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The New Life	By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14595 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Harry Potter and I don't earn anything from these stories.

Chapter List
- 9
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- 11
A/N: Oh my... It's almost Christmas and I am going through my days feeling like the Grinch, Scrooge and a freaking house-elf all at once, for I have now reached the age to have the honor of making Christmas diner bestowed upon me. Needless to say, I am freaking out. I truly am. So that's why, well, that, and the fact I am a little ahead of schedule, I am posting part one of our lovely couple's Christmas a week early. Hope you guys don't mind. I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who's rated this story and to Claireena, thank you so much for your wonderful review, though I have to stress the point that I do not condone addictions, nor will I be seen as an enabler.... oh, who am I kidding? Here's your fix love, enjoy it.. XD

A Muggle Christmas

I stand in front of my dresser, trying to decide what to wear. It bothers me a little. I never had this problem before. On any other day I just pull something out of a drawer and be done with it. But no such luck tonight.

As I rifle through my shirts, all three of them, I wish I could’ve just worn my robes. Why did I agree to have this ball again? I detest themes. And I should’ve known I couldn’t get out of it either. I’m the bloody headmaster, I have to attend my own parties. I scowl at my jeans. Don’t I have a set of leather pants somewhere? At least I could shock some people. No, I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But I could. I toy with the idea for a few moments before dismissing it. I might be a bastard, but I know when I look good. And I look good in leather. The last thing I need is having googly-eyed seventh-years after me all night. I just want to be left alone. I have already resigned myself to a night of terror, but I’ll find some isolated table somewhere to sit it out. I hope.

I pick up some faded jeans. I have come to understand it’s in fashion, though I have to admit these are just faded with age. I’m quite proud they still fit me. I must’ve had them for at least ten years now. I toss them on the bed.

Fine, and now for a shirt. T-shirt? Hell no. I hate t-shirts. A dress-shirt then? Fine. I have one green one and a black one. I go for the black. Why not?

With a feeling of regret I hang the green one back on its hanger. My mind starts to wander to the only time I have worn it, but I quickly dismiss the memory. What’s left of it, anyway. In jeans, the evidence of how I enjoyed that night would be painfully obvious. It’s really something I can’t use right now. Though I would still like to know who the girl was. I shrug at my mirror image, it shrugs back at me. Neither of us knows, and we’ll probably never know.

I survey my shoes, and think a little on the theme. A muggle Christmas, the witch had called it. Great. Of course I had known, the moment I said yes weeks ago, it would be a mistake. And hell, it has been. The tiny thing has been racing through the halls as though she is still a student, transfiguring the torches into electric lamps. I have no idea how she got them to work, and I don’t really care. They work, they make me look even paler than I already am, and they are hell on my eyes. Just great.

And the little chit has spent two days removing the enchantments on the ceiling in the Great Hall. To be fair, the second day was mostly my fault. I made her show me she could replace them. I want them back up no more than the day after. I can’t really be bothered to tell her I can replace them. Call me evil, but I like to see her sweat a little.

What she uncovered isn’t a pretty sight though. Apparently no one had ever bothered to re-plaster. Last night’s supper scared the crap out of me, I kept picking bits of ceiling out of my peas. After I sneered at her, she promised me she would fix it, but naturally, I was the one who was up all night to make sure the ceiling didn’t come crashing down. And I gave it a nice new color in the process. Let’s see how she likes green and silver stripes. Anything to sabotage this horrid affair. And I know how to wipe out my signature, she won’t ever be able to prove it was me. Just let some nice little Slytherins take the fall for it. Some of them gladly would.

I takes me ten minutes to get dressed and tie my hair back in one of those elastic bands. The mirror jeers at me, and I wholeheartedly agree. I look like an idiot. The boots I am wearing are mightily uncomfortable, but they are the only muggle boots I own, so they’ll just have to do. No dragon-hide for me tonight. I stalk across my study and open the door. One last glance in the mirror before I close the door behind me. Yup, an idiot. A muggle idiot.

I follow the throng of students making their way down the stairs. They haven’t even noticed me yet. I look them over as they gape at the changes in the halls. The mistletoe doesn’t try to grab you as you walk past. There are cut-outs of stars and shepherds on the walls, but they remain perfectly still. They are just cardboard. Even the Christmas-stall has a small baby Jesus, a Mary and a Joseph. And they are probably plastic. She must’ve bought half of London for all the muggle decorations she has put up.

Some of the muggleborns, mostly the first- and second-years look at ease for the first time since they arrived. This is something they know, and they are delighted. The Slytherins aren’t. I round the corner into the entrance hall and see them standing on the outskirts of the long line of students moving into the Great Hall, scowling at the lot of them. But they aren’t wearing their robes. Apparently attending the party is more important than their own standards.

As I come closer to the Great Hall, the music floats out of the open doors to meet me. It’s some old muggle tune, it’s faintly familiar, but I couldn’t name it to safe my life.

Something shimmers in the doorway, and I recognize the signs of a barrier. My bewilderment over it doesn’t last long. From the other side of the entrance hall, a particularly cocky Slytherin elbows his way through the crowd. The boy, a third-year, never fails to remind me of Draco. He’s wearing his school robes, apparently he fancies himself above the dress code. I smirk as he is flung onto the ground by the barrier, skidding through the laughing line of students jumping out of his way, and he halts against the wall right next to where I’m standing. I must congratulate miss Granger on her marvelous wards. The boy sits on the floor, cursing loudly. I don’t think he has noticed me yet. I cross my arms and loom over him.

“Twenty points from Slytherin for your language I should think.” His head shoots up and he sees me. If I didn’t have a reputation to uphold, I would’ve laughed with the rest of them. He looks absolutely terrified. And a furry sort of brown. As his ears start to lengthen, I realize the wards must’ve started turning him into the virgin Mary’s donkey.

“And another fifty for your blatant disregard of the rules. If you wish to attend the party at all, I suggest you go and change.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but he seems to think better of it as I raise one of my eyebrows. The look never fails. I watch his elongated ears bobbing through the crowd as he scrambles down the corridor and down the stairs into the dungeons. I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again tonight.

I pass the barrier. I don’t want to think of what would’ve happened if I had worn my dragon hide boots. I pause for a moment, looking around the room. The high table has been removed, and against the far wall I can just make out a little stage. I recognize the band as one of the new up and coming wizarding bands, and they don’t look entirely at ease in the muggle clothing. Nor with the fact that they have to play their instruments by hand instead of with magic. I suspect the only reason they’re here at all is because the lead singer, one of the Patil twins, but I have no idea which one, was pressured into doing it by Granger. The girl is looking at the microphone with a look of genuine bewilderment on her pretty face.

The dance floor in front of them lights up in bright colors when danced upon. There is an actual, honest-to-god disco-bal hanging from the high ceiling.

I spot the drinks-table, and I hope to whomever is willing to listen the punch has been spiked. I know I’m going to need it.

“Hello Headmaster” the seventh-year behind the table giggles at me as her boyfriend shifts away from her so quickly I fear he’s going to slide right off the bench on the other side. He doesn’t. Pity.

“Miss Jones” I nod at her while she hands me a cup. I eye the dubious concoction doubtfully, swirling the liquid in the disposable plastic cup. I sniff it carefully and notice the girl across from me blanch. Hmm, let me guess, one part lemonade and three parts Ogden’s? I down the glass and pick up another while turning away from the table.

“Miss Jones?” I say to her over my shoulder.

“Y…yes?” the poor thing stammers.

“Make sure you do not serve this to anyone under the legal age. I would not be pleased.”

Subtitles: I need the alcohol, give me the alcohol. The girl nods at my back as I walk away from her, in search of a good table to get through this night.

The band has started playing. I must admit they sound pretty good, for a bunch of dunderheads. I have by now recognized them all. I have taught them all. Some of the songs I remember, muggle tunes my father and my grandparents used to listen to when I was little. The Patil girl calls them golden oldies. It makes me feel positively ancient.

The throng of students coming in through the door has started to die down, and the most of them are now jumping around on the dance floor. Do they call that dancing? I snort forcefully enough to almost inhale my drink. Note to self: Don’t do that again.

“Thank you for the ceiling” I look up and notice the thing is now red and gold. Blast, so much for my hard work. And my quiet table. Maybe I should’ve disillusioned myself. I feel the young woman take the seat next to me.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” I say as I turn myself back to my drink.

She chuckles. “Well, what do you think?”

I glance her way. She is looking at me with pride on her face. She thinks she’s done a good job. Fine. I hold my glass up for a second.

“I think this stuff isn’t spiked enough. I can still taste the lemonade.”

The comment earns me a giggle. “Yes, I noticed. Threw out the entire bowl.”

My eyebrows shoot up, by the feel of it somewhere into my hairline. Bugger.

“What did you do that for?” I ask with feigned surprise. The witch looks at me, and I smirk. “It’s bearable.”

She smiles and turns to the crowd. We sit together for a few minutes in silence while I finish my drink.

“They do seem to like it, don’t they?” She asks me.

“Yes, they seem to, though I doubt the Slytherins will get over this any time soon.” I answer, waving my hand to indicate a group of pureblood children donning the worst outfits I have ever seen. They obviously don’t have any non-pureblood friends to help them.

She shrugs. “They didn’t have to come.”

True, very true. They didn’t. She turns back to the band and I take the opportunity to look her over. She looks as though she has just come from the library, which doesn’t surprise me one bit. Her skirt is a little shorter than I have ever seen on her, though only by an inch or so. It falls right above her knees. Her white blouse hugs her figure, but not obscenely so. And her make-up and hair are decent enough. The only thing which are not sensible are her shoes. The heels must be impossible to walk on. No wonder she would rather sit next to me than be out and about. I must’ve been staring for she wiggles one of her feet a little.

“Like them? They’re new.” She says. Who cares if they’re new? I don’t.

“I was just wondering how you can possibly walk in those things.”

She places her hand on mine and I frown.

“I can do a lot more than just walk in these heels.” She says, smiling. My mind goes blank, I have no idea what to think. I must’ve looked like an even bigger idiot than I feel.

“I’ll show you” She rises out of her seat and tries to tug me to my feet.

“Dance with me” Ha! I snort and yank my hand out of her grasp.

“No”

She laughs. “Yes”

She must’ve gone insane. I don’t dance, and definitely not with her. Well, I used to dance, I actually used to be quite good at it too, but it wasn’t to this kind of music. I turn my back to her. I refuse. When I glance back over my shoulder, she is gone. At least she can take a hint.

But now she’s gone, and I can’t see her. Her declaration of ‘yes’ worries me a bit, especially with the sudden disappearance. I see her unruly head of hair bob up on the other side of the crowd, near the stage. What in Merlin’s name is she up to?

When the song ends I see her whisper to the singer, and I narrow my eyes. This does not look good for me. The girl on stage frowns at my potions mistress, and nods. Bugger. I have a feeling I am not going to like this.

“And for the next song, we’re going to take it a little slower” the girl shouts through the microphone. I see Granger appear on the edge of the dance floor, one hand held out to me. “And I have a special message to our dear headmaster”

Uh-oh. I glance at Patil, and she grins at me. “Your potions mistress wanted me to tell you to stop being a coward.”

I narrow my eyes at the singer, then at Granger. Behind her I can see Potter trying to make himself invisible from me. He should have taken his blasted cloak. I detest being called a coward. And the insolent boy must’ve told her that. Now, the entire bleeding student body is staring at either me, or Granger. Just bloody great. I huff and push myself away from the table, making my way over towards the dance floor to give that blasted girl a piece of my mind.

And naturally that would be the moment a certain poltergeist decides to make a fuss in the entrance hall. Several screams reach my ears halfway between the table and Granger, and I make a decision. I whirl around, grab Remus who just happens to have kept on dancing as though nothing happened, and with a single bark of command for him to follow, we make our way towards whatever the hell is going on outside. I can’t really decide if I’m annoyed by the interruption, or that I have been, as the saying goes, saved by the bell? Or scream in this case.

thank you for reading! Please review^^
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The New Life