It Starts With A Dance

Severus bottled the Wolfsbane and turned to his lover, taking in her slightly disheveled robes and wide smile. It was enough to make the corners of his own mouth quirk, and he felt that tug again. He knew he'd told her once, but to use the words again. . . would that cheapen them? Could he even bring himself to say them again, without the passion to distract her from how thoroughly she'd ensnared him? Hermione continued her lovely assault on his back and shoulders, even from the odd angle of the embrace, and oddly, the voice of Albus Dumbledore rumbled through his mind.


"Love is a terrible thing to waste, my boy. Mind you don't do it too often," the old headmaster had said a few times, indicating his own clandestine love affair with a certain Scottish animagus. For some reason known only to Albus and Minerva themselves, they'd never come into the open with their own love, and Severus wondered for a moment if they'd ever married.


A decision was made that moment, one that would shape Severus and Hermione's life from that point onward.


"Hermione, did you hear what I said the other day?" Severus said, his voice low and velvety, a voice that would calm a child or ignite fire in a woman. Hermione smiled at him wickedly, drawing back a bit from their embrace to regard him better.


"Which thing? You do say an awful lot, love," Hermione said, teasing. She had an idea of where he was going, but she didn't want to lead him there, or make the wrong assumption. But a small part of her just wanted to hear the words again, feel the rush the affirmation would give her.


"I say an awful lot? This, from the most ~"


"Insufferable, know-it-all Gryffindor. I know. Continue," Hermione said, smiling, arms around him, eyes locked on his. Say it, say it, say it, Severus. Don't back down now, tell me, tell me, so that I can leave this room happy. So you can leave this room happy today!


"What I want to know is if you heard what I said the other day. When we were making love. And if you know how much I meant it?"


Hermione's smile turned watery, and she sighed greatly. She nodded and bent her head low, trying to keep from crying in her joy. This would have to do, for now. Her heart was screaming at her, but in her head she knew him: he loved her, and he knew it, he was acknowledging it, and she was breaking through that tough shell, breaking him open for herself. It was all she could do to not jump up and down in her glee, to shout for the joy of it.


"Hermione? Are you crying? This is not the reaction I was expecting, love. What's wrong?" Severus said, wrapping his arms tighter around her, trying to comfort her. Alarm was ringing in his head, but almost instinctively he knew that she was delighted, not dismayed.


Hermione shook her head, leaning into him. "I'm not upset, Severus. Trust me, these are happy tears. Strange, I know, but I'm so happy I am crying. I just . . . feel so much right now. You've done nothing wrong."


"If this is the reaction I get, then I'm never saying it again."


"Say what?"


"You know."


"But you could tell me again."


"Or I could leave it to your imagination."


"That has its possibilities. Hmm. . . " Hermione winked broadly at Severus, and he had the grace to blush.


"Stop that. Does it really mean that much to you?" Severus asked irritably.


"Well, Harry told me, Ron told me, and Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys. Even Viktor~"


"Enough! I love you, you insufferable~"


"Know-it-all Gryffindor. Been there, done that. And me, too, by the way."


"You, too what?"


"I love you, too, Severus. You big, greasy~"


"Black bat. Now, where were we. . . "

55555

Meanwhile, down in Hogsmead. . .


"Are you sure you weren't followed, my dear?" a figure in a black coat said to a young girl sitting across from him in a small booth in a shady tavern on the dodgy end of Hogsmead.


"Of course not, dear. Now, since your last attempt failed, what do you expect me to do?" the girl said, and her voice was full of interest, yet oddly detached. She was much like her mother and father, twisted and dark, but she had a sugary coating, much like a bonbon left too long in the freezer. Occasionally, she would feel an odd pang when she tormented her professor, but it was what he wanted, and she could do no less. A part of her, the last vestige of her sanity, screamed that to disobey him would be her destruction, even if obeying destroyed other parts of her.


"We can leave the bulk of your . . . duty for later, my dear. All you have to do is bring her to me here in Hogsmead. Surely you can manage that?" the hooded figure said, and a terrible smile broke cross his face, the only feature visible to the others in the seedy venue. He reached a smooth hand out and barely caressed her cheek, and she sighed as she leaned into his palm, inhaling his scent. For the first time, it nauseated her. She shivered, and hoped he mistook the shiver for desire. Instead, she moved to the matter at hand.


"Of course. And by the way. . ."


"Yes?"


"It was bloody brilliant of you to use Wood. Everyone expects Slytherin's to be nasty and conniving. But with Wood, now she'll fear even her own House for the Black Water."


"Thank you. Your insight was truly. . . remarkable."


"You're welcome, my heart."


"Always remember who your parents promised you to, Phantasma."


"I will~ Fuck. I think somebody found me. Leave, now!"


The hooded figure apparated away with a muffled pop while Phantasma Lestrange peered around the room, trying to find the tail. She moved to sit back down, and her stomach revolted. Clutching her hand over her mouth, she gave up and left.


Five minutes after she left, Wally Longbottom stumbled out of the taverna and ran as fast as he could back to Hogwart's, hoping to beat Phantasma and speak to his cousin. He couldn't believe his eyes. Phantasma had been sneaking out of school grounds, meeting with strange men! But more than anything else~--


Hermione was in trouble!