Chapter 1: The Winter Ball

The Great Hall was decorated ornately, with mistletoe, snowflakes, evergreens, illusions of snowfall, and snowmen that danced across the floor between the students. Hermione stepped into the room gracefully, in awe of the winter wonderland that had been created around her. Her hair tied back into a thick braid and clad in a velvety green dress, she smiled at herself. She knew tonight would be the night. Eyes darting around, she wove and darted through the throngs of people. Searching for one face. His face.

And there he was, standing in the corner. Arms crossed, a scowl on his face, he leaned against the wall as he scanned the room lazily, obviously not having attended the Winter Ball by choice. Hermione smiled to herself as she danced over to him, pausing as she neared him. Was this such a good idea after all? Probably not. Was she going to do it anyway? Of course. I promised myself I would. I've been avoiding this too long. She stepped forward warily, a nervous smile accompanying her as she went.

Then she was there, in front of him. As she looked up into his eyes… His eyes. They were so much more beautiful up close. As she looked up into the eyes of Professor Severus Snape, she blushed and trembled as she took a moment to reassure herself again. He looked down at her, one eyebrow cocked.

"Hello, Professor."

"Miss Granger."

"How's your night been?" At this, he snorted. As if it weren't obvious how much he disliked having to be here. She continued, "I do love the snowmen." She gestured to the pudgy snowpeople that wandered the room. He sniffed loudly. Hermione's resolve began to fail. No. I promised myself. I'm already here. I'm doing it. I'm going to ask.

Hermione stood up as straight as she could and smiled widely. "Would you like a dance, Professor?"

Professor Snape was in shock. Not once had he had been asked to dance at one of these events, with the sole exception of Minerva McGonagall, who obviously had felt bad for his having to attend. And especially, he had never been asked by a student. His thoughts raced as he tried to come up with a reason she may have asked him. The princess of Gryffindor, asking the greasy bat of the dungeons to dance? It must be a prank. How dare she?

Snape growled. "I suggest you find someone else to bother, or perhaps go snog Weasley. I imagine even something as vile as that would be a better use of your time."

Hermione frowned, disappointed. "If I thought there was a better use for my time, I wouldn't have asked. Professor Snape, will you dance with me?" This time she extended her hand toward him.

Snape eyed her hand warily before glancing up and making eye contact with Minerva, who was suddenly standing just a bit behind Hermione and looking a bit too happy. Oh, no. Here we go. Minerva grinned at him, grinned at Hermione, winked at him, and nodded vigorously before giving him a pointed look that obviously meant that his hands were tied. Professor Snape was about to dance with Miss Hermione Granger.

Defeated, Snape stepped forward and offered his arm to Hermione. Silently, dress and robes sweeping behind them, they stepped onto the dance floor. Hermione turned towards him, and suddenly immense anxiety flooded through her. What if I mess up? What if I step on his foot and hurt him and he hates me forever? Oh, stop being ridiculous Hermione, this is what you want. Stay calm, and show him why he should want you. You want him rather a lot, after all. Calm down. She breathed slowly as Snape begrudgingly wrapped his arms around her, and in his arms her nervousness melted away. She stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. Gods, his chest is firm. If only he wasn't wearing so much clothing. And then she blushed cherry red. I'm in the arms of my teacher and I'm thinking about undressing him. Get it together, Hermione! Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to think about anything other than the man she was so close to, but it was too late. He had noticed her blush.

"Something on your mind, Miss Granger?"

"N-no Professor. I was just thinking about…" He looked at her interestedly.

"About?"

"Nothing." She blushed again.

"I see."

She sighed, disappointed in her own answers. Why does he make me so nervous?

At the same time, Snape was lost in his own thoughts. Why did she seem so comfortable in his arms? Touching him? The greasy bat of the dungeons was holding Hermione Granger and she seemed comfortable with it. His eyebrows furrowed. And that blush… what could that mean? As the dance went on, Professor Snape came to realize that he, too was enjoying this. This is wrong. I'm dancing with a student and I'm enjoying this. At that moment, Minerva passed by again, looking smug. Snape thought for a moment. If Minerva is pleased by this dance, perhaps there isn't so much wrong with this…

And then her head was on his chest. What's happening? Why does this feel so good? Why does this feel so right? This can't be right. Snape stood straight and gently pushed Hermione away.

"Good night, Miss Granger," he said. With a billow of black fabric, he was gone.