted his hair, smoothly slicked back. He ran his fingers over it and felt the short, thick tail at the nape of his neck.

Surprisingly, he thought it wasn't a bad look for him. He actually liked it. But, he reminded himself, it didn't allow for using his hair like a shield, hiding his true machinations. He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at his suit, smoothing the coat down and adjusting the bow tie. He turned to see his profile and saw the reflection of Hermione behind him. He was stunned by the expression in her eyes.

Hermione was staring at Snape, rapt in appreciation. Her eyes shone with a mixture of delight, pride, and yearning. She was smiling softly, devouring him with her eyes. Snape stopped as he saw her, scrutinizing her, trying to figure her out. After a moment, she looked up and noticed him staring intensely at her in the mirror. She gasped and blinked rapidly, flustered.

He saw the embarrassment and nervousness cloud her expression as she realized he had been looking at her. Once again unsure of how to react to her, he briskly focused on Dumbledore and said, "Thank you, Headmaster. That will do. May I have my own robes back now?" He took off his mask and handed it to the older man.

Dumbledore bustled about and quickly transfigured the costume back into his normal robes. He Banished the mirror and picked up the other costume pieces along with his notes. "Very well. Thank you for your help, Miss Granger. Severus, I suggest you take these items with you as you'll need them later." He waved his hand airily at the tray with the comb and gel. "The rehearsal schedule for next week will be up soon. Don't forget to check the notice board. Keep up the good work, you two. I'm very pleased with your progress so far. Good night, Miss Granger, Professor Snape." And with that, he shuffled out through the staff door, leaving Hermione and Snape alone.

An uncomfortable silence reigned. Snape stiffly looked down his nose at her, and she nervously chewed her lip, eyes darting around the Hall. Hermione finally looked up at him, and once again found herself staring at him, wide-eyed.

In a flat tone, Snape blurted, "What?"

Hermione shook her head and smiled faintly. "Nothing, sir. It's just that you look so different with your hair out of your face. It's so unusual, and I can't help but look."

Sneering, he drawled, "How ever do you manage to give such a long explanation for 'nothing'?" He saw her smile wane and the spark of indignation flash in her eyes.

"I meant nothing bad, sir, as I knew you immediately would think it was. It's quite good actually..." she added, reflectively, gazing up at him speculatively.

Unable to accept that, he countered, "Please, Miss Granger, spare me your insincere flattery. I am well aware that I am not, nor have I ever been, anything pleasant to look at."

She scowled at his self-derision. Haughtily putting her hands on her hips, she eyed him severely and said, "Stop that! Can't you learn to take a compliment? You may not be what others consider conventionally handsome, but you have... an aristocratic quality that can be quite appealing, if you'd ever allow it to be."

He stared at her, completely stunned. First, she talked back to him. Second, she berated him. Third... she thinks I'm appealing? He felt dazed, and regretted his lack of concealing hair to hide his shock. Feeling his cheeks warming, he abruptly gathered the hair products and straightened to his full height, not realizing that that was part of what she was talking about when she mentioned that aristocratic quality.

Hermione suddenly realized that she had just been lecturing her professor in her innate bossy way. She gasped and swallowed, her hands wilting to her sides. Cringing at her audacity, she waited for him to flay her with sarcasm, or deduct points, or give her another detention. When he merely stared at her, confusion and surprise swirling in his black eyes, and then spun away to pick up the hair products, she heaved a huge sigh of relief.

Completely discomfited, Snape inclined his head a fraction and said, "It is late, Miss Granger. I suggest you return to your Tower. Good night."

She composed her expression into one of polite regard and nodded. "Of course, Professor. Good night." She turned to walk toward the door. As she stepped away, Snape interrupted.

"Miss Granger." She turned, inquiringly. "Do not forget your detention with me Monday night. 7:00. In the classroom."

She looked down, obediently. "Certainly, sir. I will be there. Good night." With another bob of her head, she spun and walked out of the Hall, the whole way feeling as if two sharp points were being burned into her back. But, she didn't dare turn to see him watching her. Trying to keep her pace steady and not rush away from his dominating presence, she forced herself to act calmly and exit. It wasn't until she was halfway up the stairs that she glanced back, and, seeing no one, ran the rest of the way to her room, her heart racing oddly and her cheeks flushed. She slammed her door shut and hastily got ready for bed.

Tucked under her covers, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep, trying to forget how it felt to smooth Snape's hair away from his face, to run her fingers along his neck. She fell asleep to the image of her, facing a seated Snape, looking down into his endless black eyes as she ran both hands through his long hair, tangling them in it as he pulled her into his lap to kiss her.

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

Snape hated feeling so flustered around Hermione; he needed to reassert his authority. As she started to leave, he remembered the detention he had given her the night before. Yes! That's precisely it... His voice was silky as he said, "Miss Granger. Do not forget your detention with me Monday night. 7:00. In the classroom." She lowered her eyes meekly and he was mollified. Having regained a bit of his equilibrium, he gazed after her, watching her smooth stride and her appealing figure. He wished he could see inside her, to sort things out for good, but even as he thought that, he shied away, not sure if he could handle the shocks he might get, like the last time he delved into her mind.

Pensively, he wondered, She couldn't possibly be attracted to me. It must be the play. Nothing else makes sense. He slowly made his way back to his quarters as he thought. But, why does she keep looking at me like she wants to devour me? No one has ever looked at me like that before. And she said... she said I was appealing. She said it was a compliment. That's not the first time she's complimented me either. There were the comments on my knowledge, my skills, my work for the Order, my... voice, and even the day we defeated Voldemort she claimed to care about me. And now she's told bloody Potter to back off! That was priceless! I can't believe she did that. She certainly seemed to be enjoying his... attentions last night! He scowled at the memory.

I've never known any other students to stop their illicit liaisons just because they got in trouble. She's different from all the other girls... He squinted in his determination to figure out what it was that set Hermione Granger apart from everyone else. He entered his quarters and mechanically changed for the evening, donning his lounge wear and heading for the bathroom.

That alter-ego voice of his whispered, That's because she's a grown woman. She has more maturity and sense than all of these other dunderheads put together.

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the voice. He entered his bathroom and muttered, "Lumos." Opening his eyes, he was taken aback at his reflection in the mirror. Wonderingly, he gazed at himself, looking at the Romanesque planes of his face, now completely open to view.

He touched his hair again, briefly recalling the sensations from Hermione combing it and smoothing it. He felt a tingle in his centre at the thought. He backed away and straightened. Looking at his posture, so formal and regal, he thought, I guess I can see her point...

Then he looked down at his chest, framed by the dark green satin of his open robe. He had never been particularly proud of his body, but he wasn't ashamed either. He knew he was thinner than most tastes preferred, and he was so tall. But, he felt satisfied with the understated strength in his wiry, flat muscles. At least he had never allowed himself to go to fat. And, even though he was thin, he was not weak. In his hyper-vigilance as a Death Eater-cum-Order Spy, he couldn't allow himself to be weak.

The dark hair on his chest stood out against his skin. He rather liked his preternaturally pale complexion. It made for an interesting study in contrasts, with his black hair and eyes set off by his ghostly pallor.

Musing about whether or not someone like Hermione could really find him attractive, he reached up to remove the elastic from his hair. Setting it on the sink basin, he shook his head to bring his hair back to its normal position. Only the ends moved, swinging over his shoulders.

Narrowing his eyes at his reflection, he lifted his hands to run through the slicked back locks on the crown of his head. Separating the tresses with his fingers, he felt the gentle tug on his scalp, reminding him again of Hermione combing his hair. He closed his eyes and relished the sensations in his memory.

Moments later, he opened his eyes again to see himself with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips and his hands buried in his long black hair. Jolting back to reality, he frowned and dropped his hands to the sink, leaning toward the mirror. Staring into his own eyes, he chided himself for continuing to think about Hermione, ordering himself to forget about her as anything but a student.

Closing his eyes to blot out the sight of his own pain, he leant his forehead against the cool glass and sighed. Resolutely, he stood back and opened the mirror, not looking in it again. He withdrew another Dreamless Sleep potion from the cabinet, briefly grateful that he could make as much as he needed without anyone to question him on why he was using so much, and retired to his bedroom.

He doffed his lounge wear, slid under the cool satin sheets, propped himself on one elbow, and downed the potion in one long swig. Settling back on his pillow, he sighed deeply and let the potion pull him into unconsciousness.