One Wild Night

Disclaimer:  all I own in this fic is severus's red shirt lolol!!

AN:  everyone needs a lil' fluff in their lives…  just heard the song for the first time, the word 'potion' stuck out to me, and you guys know how it is….. J  bear with me.  Should be a three chpt fic.  Lil' ADHD person here had issues w/ finishing her projects….

           Why oh WHY does Dumbledore insist upon these banal attempts at faculty/student intermingling?  The children will graduate in three days, and most will never set foot on Hogwarts property again.  And even if they did, they never will come to visit me, so what's the point of being chummy now?

           And what to wear?  Dumbledore insisted that the professors and students dress in their finest.  Which I've never understood.  Doesn't the phrase go "it's the first impression that counts the most"?  Being "spiffy" on this night of all nights would not change his mind about any of his students.  ANY OF THEM.  Not even the Slytherins, and DEFINTELY Hufflepuffs.  Gods those Hufflepuffs were irritating!  So, should it be the black blouse, black trousers, and black boots?  Or maybe spice it up a bit with white blouse, black trousers, and black boots?

           And the forced bonding that is teacher/student dancing!!!!!  I, of course, can dance effortlessly for hours on end, and I can tell you, what those students do out there is NOT dancing.  More like having sex with your clothes on…  Dancing at the Manor was nothing like this.  Mum always taught me the stylings of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, but these children… and yes, I shall always think of them as children, even if they're off fucking each other on the dance floor…  yes these children learned to dance from the pages of "The Joy of Sex."

           Shut up, you sound like some jealous teenager that has just walked in on Peter Pettigrew snogging your girlfriend.  Wait, that was me… twenty-two years ago.

           And of course, that happened the night of a dance.

           MY HATRED OF DANCES HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THAT!!

           Just my hatred of Peter Pettigrew….

           Onto lighter thoughts, m'boy.  We can do it.

           Are there any good points about this night?

           Well, Hermione will probably be in a wonderfully skimpy Muggle dress, revealing those wonderfully firm breasts, slim waist, slightly-rounded hips…

           Hermione?!!!  Miss Granger's more like it.

           Wait…

           Was I just thinking about Hermio..MISS GRANGER???

           No, no, I couldn't have been.  A student.  A STUDENT FOR GODS' SAKE!!!

           No, what would be better would be Hermione minus said dress…

           Severus, you know better than that!  Remember what happened the last time you obsessed over a woman?  Lucius Malfoy nearly turned you into Severus the Amazing Bouncing Ferret…

           No student would feel anything for me.

           Hades, no WOMAN would feel anything for me.

           Not with this horrible reminder of the old days on my arm.

           Though it's a great topic for conversation in Muggle bars.

           "So stranger, where'd you get that wicked tattoo?"

           "Well, it was at this great little tattoo parlor called "Voldemort's."  A man with snake eyes and a scaly face stabbed it into me with his long fanglike incisors."

           At which point I lose any chance with any woman in the bar.

           Sarcasm doesn't always pay off.

           Hermione is saracastic.

           STOP THINKING ABOUT HERMIONE!!

           STOP CALLING HER HERMIONE!

[Meanwhile, in another part of the castle]

           "Your love is like baaaad medicine/

           Bad medicine is what I need."

           "Oh for gods' sake, Hermione, will you PLEASE turn off that horrible Muggle music."

           "It is not horrible Muggle music, Ginny.  It is JON BON JOVI, and don't you forget it.  Just LOOK at this picture of him."

           "Hmmm, looks to me like Lucius Malfoy with a perm."

           "You know," said Hermione grinning, "sometimes I really don't like you, Gin.  Especially that fixation with a certain Malfoy…"

           Before she could even think about what she was going to say, Ginny blurted out, "Do you think he'll be here tonight???"  Ginny then turned redder than her hair…  Ah, the famed Weasley blush was making her looked like a cooked Maine lobster.

           Hermione pictured a Malfoy/Weasley child…  angular white face, evil countenance, all ruined by fiery red hair.  How can you be evil with Weasley hair?  It's just too funny.  Yes, some shades of red could be found on the most evil of people, but definitely not Weasley red.

           Ginny could see this all playing on Hermione's face.  All she could manage was two words:  "Shut it!!"  Ginny stormed out of the room, but was only made to return by Hermione's pleadings.  "Ginny, if you don't come in here and do something to my hair I'll die!!"

           So Ginny returned to the head girl's room, pulling out her wand, and muttered her best hair softening and straightening charms.  Hermione's untamed hair straightened nearly instantly, lengthening by several inches.  Ginny continued her swishing, flicking, and muttering, and Hermione's hair curled softly on the ends.  Ginny then pulled half of Hermione's hair back into a lovely pin, curls cascading down her back.  With a few more charms, babies' breath interwove with the curls.  Finally, Ginny applied makeup to Hermione beautiful face by hand, knowing that she could do a much better job by hand than she ever could by charm.

           "Now it's time to put on that lovely dress!"  Hermione unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged it off quickly.  She went to the closet, and pulled out the dress that Harry had bought her for Christmas.  Inside the box had been a note stating, "I figure if this doesn't help turn the greasy git's eye, NOTHING will."  Obviously, Harry still hated Snape as much as ever, but he did love Hermione more, therefore he was willing to do whatever made her happy.

           So, out of his love of Hermione, and also his slightly raging hormones, he had brought her a black dress a lá Jennifer Lopez.  Slit down to nearly her belly button, it accented her curves and valley's perfectly.  Harry had to hold himself back from fucking her instantly.  Not that he loved her.  She was his best friend, so that was out of the question.  But she did look phenomenal in it, and he knew that Ginny could make her look even better.

           As much as he was turned on by her dress, or lack thereof, he had no idea what he had done by the simple act of buying Hermione said dress.  Not only was the dress black, but it revealed way too much of what Snape wanted.  Wonderful for Hermione, not so wonderful for Snape.

           Hermione slipped on the dress carefully.  It fit her better than she could have imagined.  It was slightly frightening how well Harry knew her proportions.

           She slipped on the dress sandals that came with the dress.  Even then, she was still only slightly above 5'2'', much smaller than Snape's 6'1''.  And if he wore those classic boots of his, he'd be a good 6'3'', which could make things difficult.  But this was Hermione Granger, and she loved nothing more than a challenge.

           9 o'clock, it was time to go downstairs.  She met Harry and Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room, and they made their way down to the Great Hall.

[Back to the Dungeons]

           9'o'clock, Sev.  It's time to go upstairs…  If only I didn't have to face her.

[…]

           Severus and Hermione entered the Main Hall at the same time.  The student body gasped as they entered from opposite ends of the Hall, half over Hermione's loveliness, and the other half at Snape's attire.  Snape had dug through his closet trying to find him something original, and had decided to don a blood-red blouse, cut in a Manchurian style with small buttons descending from Adam's Apple down into his trousers.  His jet black trousers were loose enough to allow for any type of dancing, but tight enough to highlight every deliciously gorgeous part of his lower anatomy.  His black shoes were as shiny as his hair normally was.  But tonight, the greatest difference was Snape's hair.  Obviously washed for once, it was pulled back in a ponytail low on his long neck.  A few strands had already pulled loose and framed his face, which actually had a slight flush to it.

           The cause for Snape's (ahem) "flush" was obvious:  as he and Hermione entered the room, their eyes had locked.  Hermione continued to boldly stare him in the eye, but he couldn't help it.  His eyes began to fall slowly, tracing her neck, the line of her shoulder, then farther down to her cleavage and barely shielded breasts, then farther down still.  He knew he was undressing her slowly with his eyes, but he didn't care.  If she had been in front of him, he would not be able to help but throw her to the floor of the Great Hall and shag her senseless.  Realizing that she knew exactly what was going through his mind, he dragged his eyes back to hers.  She blinked once, flicked her right eyebrow upward, and immediately turned to Harry and drew him to the dance floor.  The crowd looked slightly mortified, but as it was a rather small school, it wasn't anything more than they expected.  The tension between Snape and Hermione had grown to such levels in the last year that Galleons had been bet as to the day of the consummation of the aforementioned tension.  Several Slytherins and a few Gryffindors, including Denis Creevey, had come up to Snape with various types of condoms, to which he merely glared and hissed, "If you would study at all, you would know that those were not necessary in the wizarding world."

           As Hermione lead Harry to the dance floor, she whispered to him, " You better make this good for me, Harry."  Harry just nodded, knowing what he had to do.  Not that he minded.  Again, his hormone levels were peaking, so the last thing he'd mind at the time would be a beautiful girl grinding up against his hardening cock.  He looked over to Snape during the dance.  Snape was standing in the corner, trying to hide behind the bust of Salazar Slytherin.  Harry gave him grin:  it was wonderful to be rubbing this in Snape's face, plus he knew it would help Hermione out.  Getting Snape mad was the easiest way to get him to do something.  If Snape knew that  people thought he wouldn't do something, that would be the driving force TO get Snape to do something.  Snape turned an odd shade of purple, odd only because it was on HIM, and turned to talk to Professor McGonagall who merely began laughing at him and walked off to dance with Professor Dumbledore.  A slow song had just come on, and Hermione was now dancing with Ron.  They were close, but not too close.  Ron looked quite embarrassed, as if he had never danced with such a beautiful woman before.  Either that or he was thinking that Hermione was nearly his sister, and that this could be Ginny he was dancing with, something he didn't want to even picture.

           Snape was smoldering.  Hermione kept stealing glances across the hall at Snape.  Grinning to herself, she knew it was all working.  She slipped across the room to the disc jockey's table, and whispered into his ear, leaning in such a way as to reveal quite a bit of her left breast.  The disc jockey took an eyeful, and then willingly acquiesced to her wish.

           Hermione sauntered across the dance floor towards Severus Snape, who if it hadn't been for his students and peers standing nearby would be quaking.  Hermione placed her small hand on his shoulder, winked, slid her hand slowly down his arm, smiling at the way he flinched at her touch, knowing he was enjoying every moment of it.  She clasped his hand, and drew him across the dance floor.

           Poor Severus was having a horrible Morality Play screaming in his head.  "This is a mistake!  This is wrong!  She's a student!!!"

           "She's also drop dead gorgeous.  Where in Hades did she get the money for that dress!"

           "Why am I following her?"

           "Why is she putting me in a position where I have to follow her."

           "Why does she WANT me to follow her!!"

           "SHE'S A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!!  BEAUTIFUL WOMEN DON'T WANT ME!!!"

           "… … … no woman wants me… … …"

           But it was too late for Severus.  He was sunk.  And his only hope was this girl, leading him to the center of the dance floor.

           And, as he was afraid would happen, all eyes in the room were on him.  Including Dumbledore's.  Dumbledore's eyes twinkled like Santa's on Christmas.  The boy Dumbledore had taken under his wing was finally in love again, and Albus was glad.  If anyone needed someone, it was Severus.  Since Lily he had been as lost as a man thrown overboard with out a life preserver.  Hermione seemed to be the only person that could pull him out of it.  And Dumbledore was glad.  Severus needed someone as brilliant as himself to be with, and Hermione was the person closest to that mark.  And having that all-knowing air on his side, Dumbledore knew exactly what song Hermione had requested.  The fact that she had been blaring all over Gryffindor Tower earlier had nothing to do with his premonition.  His eyes glowed.  This was Severus' night, at last.  The boy deserved it.  All those years of Voldemort, the Order, and Hogwarts had taken their toll on Severus.  He needed something new, something vibrantly alive for once, not the death he had seen for eighteen years.

           Albus gave Severus a nod, which Severus knew to be his "I approve" nod.  Severus was taken aback.  He had known that no one would approve of any relationship between him and this beauty smiling up at him.  Why should they?  It was your classic case of Beauty and the Beast, only the Beast wasn't JUST bad looking.  He was crass, sarcastic, and hurtful.  There would be no reason in the world for her to be drawn to him, and frankly he was frightened that she seemed to be.  What did it say of her that she would want to be with such a man?

           Now what Severus DIDN'T know was that half of why Harry's Occlumency classes hadn't been successful was because Hermione was studying the art of Legilmency.  It may have been wrong of Hermione, but she knew that in his weakened state, Harry would be an easy target for her prying brain.  It had worked.  She had become quite good at the craft, working up from Harry to Ron to Neville, and now to the Legilmency master himself.  In his weakened mental state, he didn't even notice her mind probing around in his.  Hermione smiled even more, "He may not notice any 'probing' now, but I believe he will later on tonight."

           Severus just gawked at her.  He couldn't help it.  Severus never allowed himself to do anything remotely CLOSE to gawking, but he couldn't help it.  The full implications of this night were crashing down on him.  The years of avoiding this night were over.  The last year had been hell on him:  treating her like shit to try to make her go away, then feeling wretched about his behavior; giving her detention when she really didn't deserve it, just so he could be with her; rejecting her numerous times during said detentions; hearing her cry as he bellowed at her to remove herself from his classroom.  He loved her, and he had hated himself for it.  He now hated himself more for pushing her away.  It was too late.  She would never love him now.  This was all just an act, to humiliate him once and for all in front of the entire student/faculty body.  No, this wasn't going to happen.

           Since the beginning of time, man has had two reactions to stressful situations, evolving in us during our early primate days as a coping mechanism with being eaten by mammals with long, pointy teeth.  Fight or flight.  Severus had not the will to fight for what he wanted, so he opted for flight.  He turned on his heel, pointed straight for the nearest exit.  But he had waited to long to leave.  The music began, Hermione grabbed his arm, whipping him around towards her.  The impact of his chest hitting her as he turned was such that he nearly knocked her down.  It had been the motion she had needed to get him within her grasp, and she took full advantage of it.  Placing her hands on his hips, she drew them towards her own, rocking them against her with the music.

           And what was that music?  Nothing other than Jon Bon Jovi's "Bad Medicine."

           But why choose this song?  Of all songs to choose?  Not your typical dance song, and certainly not the best Bon Jovi song ever written, but Hermione had her reasons.

           "I mean," Hermione thought, "'Love Potion No. 9' obviously would not have been a good choice, use of the word 'potion' aside."