Transfiguration of the Heart

Thank you all so much for your comments! They mean so much.

Chapter 9- Dances With Wolves… and Death Eaters

Hermione turned from side to side, gazing at her profile in the long mirror. She smoothed the elegant silk fabric over her flat abdomen, and over her hips, shifting it slightly. The likelihood of her being able to successfully wear such a gown with enough courage was slim to none. Not now, not ever, would she have the confidence to wear such a garment in public. It felt like nothing more than a very thin nightgown that did no part in concealing her body… what one might wear on a honeymoon night before it was thrown off in the corner of a room. The high slits in her skirt and low neckline only aided in making her feel exceptionally bare to the world.

“Tonks, I can’t,” Hermione whined, crossing her arms over her chest, causing the top curve of her breasts to peak out of the deep v-neck some more. She knew she should have thought twice before allowing her slightly crazier, and much more brazen, ‘sister’ to transfigure her drab black funeral dress into a formidable evening gown.

“Yes you can,” Tonks chuckled, smoothing out her own, slightly odd gown and admiring herself in the mirror. Tonks had brought a gown made of many different, vibrant colors, all patched together, and sexy in the way only she could manage. She almost looked like one of those glamour rockers like David Bowie with her vibrant pink hair and clashing dress covered in glitter and sequins. Hermione could not say she had expected any less from the Metamorphmagus.

But Tonks also apparently needed a sophisticated creative outlet as well, and Hermione was the perfect mannequin for her foray into clothing design.

It was a very beautiful gown of deep red, even with all of it’s baring attributes, and Tonks would have had a successful career in fashion should she have chosen such a career. However, this dress was not for Hermione Granger. She might have been able to pull off the low neck and high slit, but the fabric laying so smoothly against her skin that she could not wear proper undergarments, without it looking tacky, was something entirely different. For a woman who wore jeans and bulky sweaters on her off days, and non-descript robes for others with the main purpose of covering and protecting her body from rather seedy looks from men, it was a big difference.

“Where’s that Gryffindor courage?” Tonks questioned with a short laugh, nudging her ribs.

Hermione glared at her. She had courage, but Tonks had the trademark Gryffindor courage in spades and apparently thought everyone else did as well. “I have to be comfortable to be courageous.”

Tonks rolled her eyes and muttered a simple charm to do away with a loose thread on the side of her own dress. “I highly doubt you were comfortable with all those acts of courageousness you did during the War, but you did them any way.”

“Because I had to, for my friends,” she said. “Harry would have done the same for me. Wearing a dress and fighting a war are completely different things.”

“You’d be surprised just how similar they can be,” Tonks smiled and uttered another charm with her wand pointed at Hermione’s face.

Hermione felt the weight of makeup set on her face and let out a low sigh.

“And think about it this way. You have to do it for Viktor.” Tonks’ eyes twinkled mischievously.

“I already told you what I think of him,” Hermione said, fussing with a renegade tendril that would not stay flattened into her intricate hairdo.

The Metamorphmagus giggled, “Then do it for other attention. Maybe Ron… or one of the other Weasley boys. I’d go for Charlie. Taming dragons is a very sexy thing…”

“Would you please stop it?!” she said, exasperation surfacing.

“Or you could always do it for someone like Snape, but I doubt even has a human bone in his body,” Tonks said softly, shrugging her shoulders.

Hermione froze still for a moment, looking at the woman beside her. Did she know? Was she a Legilimens? Had she seen the memories of last night still fresh in her head? No, Tonks was not a Legilimens. Hermione was sure she would have known that by now, considering the time they had spent together. Maybe she had said or done something that had led Tonks to that conclusion. Was Hermione really so obvious? She may have had a craving for being noticed, but she had least thought she kept some mystery to herself, especially over such a matter as Snape.

Perhaps, though, the thoughts she was having were so strange and something no normal woman should have, that they were just there sitting visible on her sleeve.

But now that she really thought about it, what would he do when he saw her tonight? He had barely been able to tear his eyes away the night before, and that dress was considerably modest compared to this one. Oh Merlin, the notion had not even crossed her mind.

Why the hell did she care? It was Snape, after all.

“Hermione!”

“Huh?” she jumped at the stern voice, looking at her friend.

Tonks gave her a questioning look and then shook her head, laughing. “You seemed like someone had put you under the Imperious for a second there.”

“O-oh,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “Just thinking.”

I think.

“Well, we should head down there,” Tonks said, checking herself one last time in the mirror. “Remus was ready to go when I left a half hour ago. I’m sure he’s getting bored.”

Hermione laughed. “He’s probably used to waiting on you by now.”

“You know, he deserves to wait his entire life for me,” Tonks scoffed. “I waited long enough for him to come around.”

“Too true,” she said and ran her fingers over her bare neck. “I really think this neckline should be higher. I don’t have a necklace to wear on my bare chest.”

Tonks gave her a small smile. “I don’t think you need to worry about that.”

Hermione sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. “You aren’t going to let me change it, are you?”

“Nope.” Tonks shook her head and smiled.

“Thanks,” she rolled her eyes and grabbed her wand. She looked down at herself. “I don’t have any place to put my wand.”

Tonks chuckled, “I doubt anything is going to happen to you tonight, Hermione.”

“But I’m in Malfoy Manor. I rather be prepared, than not prepared,” she said.

“Well, there will be no hiding it under your gown,” Tonks said and held her hand out. “Give it to me.”

Hermione reluctantly let her have it, not knowing what she was going to do with it, but Tonks only smiled and shrunk the wand down with a flick of her own wand. She had never heard that charm before, and in all reality, she thought it impossible to shrink a wand.

Tonks smiled triumphantly at her work, plopped it into Hermione’s small evening bag, closed it, and held it out to her. “There. It’ll be different if you have to use it, but at least you’ll have it with you. Same power, just smaller.”

“I’ll just hope I don’t have to use it,” she said and sighed, looking at the purse in her hands. She really did hate being a girl, and an epitome of one at that, with the way she was made up and outfitted for the evening.

“Don’t look like that,” Tonks laughed. “Embrace your ability to knock men off their feet for one night.”

A fleeting memory of the Yule Ball in her fourth year surfaced, and she smiled. Tonight was almost exactly like it had been then. She had wanted to show off her attributes, and that she was indeed a girl, despite the popular belief of some of her classmates and friends. It had worked well too. But now she had no one to particularly impress. Sure, there was Viktor, but he would still hound after her if she were dressed in a burlap sack. And yes, there was Ron, who was supposed to show up only for the evening festivities and then go back to his home. During the Yule Ball, she wanted to make him regret not asking her first. While he never admitted it, she knew that he did regret it and the ensuing arguments. However, tonight he would most likely show up with his girlfriend and she had no intention of showing Susan up.

A knock interrupted them, and Tonks was the first to reach the door and pull it back to reveal a rather dashing Viktor, dressed in black dress robes, and black bowtie. Tonks glanced back at her, gave her a wink and disappeared quickly through the door and to the left, leaving her alone with a slightly gaping Viktor. The Bulgarian’s suave nature soon replaced the dumbfounded look on his face, and he smiled.

She hated this. She always hated this… the way men stood back and made that leisurely perusal of her body when she was dressed up. It always made her so self-conscious. The few dates she had been on the past year with Muggles, and then the ones before with wizards, made her fully aware that men where men and would do it no matter what. Some were more respectful than others with the way they went about it, but Viktor was certainly not one of those men.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest uncomfortably, covering the skin of her cleavage and looked down at the ground. Before she knew it, Viktor swept into the room and stood before her, lifting her chin with his hand. She met his eyes for a moment, blushing hotly. He smiled brightly and moved his hands to peel away her shield. She let him do it for some reason. With a simple touch, she dropped her hands for him.

Tonks had been right. She was giving Viktor the wrong ideas, even though she had already warned him she did not see him as anything more than a friend. But it was fun… so fun.

“You are beautiful,” he said quietly, his smile never leaving his face, “Herm-own-ninny.”

She could not keep in her chuckled at that, and shook her head, “You don’t look too horrible yourself, Viktor.”

“I am nothing, compared to you,” he said. “But you are missing something.”

“Yeah, about a meter of fabric,” she replied. “And knickers.”

She wanted to take that last comment back, but it was out and Viktor only wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive fashion before laughing at the admission. “I vill pretend I did not hear that, for your sake.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Thank you for your… discretion.”

He laughed and brandished a velvet-covered box from inside his robes. She thought that it was a ring box for a moment, but he also took out his wand and expanded it to it’s full size. “I owled my mother, and asked her to bring these for you from our safes. Vot you are missing are some extravagant jewels.”

“Viktor, you didn’t need to do anything like that,” she said, and met his eyes.

“You said I vould have to try harder to win your heart,” he opened the box and held it out to her to peruse.

She glanced down, finding something she never thought she would see in her life—many diamonds and rubies encrusted in a necklace and earrings set. “You don’t have to bribe me with jewelry.”

“I am not bribing you,” he shook his head. “I am merely wooing you.”

“It takes a great deal more than sparkling stones to woo me, Viktor,” she said quietly.

He held the box out to her and motioned for her to take it. “Oh, I know this. This is only the beginning.”

She accepted the box and removed the earrings first to put them on, and then the necklace. It was a heavy weight around her neck with the size of the jewels, resting on her collarbones, but she would get used to it. Hermione turned to face him, “So?”

“Perfect,” he smiled and kissed her cheek.

“You asked Tonks to make sure my gown was red.”

Viktor nodded slightly and offered his arm to her, “Shall we?”

Hermione smiled and grabbed her purse again, following his lead out of the room. Their descent of the stairs was short-lived, and they were immersed in a sea of people, most of them familiar to her. Actually, she was a little surprised that a few of the people present had shown up to the festivities. Many of Draco’s former Slytherin classmates were there, and each of them, when they caught sight of her, either had to look twice, not believing that she was actually in attendance at Malfoy Manor, or sneer at her. Viktor directed her towards his parents, that she had only met on one other occasion shortly after the War. They spoke amicably enough, complimenting her on her jewelry.

Then Lucius found Viktor and pulled him away to attend to Draco, and Hermione caught a flash of red hair. Unable to control her smile and the happiness flooding her senses, she excused herself and went straight for the small huddling of red hair, to find most of the Weasley family. She was only a little surprised to find them here, considering their previous ties with the Malfoys. The families hated each other, but the Weasleys were purebloods, and Lucius obviously could not deny that. Neither could he ignore the fact that their fortunes had greatly improved when Fred and George went worldwide with their business, and then directly after the war with top Ministry positions and other paying engagements.

Harry had also contributed to this by leaving Molly and Arthur, his only real examples of loving and doting parents, his fortune in the advent of his death.

However, the Weasleys did not let their leap in social standing go to their heads at all. They still lived at the Burrow, but they had made some much needed renovations on the property and extended it out a bit. They no longer needed second-hand clothes, or school supplies. Other than that, the entire family seemed pretty much unaffected by their wealth, and Hermione always found that so refreshing about them.

“Hermione!”

Ginny was the first to notice her, and pull her into a long embrace.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were at Hogwarts,” Ginny said.

“Well, you have to know the right people,” Hermione laughed when she looked at Ron’s stunned face.

“ ‘Mione,” he said, half beside himself as he pulled her close and placed a kiss to her cheek.

He certainly had grown up and had become much more secure of himself, Hermione noted. “Oh, Ron, I’ve missed you so much.”

“You could’ve come to visit,” he replied, smiling.

“I’ve been busy.” It was a blatant lie, but a necessary one. The last thing she needed was to really tell him how bad her life had been the past year, and it getting back to Molly. Molly was the embodiment of the over-protective and ever-doting mother, even now that her children were grown.

His greeting was followed by Molly and Arthur, both commenting on her appearance and nudging Ron to take a look at her. Apparently he and Susan were no longer together.

“So who are you here with?” Ron asked.

“You don’t think that I was invited by myself?”

Ron was silent for a moment, thinking. He then shook his head, “Um, no.”

Hermione nodded ruefully, “I came with Viktor.”

“Vicky?!” he exclaimed. “Haven’t you had enough of him?”

“He’s an exchange professor at Hogwarts, and he invited me,” she replied. “I had nothing better to do, and really, must you revert to that?”

Ron shrugged his shoulders, “I suppose not.”

“Good,” she said wrapped her arm around Ron’s. It had been like this forever between them; bickering seemed to be the only way they could communicate. “Now, let’s go sit down, my feet are already killing me.”

---------------------

Severus’ seat at the ceremony was placed in the front row, next to Narcissa and Lucius. On any normal occasion he would have preferred to blend into the scenery by standing in the back of the room, so he could slip away if need be. Tonight was different, though. He would much rather sit up front so that he could pay attention to the real reason why he was here, and not on the movements or actions of one female who taken a hold of all of his thoughts, and would not let go.

He had come to the determination that he was indeed crazy, never having a moment's respite of thoughts of her, but he did also decide that at least it was a wonderful way to lose one’s mind. Severus was certain that the likelihood of him finding a more intriguing, intelligent and beguiling woman (in her own know-it-all, insufferable ways) to think of while going mad was impossible. Hermione Granger was one witch in a million.

Nonetheless, he had come to some other conclusions. It was very wrong for him to think and feel anything like this with her in mind… he had only been her professor a year ago. There was too vast an age difference. What would she ever see in him if he pursued her like he so wanted? Also considering his Dark background, he knew he should steer clear of her. She surely wanted no part in spending time with him. In the past, he may have been ready with hurtful comments to say to her or filled with malice for her, but not now. He could not hurt her.

Perhaps he had gone soft?

No, no, he had not gone soft. He was still as antisocial and nasty as ever, but he had realized quite suddenly after seeing her descending the stairs with Viktor that evening that he did indeed care for her much more than he had always thought. He had never learned how to show his care for another person appropriately, and had shown her in barbed comments and insults up until now. He figured it was as good a time as any to start learning, though. He had convinced himself that he only cared for her as a father might, or even to the extent of a trusted friend he had fought side-by-side with.

And yet he still found himself inexplicably drawn to her in a most unsettling way.

He had watched her closely the entire evening, dancing with Weasley, and then a few with Viktor before he was called off for other reasons. He had watched her smile and watched her talk animatedly with her old friends, becoming entranced with her all over again. Remus had parted from Tonks for a song and a turn around the dance floor with her, provided by the small string quartet.

He wondered idly what it would be like to have her laughing and smiling around him. Would he ever be able to earn her trust enough to get her to throw her head back and laugh unbidden?

Now, though, she sat alone, nursing a tall flute of gold liquor and watching the revelers around her. That was, of course, until her eyes fell on him. Then she did the unthinkable. She stood slowly, asking Ginny sitting beside her to watch her bag, and then she turned toward him and floated. Yes, floated. Like a ghost roaming the halls of Hogwarts, she moved across the dance floor, carefully maneuvering herself out of the way of the swirling dancers. The red fabric of her gown moved around her body sensuously, pulling at her hips and gathering slightly about her rounded hips.

And when she stopped in front of him, he found himself bewildered. She was purposely seeking him out now, with all the other people she could spend time with here?

“You look like someone stole your puppy,” she said, smiling at him. Now that she was closer, he could make the faint red glow on the apples of her cheeks created froma mixture of makeup and a little bit of alcohol. The rest of her face was painted appropriately for the formal festivities of the evening, but he had to admit he liked her much better without such covering on her face. It was a fake beauty, when she was naturally attractive enough… for him, anyway.

“Why would you care if they had?” he questioned flatly, trying desperately to look away from her.

Hermione shook her head and sighed. “Must you always reply like that? I was trying to make a joke. Don’t you ever laugh?”

“No,” he said.

She stood still for a moment, studying his face before sighing again and crossing her arms over her chest nervously. Unfortunately for her, that action probably did not have the affect she so desired. What had happened was the round curve of her breasts pressed more prominently out of the deep neck of her gown, and made his eyes travel to that spot. Realizing his rather obvious stare, he quickly diverted his eyes up to hers. He may have been a man, and such an action was expected of him, but he would not treat Hermione like any other woman being ogled by another. She was better than that.

Hermione smirked, though, when he glanced back up and met her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and her obviously unbound breasts jiggled slightly into place beneath her gown. Oh Merlin… did she have any clue what she was doing?

Perhaps she did have some semblance of a clue, and it was just the alcohol she had consumed talking to him. Or was she doing this on purpose… on complete purpose because she had been dared by one of her friends to add to their enjoyment of the night by making a fool out of him?

“Then do you dance?”

“Excuse me?” he said, sipping his firewhiskey and nearly spitting it out in a fine mist when he heard her ask that.

She chuckled, “I asked you if you dance. At all the functions we had at Hogwarts, I never once saw you dance.”

“Why is it of such importance that you know?”

“Because I would like to know,” she said. “I thought perhaps you might like to… er… dance with me?”

He was sure the dumbfounded look on his face was enough to let anyone in the room want to know what had caught him so off guard. Nothing every surprised him like that question had. “You want me to dance… with you?”

“That’s what I said, wasn’t it? I’m not speaking a different language, am I?” she asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot anxiously. That sounded strangely like something he might say, and in that exact same tone as well.

“No,” he shook his head.

“No, what?”

“No you are not speaking a different language, and no, I would not like to dance with you,” he said.

Only because I couldn’t control my bodily reactions if I were so close to you.

Hermione grunted and rolled her eyes. “Perhaps you don’t know how?”

She knew exactly what she was doing, bating him into this. A challenge like that would not go unanswered by the likes of him… anything to prove her wrong and whoever had put her up to this that he was not incapable. As a matter of fact, he was completely capable of sweeping a woman off her feet, he had only never had the chance to do it.

When he finally made up his mind to dance with her, she had turned on her heels and was headed back toward her seat. He reached out a hand, curling his fingers over her arms lightly. She stopped in her tracks, and turned back to look at him. Her left brow arched over her eye questioningly, “What?”

“Miss Granger… Hermione… would you care to dance with me?” It was exceptionally difficult to get that out without it sounding like a command, or anything nasty, but he had succeeded… somewhat anyway. She smiled. It was a true smile, and meant only for him.

A dance ended, and a new one began as he pulled her to an empty spot on the floor. There was a moment of apprehensiveness on her part, and he wondered if she was having second thoughts about asking him to dance, but he noticed quickly it was because she was unsure of where she should place her hands.

“I’m beginning to think you are the one who does not know how to dance,” he said.

Hermione looked at him with a defensive glint in her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d actually accept!”

“Then why did you ask?” he asked, placing his hand on her thin waist, wrapping his fingers around to rest at the back of her hip.

“Because you looked so glum,” she said. “It’s a happy celebration. And while I think you might be completely incapable of happiness, I thought I might try to at least lighten your spirits a bit by showing some interest in talking to you.”

He paused for a moment, pulling her against him quite harshly. Severus had meant such a movement to have a bit of force behind it, but not as much as it really had. “I do not need your pity, Miss Granger.”

“It’s not pity, Professor,” she said, shifting against him, and relaxing into his grip as he took her other hand and led her into the dance. “I merely don’t want to look at you frown all night.”

“Ah, so now you are self-serving. A very Slytherin characteristic, little lioness,” he said.

“Though it may be,” she paused a moment, meeting his eyes, “I also have an ulterior motive.”

“And that is?” he questioned.

Hermione sighed, “To get to know you a little better.”

“Why?”

“Because you interest me,” she replied.

“I’m not some experiment that you can observe,” he said.

Hermione chuckled and shook her head. “No, you are not, but you are something that can be researched.”

“Like you were doing this afternoon while speaking with Lupin and Tonks?” he accused, and instantly wished it had not come out. Normally, he was controlled and would be able to keep from blurting things out like that. But again, Granger brought the volatile Snape out of his shell.

“You listened into the conversation?”

He nodded, turning her sharply around a few times and pulling her back against himself. “I did.”

“Damn you and your spying,” she said.

“No one ever changes,” he said.

Hermione met his eyes, “Well, you shouldn’t be so huffy about it, considering what I said about you!”

“Did I say I was angry that you were talking to them?”

“You didn’t have to,” she said. “Your tone says enough.”

“You shouldn’t rely on one’s tone to tell you how they felt,” he said. “If I had taken your tone into consideration earlier, I would have thought you had much more than a healthy respect for a former professor and colleague.”

Her feet rooted into the ground with that comment from him, and the surprise in her eyes was enough to tell him he had struck a cord somewhere deep inside her. She pushed hastily away from him, giving him one last glance before turning and walking quickly toward the manor house.

Way to go, Severus.

How did he always manage to push the people that seemingly cared about him, even only as a research project, so far away?

“Every single time,” he muttered to himself and looked around, finding many curious glances finding him. He waved them off and receded into the dark corners of the large tent that the reception was being held in. He needed to go sulk alone.