One Hundred And One Ways To Brew Lust

11. Cinderella\'s off to the ball...


The next day, Gryffindor trounced the Slytherin team to within an inch of their life on the Quidditch pitch. Not only did Harry catch the snitch when they were eighty points ahead, but Ron made four brilliant saves, earning the loudest cheers yet of “Weasley is our King” from the raucous Gryffindor mob.

They filed up to their dorms to get ready for the Venetian Yule Ball. Hermione was genuinely happy for the team, though she felt sad that Christmas would see her separated from her friends. Oh well, she thought, it’s only a fortnight till New Year’s Eve! She gave Ron a peck on the cheek to congratulate him before racing up the stairs to get changed. He turned pink and went up to transfigure his robes to look like Louis XVI. He had no idea who this was, but Hermione assured him that if he dressed in this way, he’d match her costume perfectly. When he uttered the incantation she’d given him, he was horrified to see his dress robes transform into a pair of something akin to knickerbockers, a waistcoat, a jacket with tails, and a frilly blouse! To top it all off, there was a whitish wig with girly curls. Ron turned five shades of red and held up the wig for Harry to see.

“Can you believe this? There’s no way I’m putting this on!”

“Oh, give over, Ron! It’s all in good fun. Look at mine,” Harry grinned as he held up a Salieri-style wig. Ron felt slightly mollified at this.

“At least we’ll be wearing masks. If I can hide all my hair under this wig, there’s still a chance no one will recognise me,” he grumped.

***

Over in the girls’ dormitories, Hermione was struggling to get into her corset. She had transfigured her robes into a sumptuous green courtesan’s gown, but she was having a hard time with the straps of the whalebone corset, which was digging into her ribs.

“Urgh!” she complained to Lavender. “I don’t know how Muggle women ever wore these things. I can see why they were prone to fainting spells!”

She put on her ‘culottes’ undergarments, followed by a hooped petticoat, and started to fix her make-up to fit the style of the late eighteenth century. After extensive research in the Muggle History section of the library, she wanted to ensure everything would be just perfect. She dusted her skin lightly in white powder, traced her lips in red, and used eyeliner to highlight her eyes. She then painted a fake beauty spot onto one of her cheeks. Feeling bold, she added one above her right breast, since the low-cut bodice of her dress had pushed her modest cleavage up in a flattering way. Lavender helped her pull the dress over her head. It slimmed her waist, and the skirts then puffed out over the petticoat. As she adjusted the wig onto her head, Parvati and Lavender eyed her appraisingly.

“Well, Granger, I must say, that dress really suits you!” Lavender said in admiration.

“Yeah! Ron Weasley’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you,” Parvati gushed enthusiastically.

“Do you think so?” Hermione smiled. Though, in her heart she realised it was the reaction of a certain Potions Master she was more interested in. “I’m not sure how easy it will be to dance in this thing,” she added.

Hermione and Parvati then helped Lavender into her gown, a sumptuous Byzantine dress with purple and silver brocade and an Empire waistline that cinched flatteringly just below the bosom. They did her hair up into soft curls.

Parvati giggled merrily: “Ooooh, Lav! You look like an exotic version of Lizzie Bennett!”

Lavender, who was from a wizard family and had never read much Muggle literature, stared back blankly. Parvati’s face fell. “Oh never mind! Help me with my costume, why don’t you?”

Parvati’s was the most exotic yet. She had a gorgeous Indian costume her mum had dned ned for her. Hermione thought it looked a bit like something from ‘A Thousand And One Arabian Nights’. The flared trousers and matching short-cropped top were made from beautiful forest-green raw silk, embroidered with pure silver thread. She added gold bangles to her wrists, a nose ring, and gold ankle bracelets. She winked up at the girls as she popped a sparkling diamond into her navel to enhance her bare midriff.

“Ooooh! Naughty,” Lavender giggled.

With a final glance in the mirror, the three of them walked down arm-in-arm to meet the boys in the common room. Ron and Harry had been talking excitedly about the afternoon’s Quidditch match, but they fell silent as the trio entered the room.

“Wow! Nice one, girls!” Harry smiled warmly at them.

Ron was speechless as he took in Hermione’s outfit, gawking at her. Harry nudged him in the ribs, and Ron finally shut his mouth, and offered his arm to Hermione, as he blushed crimson. “Well, er, shall we?” he said.

She took his arm and their party left in high spirits.

Outside the Great Hall, Harry met Cho, who had on a beautiful dove-grey silk dress her dad had brought her from Hong Kong. Her hair was up in traditional Chinese style, with fine alabaster combs in it. He kissed her on the cheek admiringly and offered her his arm.

As everyone paired up to enter the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick stood outside, ready to conjure up his special no-stick masks in coordinating colours and styles. Hermione’s was a dignified white porcelain mask, complete with an elegant nose, while Parvati’s sparkled with gold sequins. Lavender’s was made of white silk on paper, and had an attractive fringe of tassels for a border.

The Hall had been bewitched to look like a Venetian piazza, and there were canals running along the sides, with gondoliers waiting to punt couples to the back of the Hall, which had been transformed into a tasteful indoor garden. The walls were festooned with banners of purple, green and silver. But it was the ceiling that caught Hermione’s eye. As always it had been bewitched to look like the night sky, but the waning gibbous moon seemed extra-large, and Venus was glowing brightly near the horizon. The Milky Way danced across the middle. It took Hermione’s breath away.

She looked around her, admiring everyone’s costumes. How freeing it was not to automatically know who belonged to which house! She felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. In fact, with everyone sporting their attractive masks, it was hard to know for certain who was who. Certain people, however, were unmistakeable. Hermione giggled with Parvati as they watched a tartan-clad woman they knew must be Professor McGonagall talking animatedly to a tall figure in brilliant white robes, and long straight white hair.

“Look! Dumbledore’s dressed up as Gandalf the White!” Harry said in awed tones. Professor Dumbledore also wore a black mask with ornate, gothic spikes. “And he’s wearing a wraith’s mask! I reckon he’s got his wires a bit crossed” he snickered with Hermione. Ron just shook his head and looked at his friends like they were mad.

As they surveyed the room, Hermione’s eyes fell upon a female figure sporting a black skullcap and a full-faced white mask with a tear painted on. She wore a frilly circular collar of black satin, a w sat satin tunic with three black buttons going down the front, and matching white satin trousers. She was gazing up into the eyes of a taller figure dressed in a distinctive purple three-cornered hat. His outfit was a two-piece velvet Renaissance suit with purple and green interspaced diamonds. And he wore a thin shimmering green mask lined with green silk ribbons. His blond hair was just visible under his hat and his mouth was curled into a smile.

“Look, Ron! They’re dressed as Pierrot and Harlequin. What lovely costumes…” Hermione smiled. Ron had no idea who Pear-rot and Harley Quinn were, but he smiled indulgently and nodded for her.

A little further off, they noticed two large, lumbering figures sporting the matching masks of Tragedy and Comedy. Unmistakeable in spite of their masks, Hermione rolled her eyes and whispered to Ron, “Crabbe and Goyle, don’t you think?”

“Definitely! Tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb…”

Hermione and Ron laughed as they moved further into the Hall. As they passed the group of teachers, Hermione said: “Good evening, Professor Dumbledore”.

“Good evening, Hermione” he answered smiling.

“You recognised me!” Hermione said with a start.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled down at her behind the wraith’s mask.

Professor McGonagall chuckled at this point. “It takes more than a mere mask to fool the Headmaster, dear!”

At tpoinpoint, the orchestra started to play a Strauss Waltzn tun turned to Hermione, “Shall we?”

And Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see that Ron was doing an impressive job of twirling her around in a fast Viennese waltz. “Where did you learn to dance like this, Ron? You’re really good!”

She saw his cheeks turn a shade pinker under his narrow mask, and he admitted: “Well, actually, I’ve bewitched my shoes…”

She giggled at this. “Well, regardless of the reason, the results are terrific!”

Ron beamed proudly at this.

After a few more dances, Hermione needed a break, and Ron went off to get her a glass of mulled blackberry wine.

While she sat on a couch waiting, a tall, lean figure dressed in an elegant black tuxedo with top hat and tails and an off-white mask walked up to her and bowed, holding out his arm to her. “May I have this dance?”

And so it went… Hermione was asked to dance by many fellow students, never quite sure whom she was dancing with. “But, I suppose, they don’t know it’s me either.”

She alwayse sue sure she danced two dances with Ron for every one she danced with another partner. She tried not to think of Snape, whether he’d show up, or how he planned to ask her to dance without being recognised by Dumbledore’s all-seeing eyes.

She was just taking another break, chatting to Parvati and Padma (who had on a similar costume to Parvati’s, only hers was in a brilliant purple), when there was a slight commotion near the area where the teachers were standing. Hermione’s heartan tan to race when she saw the source of it: Snhad had just come storming into the Hall with his black robes billowing behind him as he made his way towards Dumbledore in haste. They had a brief conversation, and Dumbledore pointed in the direction of a group of students.

Snape marched over to the boy dressed as Harlequin and, following what looked like unpleasant words, the boy followed him out of the room.

“I wonder what that’s all about?” Ron asked as he brought Hermione a glass of spiced Pumpkin Juice Punch.

“I wish I knew,” she muttered under her breath.

***

Snape was livid. He marched the boy into his office, closing the door whilst trying to reign in his temper.

“Draco, what have you been brewing in here?”

Malfoy leaned back against the door, taking off his hat. “Sir, you told me we could use your office to prepare for NEWTs!”

“Draco, do not test my patience. Not tonight! Whatever you’ve brewed in here, it’s nothing that’s on the exam curriculum. I’ve left my distillation equipment in my chambers, or else I’d already have analysed this mulch. Now, what was in here?”

Malfoy hhe ghe good sense to look at least a bit sheepish. “It was a Lust Potion, Sir.”

“A Lust…” Snape’s mind was racing. “When did you start experimenting with this?”

“Only tonight, Sir!”

“But you barely scraped by an Acceptable on the Love Potion assignment I gave you two weeks ago. How did you manage a Lust spell on your own? Did you remember to leave out the dove tail feather?”

“Of course, Sir! Who’d want to add harmony and understanding to the mix? Urgh! No, we did it just as the book instructed us…”

“WE? Who helped you?” Snape demanded, adding: “And what book was it?”

“I think it was Potente Passion Potions, Sir. Actually, Pansy worked the spell. I only gathered the ingredients.”

Snape sat down, sighing. “And now, Draco, the ten thousand galleon question, and believe me when I say I will be able to tell if you are lying: what did you do with the potion?”

Draco’s shoulders hunched in defeat. “I’m not quite sure where it’s at now. I just know Pansy thought it would be fun to mess around with certain… Gryffindors… tonight.”

Snape felt the blood draining from him. “Well, Draco, I’m glad you’ve been honest tonight. I shall turn a blind eye to your transgressions this time, but I warn you not to try a stunt like this again. You may go.”

Malfoy muttered, “Thank you, Sir.” As he turned to go, the last thing he heard was Snape’s deadly calm voice muttering, “Stupefy!”

Snape walked over calmly to Malfoy, leaning over him with a pair of scissors.


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Author\'s note: Thanks again to all you lovely revrs! rs! Can you guess what\'s coming? :) Luna
p.s. couldn\'t for the life of me figure it out, but I have been unable to upload to this site for many days. I hope the problem\'s not at my end. Sorry for the delays.