Hermione's Dilemma

Chapter 3

By Ehann

She was late. It had taken some time to get her gown just so…She’d had to reapply the Charm three times, to achieve the precise result she was after. Her dress was emerald in color, a vibrant hue that set off her Charmed hair and eyes to perfection. The neckline was scooped, but the sides tapered up to spaghetti straps. The bodice was fitted, showing off her tiny waist, and she was wearing two crinolines underneath her gown which flared out her skirt, bell-like. It reminded her, she thought, of something from a hundred years ago. Still, this sort of gown, while old fashioned, definitely showed off her…charms… to their best advantage.

As she hurried down the staircases, she tried to remember that she was supposed to be poised and cool…That’s right. No schoolgirl flutterings tonight. At the entrance to the Great Hall, she bumped into a young man who could not been more than eighteen. He had auburn hair and lovely blue eyes.

“Pardon me,” Hermione said automatically.

“Not at all, my dear.” The boy looked down at her, smiling. “You look quite lovely, Miss Granger.” The blue eyes twinkled and then Hermione laughed, recognizing the Headmaster. He, of course, had taken on his own appearance one hundred and twenty five years ago.

“Your costume is perfect, Sir. I doubt anyone will know who you are.”

A girl stepped out from the shadows, then. Tall, with straight black hair, falling to her waist in a shimmer. “Humph,” she said. “I knew who he was straightoff,” she replied stiffly. This woman’s robes were crimson, and Hermione also figured out her identity with little problem.

“Minerva, you look beautiful.”

The older witch snorted inelegantly. “Beauty is as beauty does, if you ask me.”

Dumbledore slipped his hand in the pockets of his sky blue robes. “Well. Now that you’ve arrive, Miss Granger, it seems the only one we await is Severus.”

“Oh,” Hermione said. “Will he be in costume as well?”

“Of course,” McGonagall stated firmly. “It was required after all. I offered to help him with it, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

The Headmaster chuckled. “Why, Minerva, you know as well as I, that Severus has no need of any Charms to alter his appearance.”

To this, the Transfiguration Professor gave him a dour look, at odds with her youthful façade. “I never thought he did, Albus,” she retorted with more heat than perhaps necessary.

“Well, ladies, it would be my delight to escort you both in.” He offered his arms, which they took, Hermione on his left and Minerva at his right.

~~~~~~~~~~

Oh, no. Snape thought. Here comes another one. He had tried to make himself as unobtrusive as possible, settling himself at one of the many small tables set up along the edges of the room. He had been asked to dance no less than three different times, by three different women. Students! He reminded himself hastily. But Merlin’s balls, they were bold!

Yes, it had been a good long while since he had been out and about wearing his own face but…he still could not believe how differently people reacted. Just goes to prove that he felt more at home in his ‘Greasy Git’ Charm, than in his own features. Surely, there must be some irony there, no?

He found himself idly speculating about the other staff members. He had already figured out Hooch and Sprout. They had kept their features the same, deciding instead to actually wear costumes…Hooch had drawn black whiskers on her cheeks and applied a long tail to the back of her golden robes of fur. The small mask that covered her yellow eyes was also fur covered. Quite clever, Snape decided, especially with her unusual eyes.

Sprout was dressed in robes of pale green. She had woven ivy into her short hair, wearing it like a crown. The robes did not cover her arms however, and she had applied some sort of henna dye in a leafy pattern between her elbow and shoulder. The tattoo spiraled around the circumference of her arm and was actually a rather unique effect.

Snape had seen Dumbledore already this evening, and recognized him at once. The Headmaster had also chosen to use his own true looks as a disguise. No doubt, once Albus spied him in the back of the Hall, Snape’s identity would be out of the bag.

Snape took a sip of his tea and glanced idly up at the entrance to the hall. As if his thoughts had conjured him up, there was Dumbledore now, with a gorgeous woman on either side of him. One, he knew, had to be Minerva. Snape would recognize that pinched expression anywhere. The other…she looked slightly familiar. His brows furrowed and he tried to place her.

He concentrated, ignoring her face, and focusing on the way she moved…her hand gestures, the way she walked, the tilt of her head, and the way she carried herself. Whoever she was, she was wearing quite a striking glamour. Hmm. Her hair seemed off though. As if the pin straight locks seemed too severe on her and…Merlin’s teeth! For she had just looked directly at him. The icy blue eyes were the wrong color, of course, but that aside, she looked just like…

“Gods,” he murmured. Hermione Granger.

Well. Apparently, glamour or no, his reaction to her was exactly the same as yesterday afternoon. Snape frowned, not realizing he was doing so. It didn’t matter how she looked at any rate. She was not going to know him, with this disguise, so…

So, he was free to go up and talk with her, if wanted. Maybe have a dance like a normal person, instead of someone who was hated on general principles. Still. Miss Granger had not seemed to hate him at all, definitely odd given that he had not been…shall we say…a supportive teacher to her and her Gryffindor friends, while in his class.

Hmm. This promised to be interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~

She had been at the ball for nearly an hour and already had fended off more advances than the entire previous three years. It was disconcerting, to say the least. She shifted her feet, picking up one foot while balancing on the other…This Cinderella stuff was hard work, she thought. No one ever said, but she felt positive that those glass slippers pinched.

Currently, she was seated at one of the small tables scattered along the sidelines, nursing a cup of pumpkin juice. She wasn’t thirsty at all, merely holding onto it because it gave her hands something to do. Every so often however, she would remember to take a sip to keep up appearances.

That train of thought brought the Potions Master to mind. Hermione had not caught sight of him yet, at least if she had, she hadn’t recognized him whatsoever. She slowly scanned the crowd. Most of the students were dancing; Dumbledore had not hired a band, but rather had somehow arranged to have classical Muggle music piped into the Great Hall.

Now, she thought, if I was a foul tempered man, on the prowl for students getting into mischief, where would I be?

The answer came to her immediately. Why, right next to the doors leading out to the gardens, of course. She stood up, and adjusting her skirt so it fell smoothly, made her way through the maze of tables, taking a good hard look at every man whom she passed. One man in particular caught her attention—it was his look of bored indifference that seemed familiar. He had black hair, true, and wore it long, but there the resemblance to Snape ended. This man had clear pale skin, and very sharp cheekbones. His nose was straight, perhaps a bit roman in shape. His chin looked very stubborn indeed, and he was wearing of all things, a Muggle three-piece suit.

He leaned against the wall, staring at the dancers. Hermione smiled, as he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than here. She stepped up next to him and said, “Good evening.”

He glanced at her, startled. “Hello.”

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked.

“Not particularly.” He kept his eyes away from her, still staring out into the crowd.

Hermione didn’t move, just joined him, leaning against the wall. While she wasn’t exactly sure that this was Snape, she figured that the odds that it was he were pretty good. Perhaps she could entice him into making a very Snape-like remark that would let her know for certain.

“Why are you not dancing?” He inquired, out of the blue.

Taken aback, she gave a truthful answer. “Because I can’t be sure who is a student and who is not.” She paused. Turnabout… “Why aren’t you?”

He snorted. “Do I look like I’m having a good time?”

Her lips curved. “You look like you should be.”

Now his head snapped around and he narrowed his eyes at her. “Pardon me?”

It was odd, she discovered, to see Professor Snape’s velvety-brown eyes, glaring at her from a completely new face. “Well,” she began, “it’s just that you’re staring out at the dancers…one might gather that you might like to dance yourself…” Hermione let the sentence dangle, while part of her wondered where this flirtatiousness had come from. He had not yet figured out her disguise, as far as she knew…why not flirt a little? That is, assuming the man actually was Snape and not some student, or worse, Remus Lupin. She felt vaguely nauseous when she considered the possibility that she had been standing her flirting with Remus. Therefore, she took another long look at the man beside her.

“Are you asking me to dance?” he asked, examining his nails.

Hermione hesitated. His hands were large, and elegant, the fingers long and tapered…A slight shiver went through her. She met his eyes and said clearly, “Yes, I believe I am.”

Snape, for she was sure it was he, pinned her with a direct look, a look that held plenty of heat, and Hermione swallowed hard. “Very well. Come,” and he extended his hand. She took it, and followed him onto the dance floor.

He whirled her expertly about the floor, guiding her past the other couples with such ease that Hermione felt nearly bewildered. How did Snape know how to dance this way? Not that she was about to complain, given how much fun it was…His eyes never moved from hers, as they moved as one, and Hermione was beginning to feel a bit warm. More than a bit, to tell the truth.

And even though she knew logically that she was dancing with Professor Snape, she couldn’t seem to make her mind believe it. He seemed so different from his usual irascible self.

As if reading her mind, he said, “Since you have not mentioned it, I must assume you do not know who I am.” He raised one eyebrow and spun her. She hastily clung, tightening her grip on his hand and shoulder.

“Oh, I may know your identity…but I doubt if I know who you are,” she replied, a little breathless.

“Splitting hairs, are we?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Perhaps this conversation is best conducted…elsewhere.” He gracefully slowed them down and led her to the doors. He opened one, watched her cross the threshold, then followed her into the night.

The area directly outside the Great Hall had been enchanted into gardens, Hermione discovered, and a warming spell held firmly in place. Various statues and artwork had been replicated and placed strategically. Flowers abounded, in a variety that far outweighed the Halloween theme. Strange, Hermione thought, as she wandered. Latticework had been erected for the Ball, and gardenias had been woven into it. A little further up, the flower of choice was night blooming jasmine. Snape walked at her side and she wondered if he found this setting as peaceful as she did.

Snape turned abruptly, towering over her. This at least, was familiar; she remembered this feeling quite well from seven years of Potions. The difference however, was that she was not a girl any longer.

“So you know who I am.” It was not a question.

“I believe so.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Well.” She began tilting her head to the side. “I have to say, you look a little odd this way, Professor Snape.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He blinked. “What did you just say?” he demanded.

Miss Granger, in all her Charmed Glory seemed quite discomfited. “It’s only a Charm, professor, it doesn’t change who you are…and I…I like the way you normally look.

“Do you, indeed?” This was too rich, Snape thought. Brought low by a slip of a girl-woman. The way he normally looked. “So you prefer your own subdued looks to this then, Miss Granger?” He indicated her straight hair.

She flinched. “Before planning for this ball, it had never occurred to me to alter my appearance with magic. Can you say the same?”

Hmm. Technically, he could not. In spite of himself, he did see the humour in the situation though, and smiled before he could stop it. She drew in a quick breath and her pupils dilated. These light eyes she wore made it easy to discern. “So,” he drawled knowingly, “you like this face then, Miss Granger?”

Apparently taking the question at surface value she studied him for a long moment. “You don’t look that different. Let me finish,” she exclaimed. Continuing, “If I look closely, I don’t see this face,” she told him. She brought a hand up and drew a finger down the edge of his jaw. “All I see is you.”

Snape rocked back on his heels. All I see is you? What the hell?

“You…your hair, that’s the same, almost. Your eyes… the same. All you’ve changed is your skin and your nose, and even that’s not much different. Besides, like I said, you are still you, no matter what you look like.”

“If you believe that, Miss Granger, then why…?” He reached out and tugged a lock of her straightened hair.

She looked away.

He let the silence stretch out, having no aversion to it himself. He waited, watching her carefully.

Her voice oddly flat she said, “It was a Masquerade Ball. Wasn’t the point to come in costume?”

Was it? He had come in costume, after a fashion. What was his true face but another mask that he used for his own purposes. He didn’t feel comfortable in his own skin anymore, that much was a given. And it was rather unnerving to find that the disagreeable persona he had created for himself suited him far more than this… this handsome visage he now wore. What about Miss Granger? What was her role in this? After all, yesterday she had been staring at him in the staff lounge…had caressed his hands with a gentle naivety that had elicited a rather startling reaction from him.

Now she could barely meet his eyes. After months of glancing up to find her staring at him this new attitude of hers was…disappointing.

Quietly she asked, “I chose this costume because…” I thought it might get your attention. “I wanted to try something different.”

Then his body was pressed flush against hers, and he gripped her shoulders. “Is that what you played at yesterday, Miss Granger? Trying something different? A little pity for the Potions Master? Allow me to reassure you,” he continued coldly. “I do not need it.”

“Why are you being like this,” she cried. “I thought…”

“What,” he growled. She did not answer right away, and then Snape was struck by something. He had her forced so close to his body that there was no way she did not feel his erection pressing against her. Why was she not shoving at him, demanding to be released…

The silence stretched on again, and he found himself leaning down, just a bit. Her mouth looked…delicious. That she had not altered with her Charm, he was almost positive.

“If you’re going to kiss me,” she said suddenly, “I’d prefer you do it with your own face on.”

Chapter 3 >>