Chapters 21-30

Party Time in Slytherin House

He opened the door and allowed her to step through into the Slytherin common room. Once inside, Hermione couldn’t help staring. She’d been in here a few times since she’d become Snape’s apprentice, and had come to appreciate its strangely comfortable mixture of austere elegance and subterranean shabbiness.

Tonight, however, the room was unrecognizable: Slytherin house was having a party.

Witch lights illuminated the room, cast pillars of light through the skylights into the lake and flashed like spotlights in a disco. Silvery spider nets glittered above a bar that took up one entire side of the room in front of the fireplace. At the opposite end of the dungeon a raised platform had been transfigured into a lounge area, complete with green armchairs and settees. The space in between was empty, ready to serve as a dance floor.

Hermione gaped.

And she was not the only one. Several Slytherins, who were busy at the bar, arranging bottles and glasses, were staring at her. Others, who were working on transfiguring some last minute decorations (enchanting spiders to dance and making a skull’s eyes blink in emerald-green) plain gawked. And Pansy Parkinson looked as if she’d swallowed a streeler.

‘Sir!’ Pansy exclaimed reproachfully, turning to Snape.

The potions master directed a withering glare at the young woman.

‘Not one word,’ he snarled hoarsely.

Hermione flinched. She didn’t particularly care for spending an evening in the company of inimical Slytherins.

But Snape was already circling the room, subjecting the decorations to close scrutiny. Now and again he flicked out his main wand, and a pale glimmer indicated the use of a detection spell. Twice at the bar and once on the dance floor, he hissed at one or another of his Slytherins, who promptly removed whatever magical prank had caused the displeasure of their head of house.

Hermione remained near the portray that covered the entrance to Snape’s quarters, trying to ignore the dirty looks Pansy kept throwing at her, or how some Sixth Years at the bar whispered among themselves, even pointing fingers in a way that didn’t match the Slytherin reputation for subtlety.

When Snape returned to Hermione’s side, he looked satisfied.

‘Sir,’ she started, ‘maybe it would be better if I didn’t…’

‘What? Stay?’ He frowned at her and was no doubt about to reprimand her, when quickly hushed smirks at the bar caught his attention, causing Snape to direct his scowl at his students instead of at Hermione.

‘You are my apprentice,’ he told her. ‘You stay.
‘If those dunderheads have a problem with that, they are free to spend the evening in the solitude of their rooms. And you needn’t worry that any of them will dare to hex you in the face. Not as long as I’m present.
‘However,’ Snape added with a slight sneer, ‘I would not advise you to eat or drink anything that I haven’t inspected first.’

Hermione gulped. ‘Very well, sir.’

oooOooo

The clock above the fireplace chimed eight. Issuing from four black boxes in the corners of the dungeon, music started with a beat that made the dungeons shake around Hermione.

At the first well-known riff, Hermione spun around to face Snape, her mouth open in shock. Black eyes glittered with thinly veiled amusement. He obviously enjoyed the effect the Slytherins’ choice of music had on her.

‘I guess I knew that you don’t care for the Weird Sisters,’ Hermione muttered.

Snape smirked. ‘Just an advance warning—should you feel the need to discuss the origins of this music with certain pureblood students, or with anyone from another house for that matter, you will find yourself remarkably tongue-tied.’

Hermione stared at her master for another moment, before she lost control and started giggling. To her surprise, Snape’s sneer broadened into an almost wolfish smile. He moved closer to her so he could whisper into her ear, ‘It’s a not very well-kept secret, but Slytherin house throws the best parties at Hogwarts.’

She wasn’t sure what distracted her more, inhaling his scent again (vetyver, definitely bergamot, cypress and something else that escaped her at the moment) or by a volley of bats circling above her head that had been charmed to blink with green and silver lights.

She could only nod.

Snape must have waited for her momentary inattention, for he gripped her hand and drew her against him, even as he stepped out onto the dance floor. His black hair flew as he moved to the rhythm, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Hermione—flustered, surprised, clumsy—stumbled, caught herself, was pulled close to him, then pushed away again…clearly Snape knew what he was doing—dancing discofox of all things! When her mind finally caught up with her feet, she managed to growl at him when the dance brought their bodies close.

‘But you don’t dance!’ she accused him furiously. ‘You never dance!’

His answering smirk was positively devilish. ‘I never dance in public,’ he replied. ‘Not everything is as it seems, Hermione. You, my dear disciple, need to develop some appreciation for subtlety.’

She twirled, stepped, skipped, swayed into his arms. Together they moved forwards, then he spun her away from his body again.

oooOooo

‘You might have warned me,’ she complained later, when they were standing at the bar.

‘Here—cider for you, Guinness for me.’ He raised his glass to her.

If this hadn’t been Snape, Hermione would have said that a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes.

‘I might have,’ he agreed easily. ‘But it was much more fun not to warn you.’

Hermione felt her brows knit together. Snape—Severus Snape—was talking about fun? Surely the world was coming to an end. And there was no mistaking his expression now. Her dour master was decidedly amused by her reaction to his sneaky ambush.

‘You may, of course,’ Snape continued in his best lecturer’s tone, ‘keep in mind for future reference that the head of house always has the first and the last dance at Slytherin parties.’

oooOooo

---

« Chapters 11–20 oooOooo Chapters 31–40 »

---