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The New Life	By : lilith395 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 14592 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
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Getting dressed

I know I’m going to regret this, but I’m not showing up at the manor with her looking the way she does. I’m just not. She looks as though she’s been traipsing around the wilderness for a week. Oh wait, she has been.

I rummage through my potions supply down in the basement, looking for something I haven’t searched for in years. The girl is standing halfway on the stairs, regarding me with a wary look on her face.

“Where is that bloody bottle?” I mutter out loud, sorting through rows and rows of bottles and vials. Draught of the sleeping dead, ancient polyjuice, which I really should throw out. The only thing that concoction might still turn you into is a member of the inferi. Dreamless sleep, hangover potions, some simple headache potions, and yet, not what I’m looking for.

“Merlin, Bella, if I didn’t know you’re dead, I would’ve thought you moved it again.” I whisper into the shelves, but judging by the gasp from the young woman behind me, she heard. Fine, I don’t care.

Ingredients, more ingredients, some pickled animals, just for ambiance… Ah, there it is.

With a flick of my wand I pull the small step-stool towards me and get the bottle from the highest shelf I have. Of course. It is still a habit for me to place the stuff somewhere where no one would look for it. It is something Bellatrix taught me, mostly because if anyone ever found out her beautiful hair came out of my cauldron, she would’ve killed me, that is, before Azkaban, after Azkaban she didn’t care much what she looked like. But in Hogwarts, Bellatrix was the ultimate girl.

I turn, step off the stool and proceed towards the stairs, flicking my wand idly at the stool to move it back into its corner while moving. Halfway up the stairs I come face to face with Granger, who still regards me with wide eyes, probably expecting me to poison her.

“Up” I bite out, and bless the little brat, she obeys without a sound.

I move through the house blindly, I know where I have to go and trust my feet to carry me there without me having to steer them. I go over the things I need to do in my head. Make her presentable. How? Clothing, posture, jewelry, hair. I hope with all my heart the contents of the small glass bottle I’m holding will do the trick, or I’m just better off leaving her here. No, not here. Not near my priceless book collection she will probably try to get her hands on if she ever sees it. I don’t need the antique pages all smudged by her potion-stained little fingers. Yes, I’m a hypocrite, and no, I can’t bring myself to care.

Looking over my shoulder, I find she is still following like a good little girl. For a moment, I wonder whether it’s just me or if she has lost that defiant streak altogether. I realize I hope she hasn’t. She was a hell of a lot more interesting when she actually talked back at everyone.

I halt in front of the huge armoire on the first floor landing, getting a few towels out of one of the drawers. Should be enough I think. Stalking into the guest bathroom, I look through the bottles in the medicine cabinet above the sink, pick one and stalk back out. Granger moves aside to let me pass, and in the glimpse I get of her face I can practically see the curiosity radiating off her in waves. So she isn’t being obedient like I thought, she’s just humoring me to find out what it is I’m doing. Well, I don’t really mind, as long as she does what she’s told.

Up another flight of stairs and, with one arm loaded with things she’ll need and the other hand on the door, I freeze. Is this a good idea? No, it’s not. Is it worth it? Merlin, I hope it is. I open the door to my bedroom and wave her inside.

While I busy myself in my bathroom, drawing a bath, which is why I’m letting her use it, the guest bathroom doesn’t have one, placing the bottles in the order she has to use them, she is still in my bedroom, probably ogling the few books, merely two cases, I have in there. Or maybe the room itself. I know what the majority of the world thinks about me, that I’m the ultimate Slytherin, expecting me to sleep under the house crest even away from Hogwarts, or maybe because I wear only black, that everything in my room is painted to resemble some dark cave, but in actuality, it’s mostly earth colors in there. Dark browns, deep forest greens, all of my furniture heavy oak structures, and with two huge bay windows, both with a seat and some beige colored pillows. I have told those few people who have seen it that that’s because Narcissa decorated, but to be entirely truthful, I love it.

One last glance to see if I’ve forgotten anything, I walk back through the door, and wave the girl inside the bathroom.

“Take a bath, the bottle over there is shampoo, the one next to it the conditioner. When you’re done, use a towel to dry your hair, if you use magic, I’ll most likely throttle you.”

There. Couldn’t be much clearer could I?

“But if I do, it’ll probably explode” she says. I sigh.

“Do you question my skill as a potions master?”

Her eyes go wide. “Never” She breathes.

“Then do as I say”

With that, I leave her, slamming the door closed behind me.

That takes care of the stains on her hands, and the hair. Now for the outfit. And I know exactly who to call. Smirking, I make my way over to the fireplace to call the hostess of the night. Knowing her, she’ll be dressing half of her guests anyway. One more wouldn’t hurt her.

An hour later I’m looking in the mirror, making a few last adjustments to my dress robes. In the guest bedroom. Narcissa kicked me out of my own bedroom after shoving the robes into my hands and shooed me down the stairs. Honestly, this is exactly why I never married. If the wife of my friend takes over my home, I am afraid what an actual wife of my own would do. That, and the whole spy, Lily, dying thing of course.

The robes I´m wearing are, thankfully, my own, black, a lot of buttons. I´m glad about that. After all the times Narcissa has tried to order me into something silver or green, the black is a welcome change. The embroidering on the cuffs and around the buttons are a very dark gray, barely noticeable, but if someone does, they´ll see I haven´t lost touch with my house entirely. The coiling snakes around the buttons are detailed, and the components from the Prince family crest around my cuffs, a snake, a cross and an intricate crown, are only there to see for people who know what to look for.

I tie my hair, soft and shining from the lack of steaming cauldrons this last week, back with a silk, gray ribbon, as instructed by Narcissa, which usually means I´m going to be expected to show up as a host. Which also means I´m dreading this evening even more. Standing beside Narcissa and Lucius attracts even more unwanted attention.

I place my wand in the special black leather wrist-sheath, a gift from Lucius on my last birthday, and pull my cuffs straight. One last inspection tells me this is as good as it’s going to get.

Making my way onto the landing, I can hear a heated argument from upstairs. I can’t quite make out the words, but it sounds as though there’s a war going on right above my head. I shrug, not my problem. Such a shame they make it my problem about two steps down the stairs.

“Severus!”

Narcissa comes traipsing down the stairs in the gorgeous ball-gown she’s already wearing, complete perfection, and yet, with a look of absolute distaste on her beautiful face. Uh-oh. Distaste on Narcissa Malfoy-Black usually means she is about to murder someone.

I raise one eyebrow, turn around and follow her up the stairs. What has the stupid girl down now? Before I can open the door, Narcissa sighs and shakes her head.

“I need to get back, but everything’s laid out for her on the bed. She’s impossible, Severus. Truly impossible.”

One hug, and she’s gone back down the stairs to floo back to the manor, leaving me still with my hand on the door, listening to the quiet ranting from inside. Pushing it open just the smallest bit, I can see Granger pacing the length of the room, muttering to herself and wearing nothing but a towel. She hasn’t even tried on the dress Narcissa brought her.

It’s the anger flaring deep inside of me which has me pushing into the room regardless of her state of undress. For a moment I listen to her speak.

“Me, wearing a dress which belongs to that bitch! Never! Going to Malfoy freaking Manor for a party? Hell no! I’m not doing it, just not doing it. And definitely not in an outfit designed for the wicked witch of the whatever. Be careful not to get it wet, it might bloody well melt!”

“What, pray tell, are you talking about?”

At the sound of my voice she whirls around, her still wet hair slapping against her bare shoulder, her arm shooting up to hold the towel in place. The look of pure fury on her face makes me pause just out of arms reach. The last woman to look at me like that scratched my arm hard enough to leave scars.

“Look at that dress!” Granger shrieks, pointing at the dress on the bed for a moment, before realizing she let go of the towel and clasping both her arms around her more firmly.

I look and immediately I understand the problem. Narcissa must’ve told her who the dress belonged to. Big mistake. But she’ll just have to get over it.

“What’s wrong with the dress?”

She starts to pace again, in a circle to avoid me standing in the middle of the room.

“Do you know who’s it is?!”

“Yes” I simply state, unceremoniously dropping myself in an armchair to watch her stalk across the room. “I daresay it’s a shame she never got to wear it. It would’ve looked lovely on her.”

For just a moment, Granger stops and shoots a glare my way, before moving along her path.

“How can you say that? The woman was a lunatic.”

I sigh. Sometimes I forget that nowadays people remember the beautiful, brilliant Bellatrix Black only as how she was after Azkaban. After the Longbottoms, after she had gone crazy. I remember what she was like in school. So does Narcissa.

“I hope you didn’t tell Narcissa that?” I ask, though I know it’s an idle hope. My suspicions are conformed when the look of horror crosses Hermione’s face. She freezes, and her shoulders slump slightly, bowing her head.

“I did” she whispers. “I just told the woman who came here to help me that her sister was a lunatic and I would rather fling myself off the astronomy tower than look like the raving bitch she was.” She drops herself onto the bed, her head in her hands. And apparently, the towel forgotten. I wonder how long it will stay in place. “I can’t believe I said that”

“I agree, that might’ve been a little much.” I say lightly, my eyes trained on the unraveling corner of the towel just behind her arm. If she sits absolutely still, I’m giving it half a minute to drop.

“And she’s your friend!” Hermione gasps. “I just insulted your friend, didn’t I?”

“That you did” another half inch…

She groans, and my eyes move back to her face, eyebrows knitting together.

“Why do I have to go to Malfoy Manor? Why are you making me do this? And why in the name of all that is holy do you want me to wear that dress?”

It’s the fear in her eyes which tells me I can’t ignore it any longer.

“Okay, you really want to know?”

She nods, her head rising from her hands and, just in time, grasping the towel around her once more.

“I want you to go because I have to go. It’s terribly selfish, and trust me when I tell you I have no real desire to go either. But I also know that the blasted ministry functions are even worse. Which means I go to the manor for an hour or two, show my face, get bothered by a few people I do not know and have no intention of ever knowing, and leave. That’s my Christmas. Every year.

You assured me you cancelled your plans for the holiday to come with me on this trip. I tried to get out of it but Lucius won’t let me. It’s Christmas eve. You’re not going stay here alone, ever, so you’ll have to come with me. Simple really.”

I shrug. “As for the dress, Narcissa picked it out. It’s quite lovely and she assured me it goes with your complexion or something of that sort. She said that then, at least, someone would wear it like it’s meant to be worn.”

She frowns. “Like it’s meant to be worn?”

I shrug again. “I don’t know, neither do I care to know what in Merlin’s name she was talking about. Probably something about the hair. You have the same hair as Andromeda, which is basically Bella dyed brown.”

I can’t suppress the small smile when thinking about the Black sisters. Narcissa was always so different from her two elder sisters there were speculations about her parentage. Until you noticed the girls’ eyes. There were no doubts after you noticed their eyes.

“But if I leave my hair down you won’t be able to see half the dress”

I look her over, carefully, and think of something.

“Have you even looked in a mirror since stepping out of the bath?”

She shakes her head. Okay, I can do this. At least, I hope I can.

I push myself out of the chair and pull her to her feet by her arm, careful to grasp the arm not holding the towel. I pick up the underwear Narcissa picked out for her off the bed and shove it, and the dress into her arms, move her towards the bathroom door and shove her inside. She stands close enough for me to bend down and whisper in her ear in a conspiring tone.

“Just wear the dress, and we’ll go to the ball. Do not worry about the manor. Bella is dead, Hermione. Nothing there will hurt you, I’ll make sure of that.”

I straighten back up and before I close the door, I tell her to get dressed and hurry the bloody hell up. She needs a world of charms and glamours to look presentable.

A/N: thanks for reading, please review
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The New Life