Hermione's Dilemma

Chapter 2

By Ehann

The stacked rolls of parchment teetered alarmingly on her desk, as the last student added his to the pile. The Hufflepuff second year flashed her a grin—Must think he did well, then—and darted from the room. Hermione leaned back in her chair, and stared restlessly up at the ceiling.

She was such an idiot. Practically falling all over Professor Snape…Gods, what he must think of her! Hermione folded her arms on her desk and rested her head on them, closing her eyes in misery. Unbelievable. She could just imagine Remus making an all too perceptive comment to Snape after she’d left the room. Damn, damn damn! She was nearly twenty five, not a school girl anymore. Why, then, was she suffering under this distinctly school-girl like crush? On a man who was oftimes, rude and unsociable, sarcastic and brooding, and oh, did she forget? At least fifteen years her senior.

But by the same turn, he could be surprisingly thoughtful, switching dinners with her simply to…why was that exactly? Because she’d asked? Except she hadn't. Just made an offhand remark. And in the lounge before, he hadn't been especially vicious at all…just looked at her with those weary eyes as if he’d like nothing better than to sleep for about ten straight hours…

Mmm. It was too easy to fantasize about curling up against his lean body like a cat, and sleeping next to him. Perhaps he was a restless sleeper, troubled by nightmares and dark thoughts. A small smile touched her lips. Perhaps he needed something more…relaxing to do at bedtime. Perhaps…

Oh, for! She really needed to stop this madness. And it was madness, she reminded herself in the sternest mental voice she could muster. Severus Snape had barely even looked at her for the past two years! To allow herself to think that one conversation at supper and one mildly intimate moment—mildly? Ha.—added up to anything…She sighed. It was the height of foolishness. And something a school girl would do.

Then the question becomes, she reasoned, what would a woman do, who wanted to interest a man? Get a haircut? Get a makeover? Hermione rather liked her hair as it was, hanging down to her shoulder blades, curling and waving. It had taken her this long just to be able to make it presentable, she wasn’t about to cut it off or change it now. And she had grown into her features, as well. Her nose wasn’t nearly as large as she’d always thought, her skin was clear, just a little too pink in the cheeks, perhaps, but…overall, she decided, she just didn’t want to bother with all that makeover business.

She was also, in spite of recent appearances, a practical woman, not given to flailing about, desperately attempting to draw male attention. If he didn’t see her as anything other than a colleague (or a pain in the neck, her mind supplied unhelpfully) then so be it.

Groaning, she pulled the stack of parchments into her satchel, then Reducing it, stuffed the tiny bag into her pocket. These exams were going to take forever, and since tomorrow she would be quite occupied with the Halloween festivities and dealing with the Masquerade…

Oh, no. What the hell was she going to wear?

~~~~~~~~~~

As it turned out, it didn’t matter. She had forgotten the insignificant detail that even though she happened to need a costume, she also happened to be rather strong witch with advanced abilities in Charms. She did teach the subject after all. So there were some options.

It all depended on what sort of look she wanted to sport. Glamours, all around, she thought briefly in disgust. She was sitting on her bed, surrounded by a semi circle of Charms books. She had just found out that there was a whole genre devoted to Glamours and Appearance Shifting Charms.

She leafed through her largest tome, Yourself or Someone Like you, stopping randomly as images caught her attention. The Cinderella Charm— that was a classic. She squinted, reading the tiny text. Renders ordinary robes into a scintillatingly beautiful ball gown, and ordinary features into such that will make any male observer drool…

Yuck.

Next.

The were Charms to make her taller, Charms to make her smaller, Charms to make her appear older, younger, change the colour of any body feature…Ooh, she thought. That could come in handy someday.

She sat bolt upright, then. What if she the only thing she changed was her hair, eyes, and skin tone? Could that possibly be enough to render an effective disguise? No, she scoffed to herself. It couldn’t be. She would be instantly recognizable…wouldn’t she?

It was true, she mused, that people tended to accept what they were presented with. Also true that most people looked no further than to what they saw on the outside before judging. Add those two things together and you got… “Jackpot,” she whispered.

It took her a few tries to get everything exactly the way she wanted it. Funny. When she was younger, she’d often wished to look different. Be prettier, taller, blonder…it had never occurred to her to magically alter her appearance. Still…glancing into her floor length mirror, she examined her results.

Her Charmed hair was reddish gold, lighter than auburn, but darker than copper. Experimentally she had straightened it, and though she would not prefer the look for everyday, it was a nice change for the ball. Her eyes…now what to do? She had always wanted pale eyes, like Draco Malfoy’s. He had been an absolute ass, to be certain, but he had simply gorgeous eyes. She couldn’t achieve the precise colour of his, and so settled for an approximation: halfway between silver and ice blue.

Now. Skin. She got up and looked in the mirror at her altered features, seeing only a stranger; a woman who looked poised and cool. A woman who was desirable without being overdone. Still. With her hair magically brighter in color, she really ought to jazz up her skin tones, shouldn’t she? Of course.

She tapped her wand restlessly against her palm, thinking. Then she had it. She pictured the result clearly in her mind and murmured, “Glamourus.” Her skin took on a golden hue, reminiscent of having spent a few hours on a beach in the south of France.

“Perfect,” she said, giving herself one last admiring glance. “Finite Incantatum.”

She was herself again, and breathed a sigh of relief. She just had to remember that it was only for one night. Only for the ball. When the clock struck midnight, no more Charmed beauty. Just regular Hermione. Too bookish by half with a heart that was secretly impractical.

~~~~~~~~~~

Severus Snape was in a foul mood. This was mainly the result of his being more confused than he could ever recall; not even when he turned his back on Voldemort in favor of Dumbledore, had his mind been so at odds with itself.

To add to his annoyance, the last thing in the world he wanted to do on a Saturday, was to chaperone a damned Halloween Ball. He could just imagine the mischief students would be getting into, with their costumes and Charms and various lackbrained schemes. He would probably end up spending half the night chasing hormonal teenagers out of the bushes so no one turned up pregnant.

Minerva had not helped matters any, when, under the guise of inquiring about his costume this morning, offered to temporarily Transfigure him into a more…how did she put it? He snorted. A more dashing figure.

Yes, he thought snidely, you’ll be taking her up on that straightaway, then? Sometimes, he truly wondered about her. Gryffindors…honestly, he didn’t understand a one of them. Take Miss Granger, for example. Every time he turned around there she was, staring at him with her big brown eyes. Then glancing away whenever he happened to notice…what exactly was she playing at?

He would have attributed it to idle speculation on his part but after the events of the afternoon…well, he was more confused than ever, both by her actions and, he admitted, his own response to it. She can’t possibly mean it the way it seemed, he told himself, harshly. As if a creature like that would ever…

No. It was more than impossible. And he was not about to set himself up to play the fool. Not again. And not with her. Bad enough that she already knew all of his failings. Former agent of Evil. Unable to speak without sarcasm dripping from his tongue. Big as life and twice as ugly…

Worse still, that he had been unable to stop his instinctive reaction to her touch this afternoon. But Gods above, it had been so long, since anyone had touched him so intimately…and the fact that it was Miss Granger, a former student of his…That she should be able to coax him into arousal with a casual caress on his hand…Snape shook his head, bemused.

He had not been planning on attending the ball in costume, especially not after Minerva’s jibe. However…the idea of perhaps speaking with her under the cloak of anonymity…well, that was quite the enticement. He certainly had no need of McGonagall’s aid to construct a suitable Charm for the occasion. After all, what was his current appearance, but the— Then he had it. No need for any Charms at all. Least of which the one he normally wore.

“Finite Incantatum,” he murmured. He felt the slight shimmer as the Charm disintegrated, then conjured a hand mirror. It had been so long since he’d seen himself without it, that he barely remembered. The Greasy Git, as his students referred to his usual appearance, served his purpose quite nicely. Most people, in Snape’s opinion, judged others solely on looks alone. It had started as an experiment the summer before his return to teach at Hogwarts. However what he discovered while wearing the Charm, was so…repulsive? Repugnant? Even if he was perfectly civil, and obviously he was a man of no little intelligence…it didn’t matter. He would be looked down upon by all, simply upon first judgment of his features.

This realization was so disturbing to his younger self, that he had started wearing the Charm constantly. Just to test the theory, one might say. And unfortunately, his hypothesis had been proven correct time and time again.

Except…

Miss Granger.

The way she looked at him, the way she could hardly drag her eyes from him…He felt her eyes upon him with such sensitivity he could recognize the sensation without having seen her! It was, he decided, extremely…weird.

Perhaps this bloody ball would not be as dreadful as he expected. He would see.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dumbledore had gathered at the students in the Great Hall for an announcement after lunch. With his blue eyes twinkling he informed them that all the staff was to be in costume as well, and the students were to be on their best behaviour, as they could not be sure of whom they were talking to. This policy was instituted for many reasons, the Headmaster continued, one of which being the fostering of inter House friendships.

“Perhaps without the veil of familiarity to blind you, you will all discover something unknown this night. It looks to be an interesting party, don’t you all agree?”

And the students had erupted into cheers, obviously up for anything after that. Besides, the opportunities for mischief had just multiplied exponentially.

Hermione thought this added an interesting wrinkle to the equation. So, even among the teachers, no one would know who anyone was. She wondered what Professor Snape was going to wear as a costume, and then realized that she probably wouldn’t find out. Until Midnight, naturally.

She fought not to glance down the table at the Potions Master. He was sitting next to McGonagall with a positively forbidding expression, while Minerva looked as if she was trying to repress a smile. Strange. Normally, those two did not get along at all.

Remus Lupin touched Hermione’s arm and she glanced over at him. “Any chance you’ll tell me what you’ll be wearing tonight?”

“Ha,” she told him. “What’s the fun in that? The whole point of this thing is to be someone else for an evening.” She paused then asked, “And who will you be, Remus?”

He smiled warmly. “I’ll never tell.” Just at that instant Snape pushed back from his chair and, walking behind them, was heading for the exit. “Severus,” Lupin called.

The Potions Master paused. “Yes,” he said impatiently, not looking at Hermione at all.

“We were discussing the Masquerade. Curiosity demands I ask, what—”

“Let me assure you, Lupin,” Snape snarled, “The only costume I require is the face I was born with.” For some reason, he smiled then, although it more closely resembled a grimace. “It is Halloween, after all. Do I not have a responsibility to frighten these students of ours as much as humanly possible?”

“But your face isn’t frightening,” Hermione protested, then flinched under the weight of his glare, belying her own words. “Well, it’s not when you have a civil look about you, anyways.” She raised her chin, determined not to show weakness, no matter what she felt.

Remus looked from Hermione to Snape and back again, a little surprised at the air crackling between them. “Well, if nothing else, it’s certainly be an interesting evening.”

Snape snorted. “Don’t you fools know that’s a curse?” He stalked off, black robes sweeping the stone.

Hermione took a deep breath. “Well, that was…”

“If I’m out of line, just tell me, and I won’t bring it up again, but…” He jerked his head at Snape’s retreating back. “Is there something…going on?”

She smiled, a little sadly. “Hardly. Until yesterday, I didn’t think he even knew my name.”

“Oh, he knows who you are all right,” Remus assured her.

Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean,” she demanded.

Obviously attempting to smother a smile, Remus said, “After you darted from the staff lounge yesterday, poor Severus stared out the window for nearly an hour. When he finally left, he was wearing a distinctly perplexed expression. Having never seen Severus Snape uneasy about anything, I can only assume that had to do with you.”

“Rather a baseless assumption, don’t you think?” She shot back. “Besides, you know what happens when you assume.”

Lupin poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. “Still,” he said. “I do believe I will stick to my assertion on this matter. Besides, you only have to wait until tonight to find out good Professor Snape’s true feelings.”

“Remus, please,” she said, pained. “I hardly feel comfortable dissecting my…”

Lupin raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Oh, do shut up,” she snapped and turned her attention to her cheese sandwich.

Chapter 3 >>