A Turn for the Better

Chapter 40 ~ The Ball

When Hermione and Severus entered the Great Hall, Hermione clutching his arm and the wizard clearly escorting her, the volume of chatter dropped considerably. On the dais, Minerva McGonagall elbowed Albus, who was chatting with Poppy.

"Oof! Yes, Minerva?" the Headmaster said.

Minerva didn't reply but pointed. Albus followed her extended and slightly shaking finger to see Severus and Hermione walking through the Great Hall, heading for her parents table arm in arm. Hermione looked lovely and Severus was dressed to the nines.

"Ah, Severus has finally brought a date to the Graduation Ball. It's about time," Albus said with a smile. "Good for him."

Minerva frowned at him.

"What do you mean 'good for him,' Albus! That isn't a date . . . that is a student!" Minerva hissed.

Albus adjusted his glasses and looked at Hermione a bit closer.

"No, Minerva. That is not a student. That is a graduate," he said firmly. "There are no rules about a teacher taking a graduate to a Ball. It's done all the time, actually."

"Yes, but they've been out of school for years in that case, Albus. Miss Granger only graduated today. I doubt if her bags are even packed," Minerva said, frowning blackly as Hermione kissed both her parents in greeting, and Severus drew out a chair the young witch.

"That makes no difference, Minerva. Miss Granger is no longer a student at this school and Severus is well within his rights to escort her if she'll have him. And obviously, she will have him. Now, stop clucking and have some wine," the Headmaster said.

Minerva made a little "harrumphing" noise and sipped some wine, her eyes not leaving the couple.

Minerva wasn't the only one staring at the unlikely couple. From their table, both James and Lily were staring at the Potions master and the young witch accompanying him.

"Who is that with Severus?" Lily asked. "She looks young enough to be his daughter."

She frowned slightly as she eyed Hermione, who was smiling and looked absolutely lovely as she talked with her parents. Severus collected everyone's glasses and made his way to the libations table.

Molly stared as well.

"That's just scandalous. Obviously, he's snatched up some inexperienced young student," she said, frowning in disapproval. "He should be sacked."

"That's Hermione Granger. She's a Gryffindor," Harry said, also staring, his eyes dark. "She's going to be his apprentice."

They watched as she spoke to her parents, her face lighting up.

"Looks like she's going to be more than that," James said, frowning. "I wouldn't trust him with my daughter, that's for sure."

Murmured agreement rose from around the table, except from Harry and Ginny. Ron was staring over at the table with narrowed blue eyes, and Lavender was watching him closely, secretly glad Hermione was with Professor Snape. Maybe now, Ron would stop lusting after her.

James continued to frown. He still disliked Snape, for a number of reasons.

How did the greasy bat manage to get such a pretty young witch to accompany him? He must have used his position, coerced her in some way. Surely, she wasn't pleased to be with him. He was twice her age. Maybe she couldn't get a date.

Lily didn't say anything as she watched Severus return with a plate of appetizers and four drinks floating in front of him, flicking his wand and deftly setting them down in front of each intended imbiber. The dark wizard pulled out a chair next to Hermione and sat down, speaking to the young woman's father and shaking his hand. Lily noticed that there seemed to be an age difference between the witch's parents as well, although her father was in very good shape for a Muggle.

"Yes, Mr. Granger, I imagine a Stout would be more palpable to your palate than pumpkin juice, which is an acquired taste," Snape said to John Granger, who took an appreciative swig of the thick brew.

"Definitely a taste I haven't acquired, Mr. Snape. Thank you," the burly Muggle responded.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Snape," Jean also responded, sipping the wine he brought back appreciatively. "Pumpkin juice just doesn't do it for me."

Snape had brought a Firewhiskey for himself, and punch for Hermione. He also brought her a selection of appetizers. Jean surreptiously studied her plate. It was a nice balance between meat, fresh vegetables and sweets. John Granger eyed a rather small, sweet looking yellow cream cake on Hermione's plate.

He was a dentist, but he had a mean sweet tooth. Hermione saw him looking at it.

"Would you like my cake, dad? I'm not going to eat it," she said, sliding the plate closer to him.

"Why, thank you, kitten," John said, picking up the cake as Jean scowled at him.

"Now, John . . . " she started in.

"Oh, come now, Jean. It's just a little cake," he said to her, taking a bite of it and chewing blissfully.

Suddenly, he turned into a large, yellow canary.

"John!" Jean screamed as her husband fluttered his large wings wildly, feathers flying.

"Oh my gods! That was a canary cream!" Hermione exclaimed, "How did that get in there?"

Obviously, some of the graduates thought it would be funny to slip in a couple of the sweet joke treats, provided by Fred and George's Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Joke Shop.

"It will wear off momentarily, Mrs. Granger," Severus assured her as people laughed all around them. A few large, squawking canaries were scattered about the ballroom, all victims of the joke.

Suddenly, John's feathers fell off, and he was back to himself.

"What the hell is going on here?" he roared, as both Hermione and Jean sucked their lips in to keep from laughing at him.

"I'm afraid you were the victim of a prank, Mr. Granger. That cake was a joke cake. It turned you into a canary for a minute or two. But it is relatively harmless," the Potions master assured him.

John glanced around at the chuckling crowd and saw several other canaries of various sizes flapping their wings at the table. Lucius Malfoy just molted and looked positively murderous.

"If I ever find the little bastard who did this . . ." the blonde wizard hissed to his wife.

"I think I need a food taster," John Granger muttered as Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth in a further effort to keep from cracking up. Even Snape's mouth was slightly quirking as he, too, held in a chuckle.

"I told you not to eat it, John," Jean said, her mouth quirked.

John didn't answer her, but took a sip of his stout and looked sullen.

Music began to play, heralding the start of the ball proper. It was a waltz. Everyone remained seated however, waiting for some couple to start the dance. Albus and Minerva walked out on to the floor and led it off.

Neville looked at Luna excitedly.

"Care to dance, Luna?" he asked the witch, who was wearing a wispy pink gown and a large pink bow in her hair. Around her neck was a string of matching pink bottle caps.

"Certainly, Neville," she replied, and he took her hand and led her onto the floor, spinning her deftly before gently drawing her against him. Neville loved to waltz. He thought it was romantic and it gave him a chance to hold Luna close.

More people rose and walked to the dance floor, Hermione watching them wistfully. Jean studied her daughter, then her eyes flicked toward Snape, who was quietly watching the dancers. Then his dark eyes shifted to Hermione for a moment, then back to the dancers.

John was still sulking. Jean cleared her throat.

"How about we all have a dance?" she suggested.

Hermione perked up immediately, but John scowled.

"I don't feel like dancing," he groused.

"Well, I do. Unless you want me to go pick out some handsome wizard to trip the light fantastic with, I suggest you get up," Jean said to him pointedly.

John looked at his wife. In her white off-the-shoulder gown, she looked quite lovely. No doubt these wizards would line up to dance with her if she made herself available. They had been married for years, but John Granger was very jealous of his petite wife.

He stood up and gently pulled out her chair.

"Leave it to you to resort to blackmail," he said to her gruffly, but his eyes were full of affection as he took her hand and drew her up.

"Whatever works," she replied with a smile, then looked at Hermione and Snape. "Come along, you two."

John led her to the dance floor.

Hermione looked after them, slightly flushed, but not wanting to meet Snape's eyes. She had never seen him dance at any ball since she arrived at Hogwarts. But she could feel him looking at her. She looked down at her hands.

"Would you like to dance, Hermione?" the wizard asked her silkily.

Still not looking at him, Hermione replied, "Ah . . . no, that's all right, Professor. You don't have to dance with me."

"But I would like to dance with you, Hermione," he said softly, "very much."

Hermione looked up at him, hope in her eyes.

"You would?" she asked him.

Snape's dark eyes drifted over her slowly, making her insides feel like mush as they returned to her face, glittering slightly.

"Yes, I would," he responded, rising slowly and taking her hand, drawing out her chair.

Hermione felt as if she were in a lucid dream as Snape led her out to the dance floor, seeing the faces of people turning toward her in slow motion surprise as the music swelled around her. She felt him draw her close, one warm hand resting on her waist, the other gripping her hand lightly, his fingers entwined in her own, the first real contact between them since that night so long ago. It felt wonderful to be so close to him, to feel him touching her, moving her, leading her easily as they danced.

There seemed to be no one else in the world as she looked up into the Potions master's sober face, those dark eyes seeming to see inside her as they whirled across the floor between the other dancers, Snape's robes billowing slightly, Hermione's dress flowing prettily. They danced together as if they had done so all their lives.

Jean and John were watching them, Jean's eyes soft as she saw the dreamy look in her daughter's eyes as she looked up at the dark wizard. John was watching too, and as protective as he was, it was easy to see that his daughter was smitten with her professor.

In fact, anyone who had eyes could see that Hermione Granger and Professor Severus Snape, had something between them, something that superseded age and position. It was as if there was only the two of them in the entire world.

The music changed, now more modern. The dancers adjusted accordingly, changing their steps to fit the slow song lilting in the air. Snape spun Hermione and dipped her, their eyes locked for a moment before they resumed dancing.

"Dance closer, Jean," John murmured.

"John," Jean protested.

"I want to dance with my daughter," he said softly as they made their way over to the dancing couple.

Jean and John stopped dancing, and the Muggle tapped Snape on his shoulder. The wizard automatically frowned, then his expression sobered as he saw Hermione's father standing there, looking him in the eye.

"May I cut in?" he asked the wizard.

"Certainly, Mr. Granger," Snape said with a bow, releasing Hermione and watching as her father took his place. Then he looked at Jean.

"May I have this dance, Mrs. Granger?" he asked her with a slight bow.

Jean smiled.

"Certainly, Mr. Snape," she said, taking his hand.

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Hermione danced with her father, but her eyes were on Severus, dancing with her mother. John studied his daughter.

"Do I have to be worried?" he asked her softly.

Hermione looked up at him as if he'd just suddenly materialized out of thin air.

"What, dad?" she asked him.

"I asked you if I have to be worried," he said to his daughter again as they danced through the crowd.

"About what, dad?" she asked him, not comprehending the nature of his question.

"I was worried about Snape," her father told her gently. "About his motives. But I can see that you are interested in him, Hermione. I know that look. Your mother used to give it to me when we danced. You love that wizard, don't you?"

Hermione flushed, but didn't say anything. John sighed and drew her closer.

"Yes, you do. And he appears to be just as in love with you," he said to her. "History's repeating itself, I'm afraid. I just wish . . . it would have taken a bit longer. You're so young, Hermione."

"I know," she murmured, her head resting against her father's broad chest. She could hear his heart beating.

"I have to ask you this, Hermione. Has he . . . has he ever touched you? Are you already involved with him?" John asked her.

Love or not, if Snape had taken advantage of his daughter as his student, there would be hell to pay.

"Oh no, daddy. He's never touched me in my life," Hermione told him truthfully.

Well, relatively truthfully. When they had slept together, technically she hadn't been born yet. The lines were a bit fudged, but there it was.

John studied her face for signs of untruth. He didn't see any. He might not be up on everything, but he could still catch Hermione in a lie.

"That's good, kitten," he replied. "Now, I can't tell you what to do, but . . . take it slow. It can be hard to maintain a relationship when the ages are so far apart. He's not a boy, Hermione. You have to be sure this is what you want and will probably have to work to make it work. Your mother and I had a lot of ups and downs when we first began dating. A lot of adjustments to make. We each had to make concessions."

Hermione smiled up at her father.

"But it worked out, didn't it, dad?" she said to him.

John Granger looked over at his wife, who was talking to Snape as they danced.

"Yes. Yes, it did, kitten. We've been very happy together," he replied.

"Hopefully, we will be too, dad. Thank you for not blowing up," Hermione said to him.

John rolled his eyes.

"Like that would have helped anything," he said resignedly. "But now, I know how your grandfather felt."

"Oh dad," Hermione said, rising to her tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek. He gave her a rather sad smile, and they continued to dance.

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Jean and Snape danced around the floor, the Muggle looking at him quizzically. The wizard noticed immediately.

"You and your daughter share the same facial expressions, Mrs. Granger. Is there something you wish to ask me?" he asked her silkily, spinning her and giving her a little dip that made her titter before drawing her back up.

"Actually, no. There's something I want to tell you," Jean replied, looking at him soberly.

"By all means, continue," Snape said, an eyebrow arched.

"Treat her well, Professor," Jean told him, "and if it doesn't seem possible for it to work out, let her go quickly and cleanly. First loves can be painful for a young woman. And to fall in love with an older man, then lose him, can be devastating. But, I know what she feels. I was the same way for John."

Snape studied the Muggle.

"If it is meant for us to be together, Mrs. Granger, be assured no man will ever treat a woman better than I will treat your daughter. She is a jewel among women and I've waited many years to find someone like her," he said sincerely. "I only hope that she will accept me. I'm not the most handsome man in the world. There are younger, more attractive wizards at every turn."

Jean smiled at him.

"It takes more than looks to keep a heart, Mr. Snape. Looks might snag one, but there is little to keep one once the novelty is gone. There are other aspects much more alluring and permanent, other connections that last a lifetime long after the beauty fades. Connections based on respect, concern, honesty and communication. I believe you have a one-up on this, Mr. Snape. Hermione obviously sees more to you than your looks, although . . . they aren't too bad as far as I can see. Your face has character. I think my grandchildren will be passable, if there are indeed grandchildren and your motives are honorable."

Snape nodded.

"They are, Mrs. Granger, I assure you."

"Good," she said. "Now, one more turn around the floor? I like that dip."

"Of course," Snape replied, a slight smile on his pale face as they danced away into the crowd.

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A/N: Siiiigh I just couldn't let things go terribly for them, not after all they've gone through to keep things above board and proper. I think the Grangers having a May/December relationship of their own helped them to be understanding concerning Hermione and Snape. It's better to have a blessing than a curse. I might have gone a bit fluffy here, but . . . it is a pretty fluffy story overall. Lol. I'm a honeybun. Anyway, thanks for reading.