Severus arrived a few minutes late and found Hermione's door cracked open. Shrieks and laughter inside piqued his curiosity. He knocked softly before pushing the door open to poke his head inside.

A scene of absurd dimensions and delightful proportions spread out before him. Lovegood, dressed in a costume consisting mainly of violently fuschia feathers was jumping about, and Hermione was racing after her. She was wearing her Jaguar mask, but the tail was noticeably absent.

"Give it back!" She skidded to a stop when her prey turned suddenly. She only missed Luna by a whisker.

"Wait, I think it's infested with grink-bugs!" Luna's laughter didn't make for a convincing protest of worry.

Hermione caught up with her friend, tackling her to the sofa. They continued to tussle, scattering pink feathers about as the witches giggled and struggled with the beleaguered tail.

Severus had an idea and summoned the longest feathers silently. Clearing his throat, he brandished the plumes, "Here, kitty kitty."

Startled, the witches both squealed and Luna fell off the sofa and onto the floor with a thump in a fuschia cloud of loose feathers that fell slowly about her.

Hermione sat up and somehow had gotten feathers in her lovely mouth, from which she spat, "Patooey!" A bit of down remained stuck to the corner of her lips, like she'd tried to swallow the fwooper. She looked Severus up and down, from her kneeling position on the couch. "Wow."

Luna sat up and started to reapply feathers to the bald bits. There was a hood to the costume that covered her shoulders and head, creating the impression of a neckless bird. She let out a high-pitched trill of agreement. She still had Hermione's tail in hand, leaving it curled over her wrist as she worked.

Severus flicked the feathers enticingly in his fingers with increasing amusement.

Giggling, Hermione stood up and play-stalked over, red satin-gloved paws up. She watched the feathers twitch with interest, making a very good impression of a cat. All she wanted was her tail to complete the effect.

Ideas popped into his mind. There was no way that Luna was getting these feathers back tonight. Using her distraction, he took a moment to admire the magical dress' unique charm, and what she'd done to extend the leopard spots down her neck to her shoulders and arms. How low did those spots go?

Enchanted silk, made to look like hot flames, rose in shimmering tongues to lick at her modest breasts. The specifics of her curves were hidden from view, although Severus thought he might just be able to see through if he looked long enough. Good lord, were there spots there too?

Severus let out a deep rumbling purr of approval before he recalled that they were not alone.

Spotted or no, she still blushed, and it added a lovely flush to her chest. Shy now, Hermione dropped the kitten act and wrapped her arms about her chest, a gesture that revealed even more of her cleavage. "Do you like it?"

"Oh yes." Tonight was going to be a test of his self-control. He was hard pressed as it was already. Steeling himself, especially in light of their misunderstanding earlier, he resolved to keep her to himself as much as magically possible that night. Social conventions and manners could all sod off.

He was rewarded with a bright smile. It looked strange on the jaguar's lips, but the warmth in her brown eyes was very right.

She stepped to the side, and for a moment he thought she was stalking him again. "You look wonderful, Severus." Her eyes widened, "What's that?" Her nose twitched, like a cat scenting a mouse on the air.

She'd noticed the smoke cloak's effect, a black cloud of it trailing after his every movement. They were artistically crafted wisps of illusion, and he fancied they looked a lot like his "Patheus" from that night. He executed a tight spin to bring out the effect for her approval. The costumers explained that it wasn't really a cloak, more of an effect created for the portrayal of a Demon King.

Luna's dreamy voice intruded before Hermione could say anything further. "Where there is smoke, there is fire."

Neville, who'd arrived unnoticed in their distraction, whistled. "Damn. You two are hot!"

"Likely to burn the castle down if we don't get moving." Hermione's fascinated examination of his person was interrupted, and she'd turned back to Luna, offering her a hand up. "Mightn't I have my tail back now, Luna?"

Severus tucked the feathers into an inner pocket of his dress robes, turning to greet Neville. He'd meant to shake hands with the Herbology Professor but came up short when he noticed how he was dressed.

Neville was wearing a white polyester jumpsuit that would have been quite in place if he were an Elvis impersonator, with a strange half-cape strapped about one shoulder like a musketeer's. The cape was formed of yellow cording woven together into a loose net that was more suitable for fishing than fashion. Topping it all off was a dark brown plush velvet hat, worked over in a honeycomb of quilting.

There was no polite way to say it. Why start trying now? "You realise that you look like a giant phallus, Longbottom?"

A choking sound came from the jaguar next to him. The half-masks they both wore extended to cover the cheeks in soft fur, leaving the lips visible, and Hermione had hers pulled in as she tried valiantly not to bust out laughing.

Neville drew himself up in indignation, "I'll have you know that I'm meant to be a Dictyophora indusiata."

"Currently, as you well know, the Dick-tyophora is being considered for reclassification as it is clearly not a Dick-tyophora, but rather a proper Phallus. Of the genus Phallus, family Phallaceae, and order Phallales. Are you seeking, as an upstanding member of the Society, to lobby for support to bring the vote up prematurely? Or are you just twigging everyone's noses with an elaborate penis-joke?"

Hermione nervously interrupted, "It does look very soft. I think it will turn heads at the least." She'd busied herself reattaching her tail and now the thing was lashing back and forth, a sign of predatory interest perhaps? She frowned at her gloved hands.

"Oh." Stammering, Neville turned a Gryffindor shade of scarlet. Between the innuendos on one hand and the compliment on the other he was in danger of having an intracranial nuclear meltdown. "Oh, bother. It seemed like an innocent enough idea." Brow knitting in thought he said, "Well it did when Draco suggested it."

Luna sailed in for the rescue. "Don't worry, Neville. We all know Draco's a bigger dick than you are. Between your good looks and my fwooper impression, we'll drive them all crazy. We're sure to win first prize." She fluttered her wings, adding, "I'll be sure to tie a blue ribbon right around you before morning."

Neville looked lost at the reference. Hermione had her knuckle in her mouth, biting it with amusement. She turned her laughing big brown eyes up to Severus, tilting her head in an unvoiced question.

Severus sighed. So transparent. "Yes, there is a costume contest; NO, we are not entering. It is intended for the Apprentices' amusement." He leaned in to whisper, "Although as a Master they'll try to task me with judging. They've been spoiling to saddle me with that job for ages."

"What? Haven't you done this before?"

He smiled down at her, "Had no interest in attending for a few decades now. My priorities only recently shifted. There's a contest for potions intended for frivolity. Recreational potions, if you will, which I find more interesting." Also possibly more dangerous.

Her answering smile melted his heart all over again. The fluffy spotted tail gently whipped into his sleek black one; together they intertwined. Hermione stepped closer to Severus, fitting under his arm.

A rumble of pleasure rattled low in his chest, and he glanced over to Neville and Luna, who were busily rearranging feathers on her shoulders, a task that assured they were actively NOT looking at him.

Chuckling Hermione whispered, "How much I have yet to learn about you, and your life." She poked him in the side in reproach. "You should have mentioned there would be contests to win. Or judge."

If their duennas were going to be so conveniently distracted, he was not about to overlook fate's largess. They'd need to get used to the idea sometime, right?

Tipping her head up with a finger he kissed Hermione gently. He could tell that she wasn't so sure about such a public display, and she started to pull away he pursued her, taking his time. When they broke the kiss he turned his head to her ear, where he breathed, "You've already won, Hermione."

She laughed throatily, "I'm one lucky witch." She nuzzled her cheek against him.

The sound of Neville's throat being cleared brought Severus back to the present with a surge of annoyance but he managed to convert abuse to a safer snarl. Hermione's ears flattened back in what he'd expect was a sign of embarrassment, but her eyes were still smiling brightly.

Luna whispered, "I was enjoying the show. Ever see David Attenborough? He spends a lot of time studying mating rituals."

Severus thought that Hermione's easy smile made her look very much like the cat who'd caught the canary. Or fwooper. She wasn't embarrassed by Luna's comment and as he picked away the last bit of pink down from the mask's muzzle, Severus admitted that she'd captured a Snape at least. He was here purely for her entertainment, for his night would be very different for him if he was alone.

"Thanks." Hermione smoothed out her skirts. "I think I'm ready to go, Severus. How are we travelling?"

Remembering himself, Severus pulled out the invitation and unfolded it. "Portkey." He looked over at Luna and Neville, "You still have yours?"

"Right, I've got it somewhere about here." Severus didn't want to consider where Neville stowed the thing; there was little left to the imagination with the jumpsuit. Perhaps that wide belt was deceptively functional. He sucked in his own gut reflexively, a fleeting show of self-conscious weakness. He was old.

Simultaneously, the invitations started to glow an eerie blue. "Grab on!" Severus gathered Hermione in, relishing the sensation of an armful of his witch. It was going to be a fantastic evening.

The ballroom was alive with sight and sound, and it was all rather overwhelming. There were probably over 100 attendees, but Hermione's powers of estimation were faltering. One, two, five, and many were the only numbers returned to her on consideration. Perhaps it was the champagne.

Almost immediately on their arrival they'd been separated from Neville and Luna. They had a chance to drink a little and danced to two songs before Severus was approached by a young page who'd been sent to fetch him to the Master's table for his duties to the society. He'd attempted to drag her along with him, but Hermione begged off, taking a moment for a break.

The solitude of the ladies' was restful, and just what she needed. She was washing up after a visit to the privy when a familiar voice carried to her ears as the door was opened for another witch of a similar mind.

"...I will be fine, stop making a fuss! I just need a moment." It was Olivia. Lucius. Distracted, she glided past Hermione, perhaps not recognising her in the jaguar mask. The blonde was tall, thin and took advantage of her new form by dressing in a very skimpy outfit. She was masquerading as a white peacock, with a feather cap, and an elaborate white feather bustier. The piece de resistance was an elaborate skirt that wrapped about her hips to gathered in the back as a train that approximated a furled male peacock's tail-plumage.

This last was a problem for Olivia when she tried to shut the loo door for privacy. Hermione admired the way the feathers shimmered with opalescent highlights over the snow white of the plumes. Olivia's exposed legs, belly, and arms were perfectly shaped and without blemish. Her hair was bound up with pins that were decorated with pearls. As she shook, cursed, and twisted, finally dragging the feathers into the stall fully, Hermione turned back to her own reflection in the mirror.

Hermione had not expected to see Olivia tonight, and she wondered what she could be doing here. Perhaps Draco knew and had invited her? Torn, Hermione fussed with the fur of her face and her hair, moving her cat-ears about with interest. She'd been a cat for a fortnight as a second year. Cat-girl, really. All due to a potion which she'd brewed correctly, but then made the terrible mistake of adding the wrong hair. This mask was much better. She didn't have fur everywhere, her eyes were her own, and she didn't have to suffer paws for hands.

Olivia stepped out of the stall, a flush later, muttering and sniffing. She had her head down as she fussed with the skirt, plucking at the feathers and folds, smoothing down the plumage which was thoroughly ruffled by the tight squeeze.

"Let me help." Hermione stepped behind the witch, smoothing out the feathers that were beyond easy reach. When she straightened up, Olivia had broken off and was staring at herself in the mirror, using a cloth to dab at her nose.

Making an effort to be polite, Olivia sniffled, "Thank you. You know I never thought I could be like this. I usually have no trouble with composure, but I've just received the most awful news, and I…" Her face crumpled in on itself, and she quickly covered her mouth with the cloth, letting out a whimper of misery along with the tears, "I just can't seem to calm myself."

Conjuring a chair, Hermione set it right by Olivia, and gently pulled at her elbow. "Sit. You need a moment." The situation was alarming, to say the least. Hermione didn't like Olivia, and was not happy with her in either incarnation for her treatment of her so-called best friend. "Shall I call your companions? You do not look well." It was true, for the witch was sobbing as though her heart was broken.

Momentarily robbed of speech, Olivia shook her head and wept into her hands.

Hermione summoned a flannel from her bag and ran cold water over it, wrung it out and then placed it on the back of the witch's neck, which did seem to help a little. What could be so terribly wrong? "Should I fetch a calming concoction? A cup of tea?"

"No. Thank you, you are too kind." Olivia looked up at her. "I swear I don't normally cry like this. I still shouldn't have any potions without clearance. It probably wouldn't matter anyway because the healers…" She glanced at the door before lowering her voice, "The healers say that I am going to lose my babies." As she went on she lowered her voice further to a painful, terrified whisper, "I don't know what to do!"

This wasn't the weeping of a witch who was jilted by a lover. This was a woman who was mourning for children whom she might never know. Sorrow overrode any other disagreeable feeling that Hermione might have held against her. "Olivia, I'm so sorry. That's awful. Is there nothing that can be done?"

"I hope to speak with the Potion Mistress, Sappho Mágissa. She teaches feminine potion arts at the great University in Paris. If anyone can help me, it surely would be her."

Excitement at the prospect of meeting such a well-known expert pushed Hermione's worry out of the way for the moment. "Of course, she's wonderful. How thrilling! She is here tonight? I can help you find her, I think. Would you mind if I tagged along, Olivia?"

Olivia looked up at her, brow knitting in confusion. "Do I know you?"

"Oh, of course you do. I'm Hermione Granger. Don't worry. I know exactly who you are. Severus explained things to me."

Anger clouded Olivia's grey eyes, already reddened with weeping. "He had no right."

"Don't blame him for telling me. He had to explain to me why you were all over him at the dance lesson, which wouldn't have been necessary if you were better behaved. He told me about Veronica too, all fallout of the same ridiculous plot." Hermione offered Olivia a tight smile. "But that's not important right now, you need to talk with Madam Mágissa. First, we've got to get you cleaned up. Who brought you tonight?"

"Conrad managed to charm Poppy Pomfrey into giving us her invitation since she never comes to these affairs anymore. Whit stayed back, doing a spot of research in the library." Calmer, Olivia blew her nose with a ladylike, discrete honk.

Hermione considered that change of events. She wondered what Conrad was disguised as. He had a flair for the dramatic.

"I imagine he's pacing outside. He's much more attentive than the other one." A sour smile capped off that statement.

Another pair of witches entered, and Hermione considered their next move. "I guess we had better get back out there."

Severus perused the rack of samples that he was expected to judge in the Diverting Drafts competition. The accompanying dossiers filled him with a mixture of growing fascination and horror. Horny Restorative?! Owl eye - that'd be useful - and Glow Sauce, which made the skin glow and rendered the former unnecessary.

Three of the entries were worthy of George Weasley's labs: Speech Bubbly, Corny Cordial, and Cheese Stimulant.

Earlier, when he claimed his place among the Masters, he was handed his assignments along with a room key for a suite upstairs. It was reserved for his own testing in private, as one of the potions was particularly naughty.

He'd need the Elixir of Eloquence to help him convince Hermione to help test the last one: Chocolate Cocktail. It could either be scintillating or ruin the rest of his night, depending on whether it lived up to its claims. The only hint given was that he should keep a freezing charm at hand.

Rules for the contest stipulated that the entries had to be reversible by a standard antidote or only last five minutes or less. Any that persisted beyond four hours would be summarily disqualified. Any that caused serious harm could result in expulsion from the Society. Slim comfort for the judge.

His profession required unshakeable nerve and a cast-iron stomach.

"Right. Now, where'd Hermione run off to?" Scanning the crowd, his lips twitched with wry amusement. "Here, kitty kitty."

Neville was two sheets to the wind when he ran into Draco Malfoy, in spite of it being quite early in the evening. Luna had run across a euphoria potion tasting session near the snacks. They were disturbingly effective.

"Longbottom!"

"Hullo… hic... Draco." Neville was flushed, and he wiped his hands on his trousers in an effort to dry off his sweaty palms before offering his schoolmate and business partner a hand. He paused when he saw the highly amused side-eye that the Malfoy was favouring him with.

Taking his hand and shaking it, Draco murmured, "You know, I was joking when I suggested this particular fungus as a costume." One corner of his mouth pulled up in an unmistakable smirk. "I'll give you credit, you really did a fantastic job."

A fleeting instant of anger crossed Neville's face in a creasing of the brow and an alien-looking frown. Then a spark of inspiration struck him and he started to laugh, so hard that he had to catch his breath in high pitched wheezes.

"What could possibly be more amusing than you dressed as a giant phallus?" Draco's smirk never left his face, but his shoulders had relaxed.

Clutching his sides, Neville managed to spit out, "Did you tell Snape to dress as an anthropomorphised pussy?" He started to laugh again, trying to hold it in, but his breath exploded in a raspberry of Peeves' proportions. "Oh, ha! Jolly good joke, Draco. What I'd give to see his face when you tell..."

Draco took a step back from Neville, as though he thought Snape's wrath was going to smite Neville where he stood. "No! There isn't anything to tell! I had nothing to do with Severus'..." He trailed off suddenly, turning away. A mixture of amusement and fear mingled on his face. "Good Godric. You weren't kidding, Longbottom."

Wiping his eyes of the tears that were streaming down his cheeks from the force of his laughter, Neville could only silently nod agreement.

"Is that Luna dressed as a giant chicken?"

Shaking his head, Neville grabbed onto Draco's shoulder and started giggling all over again, flushing enough that he was nearly the colour of Luna's feathers by the time she made her way over.

Draco looked like he wanted to say something, but turned away from Luna, rubbing at his face with his hand.

"Hello, boys." Luna strutted up in her plumage. She looked between them in affable bemusement. "What's so funny?"

Taking a number of deep breaths, Neville was able to get a few words out, pointing to himself, "Dictyophora!" then to Snape, "Pussy." In turn to Luna, "COCK!"

Hissing, Draco glanced about nervously. "Lower your voice or I'll set a Silencio on you!"

Luna smiled sunnily, "Oh yes, an excellent joke. Why didn't I think of that myself?" She stepped closer to peer down at Neville who'd sat down on the ballroom floor, cackling.

"Ha ha ha hee... " Neville gestured for Draco to come closer, and it being the most convenient spot, he poked the Slytherin in the knee for emphasis. "Massive Wanker!" He was very careful to enunciate every syllable.

A nearby Master Brewer glanced over with annoyance, and the reminder that he was in public was as bracing as a bucketful of ice water. Draco was able to smooth over his own ruffled nerves and confided to any who could hear nearby, "Just sampled the euphorics, and Longbottom's succumbed. Excellent batch, my compliments to the brewers. Pray, excuse my friend."

Years of practice in self-discipline were all that held Draco together when he caught Snape glaring in their direction.

Try as he might, Severus kept finding Longbottom and Lovegood as he searched for Hermione. The third time that the pair broke into guffaws of incoherent mirth, Severus suggested they try the calming potions. They quieted under his glare, but it was irritating that the minute he turned his back he was fairly certain they were laughing at some joke that he wasn't a party to.

The object of his affection found him rather than the other way around. Excited, and more than a little worried, she told him she needed to talk to him about something important.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she was towing him to the outskirts of the crowd by the elbow in a pressured approximation of a promenade. It came across as a forced march, and made him wonder if he was being taken to the Headmistress' office. It was fortunate that he'd thought to stow the protected sample rack away for safekeeping earlier in his search.

She slowed, stopping near the wall to cast a Muffliato. "Olivia's here, she needs your help."

Growling, Severus asked, "Why must that one show up now?" His tail lashed behind him and he watched his love's ears flatten back in chagrin.

"It is serious, not a joke or a prank." She dropped her voice low, looking about to see if they were being watched. It made her even more obvious, but he'd never say so. "The Healers say that she won't be able to carry the pregnancy past the first trimester. Her form is too unstable."

After doing some quick arithmetic in his head Severus grumbled, "That leaves us over ten weeks. Surely it can wait for one night?" He was sure his own ears were twitching with vexation.

Hermione picked up his hand and rubbed her cheek on it. "I know, Severus. I don't like this any more than you do, but she needs to meet a Potions Mistress. Mágissa is her name. Do you know her?"

Tail lowering, Severus let out a long exhalation. "I do." She was an argumentative witch, one who, if he was in the right mood, he'd enjoy a verbal duel with. He had much better things to spend his time on this evening, like the dear witch who was falling into the behavioural patterns of the feline with delightful ease. He turned his hand, cupping her soft cheek, extending his fingers to scratch at her jaw.

Eyelids lowering in enjoyment, Hermione started to purr with a high toned whirr. He wouldn't have believed his ears, except he could feel the vibrations with his hand.

"I have some potions I need to test in private. Are you still interested in being my assistant? You might find some of them interesting." His own voice was low, resonant, and he watched her struggle to resist.

"Severus…"

"Kitten?"

Hermione flinched. "Don't call me that." She dropped his hand, turning away.

Dismayed, Severus stepped closer to recapture her red gloved hand in his, not wanting her to walk away. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm not sure I understand?" Her change in demeanor was so sudden. And she hadn't minded "Kitty kitty" earlier.

"You've not forgotten my polyjuice mishap in second year, have you? That endearment reminds me of that horrible time." He saw hurt in her eyes as she turned back to answer him, her free arm wrapping about her chest.

Wincing, Severus remembered saying that she looked like a kitten who'd been dipped in an inkpot before getting partially transfigured into an annoying girl. "I see you quite differently now, Hermione. That time, indeed that student, was farthest from my mind. Please, forgive my playful tongue for its clumsiness."

A small smile answered his apology before she went up on tiptoe to brush her lips against his. "You're forgiven. Especially if you can arrange for us to speak with Madam Mágissa."

Tilting his head so he could look down at Hermione, Severus resigned himself to having to solve Lucius cock-block Malfoy's problems before he could have any peace. Cancelling the Muffliato, he offered her his arm. Plaintive, he asked, "Do I have to talk to Olivia? Can't we just..."

Hermione looked up at him through her lashes, "It will take longer if we don't bring her with us." She gestured for him to come closer, and after he bent his head, she whispered in his ear, "And I thought you had some interesting potions to show me."

Her light touch on his ear sent a thrill through him and his toes curled in his shoes. Fixing Olivia's problems became much more pressing. Unable to form words, he cleared his throat and looked about. His eyes settled on a white plumed confection who was hanging on the arm of a man dressed in black with a simple black mask and a rapier at his hip.

"Sooner begun, the sooner done, Severus." Hermione slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

Placing a possessive hand over hers, he was put in mind of a popular movie. "As you wish."

Once he agreed to help, Severus set about the business with single-minded determination. Hermione watched as he did away with pleasantries, ruthlessly cutting to the chase.

He asked a succession of questions, each to the point and tailored to get specific information out of Olivia as to what already had been tried and why they didn't simply redose him with the Weasley swinging chocolate at intervals, or extrapolate from the formulae.

It happened that the components of the original formula were known teratogens, especially poisonous to the babies, and the Healers were very much against experimental potions. Begrudgingly, he voiced the conclusion that Olivia already had stated.

"I will secure your introduction, although I cannot make any promises. Madam Mágissa is a challenge to persuade, but perhaps she will be sympathetic."

Olivia was tense, sensible of who was walking nearby. "I would be grateful. If this were only me, you understand, but…" She sniffed, and Conrad handed her a clean handkerchief which she used to dab at her eyes, "My babies would die, Severus. You have no children of your own, but try to put yourself in my shoes. Please."

Hermione was proud of Severus. She could see his jaw clench, a sign that left her in no doubt that he was passing over a succession of cutting retorts before settling on a succinct appeal for efficiency. "Let's get on with this. I'm not getting any younger."

Rather than distress her, Severus' withering tone made Hermione want to kiss the snark right out of him. Kisses were definitely in order.

As they crossed the floor arm in arm, followed by the Peacock and her Pirate, Hermione reflected on how comfortable she was flirting with Severus in this setting. Was it because she was getting into character, the mask itself unmasking her more basic desires? Or was it because they were in public, so she felt safe enough to be demonstrative? There were limits to what could be said and done with so many witnesses.

Then again, there was dancing. Blushing, Hermione was thankful for the camouflage that the dusting of fur over her cheeks offered. Her Jaguar could lend her the confidence she'd need, should the opportunity arise. Licking her lips, she wondered if they would play a tango tonight.

Why wait to find out when she could make it happen?

Severus swallowed his bitterness, focusing on the task at hand.

Madam Mágissa stood surrounded by an army of Apprentices, Journeymen, and sycophants. Every single one of her vanguard was a witch, but the colourful costumes were a welcome addition to the display of intellectual wealth.

In the past he'd enjoyed this particular challenge. He could succeed in getting a word with the woman where others failed consistently, for he had a knack for reading the moods of the most capricious. What he could not claim was a 100% success rate.

"No matter what they say or how they say it, we must be unerringly polite. If we fail in this, Olivia will not get her interview." Severus had slowed his steps, allowing time for Olivia and Rolle to catch up. "If you don't have anything to say, silence is preferable." He picked up Hermione's gloved hand from the crook of his arm, kissed it, and then let go of her.

Hermione's ears twitched in irritated interest. "I don't understand."

"You will see." She wouldn't like it very much anyway. "Can you do this, Hermione? Olivia? If not, I should go on alone."

Rolle's laugh echoed tinnily in his ears. "You sound like a knight approaching a hungry dragon." He patted Olivia's shoulder. "We've the maiden fair right here."

"Are you suggesting that we send Olivia in alone as a sacrifice?" Hermione's tail curved in a perfect question mark as she watched the group. In particular, two of the witches were dressed as koi, one black and the other white, and their ruffled fins swayed as they danced together.

Already pale for aesthetic reasons, Severus thought Olivia might have just gone transparent in her dismay. She may be afraid, but she had the gumption to continue. "Would that be wiser? My French is reasonably good."

"That will not be necessary, Olivia. They like to come down to my level."

A dry chuckle sounded at his side and Severus discovered that loyal courtiers of Madam Mágissa's had drifted over to intercept them. "Ah, Proviseur Snape. I'd hoped that snake had done you in."

"Why Madam Linde, and deprive you of a target for your accomplished silver tongue?"

"Nonetheless, I am disappointed. Lord Voldemort wasn't widely known for his incompetence. Then again, he failed to kill an infant, and then failed to kill him on how many more occasions beyond that? By my count, it had to be at least six." The dark skinned woman flashed white teeth, "No doubt a failure that should be attributed to the entitled arrogance that plagues your sex. A woman would have succeeded."

Next to him, Hermione's jaw dropped. No sound came out. One ear swivelled to the side as she cocked her head, considering the witch's smug expression.

"Thankfully, good women saved us all. It was due to Harry's mother's gift and sacrifice that Riddle failed, and due to my associate's kind heart that I too survived." Severus indicated Hermione with an open hand.

Eyes lighting up with bright interest the witch stepped forwards to exchange air kisses with Hermione. "I have not heard this story, but I should not be surprised. Wizards would be so lost without us, is it not so, ma chérie?"

A second witch, one dressed in Roman era battle armour tailored for her thicker frame stepped over to insert herself into the conversation. "The real question is why we have put up with them as long as we have?" She had to be at least one-quarter giant, given her height.

"I am sure I do not know, Madam Rowan. Perhaps it is your better, kinder feminine nature?"

Crossing her arms before her she frowned down at him. "What do you want, Snape? Your presence is offending my sensibilities." She had always been rather straightforward and to the point.

Smiling, Severus looked up at her. "And here I thought you prefer the company of cats to people."

"No one would mistake you for anything but a miserable, bitter cauldron of venomous swill."

Bowing at the waist he said, "I shall take that as a compliment, as you cannot deny that you prefer potions to wizards. Even the worst poisons."

"I'm contemplating poisoning you if you don't get on with it. Two delights in one. Why haven't I done it before?"

Hermione's nervous laugh cut in and she broke her silence, "Because it would be a waste of your time. Severus is like a weed. Poison and neglect have made him grow stronger." She prodded him in his tender side. He'd nearly forgotten that injury so he failed to control a flinch.

"Ow." Palms damp, Severus held up his hands in defence. "Love, I beseech you not to overstate my humble..." He didn't have a chance to finish his plea for her to not give the ladies ideas.

Madam Linde watched in fascination. "What is this! The great Severus Snape is being modest?"

"Unlikely." Rowan was eying Hermione too now. "Are you going to introduce your companion to us, or are you going to continue to treat her like some brainless accessory?"

"Madam Trina Rowan and Madam Alanna Linde, may I present Professor Hermione Granger." He turned, having the presence of mind to include, "And these are Professor Conrad Rolle and Ms Olivia Malfoy."

Although she'd been quite interested in Hermione, Rowan did not move from her guarded stance to shake hands, "A pleasure for you all, no doubt."

Linde, being more demonstrative, glided over to Olivia and grasped her hands as she air-kissed her cheeks in greeting. "A Malfoy? My, you do have the family colouring and cheekbones. Are you by chance related to Draco Malfoy? He's a member of the Society too. I expected to see him tonight."

Olivia calmly completed the exchange of kisses, smoothly answering, "Yes, but we are not close anymore. I doubt that he'd know me by sight."

Truer words were never spoken. Severus cleared his throat. "Ms Malfoy has a problem of some delicacy that she hoped to present to the superior experience of your school of study in feminine magic. I confess that it is beyond my own skill, and advised that the best chance she has is to seek out Madam Mágissa."

"And you couldn't have written us a letter, Snape? This evening is for celebration, new beginnings…" Rowan was growling, "... not cleaning up after your messes. I should have known when you showed up that it wasn't just a social visit. Sanctimonious pirate."

Rolle bowed, "I'm the pirate tonight, Madam. Alas, I also claim some ownership of the problem." He was grave.

Not one to stand by quietly for long, Hermione added earnestly, "And we only just learned of the impending complications with Olivia's pregnancy tonight, Madam. We'd come for the dancing; it was the divine agency of providence that brought all of us together."

Wincing, Severus glanced at Olivia, checking for her response when Hermione bared the secret heart of Olivia's distress for viewing. As if on cue, Olivia's eyes clouded over with threatened tears.

"Why, you poor dear!" Linde retained possession of Olivia's hand, stroking it. "Of course you've come to the right people. We've the best institute for witch Healers in the world, thanks to Madam Mágissa."

A single tear sparkled as it dropped onto Olivia's pale cheek. "The healers tell me there is nothing that can be done, but I cannot accept that. I'd do anything to keep my babies. Anything."

The atmosphere shifted. Heads turned, conversations stopped mid-sentence. The ambient light changed to a rosy glow, and the scent of sweet almond permeated the air. Stalking towards them was a woman dressed in a white pleated robe strapped about her waist. Upon her head was an elaborate lioness headdress, above which flared a disc that was charmed to radiate warming light. She was barefoot but her bearing was regal, her flint-sharp eyes highlighted with a heavy line of kohl. Sekhmet incarnate, treacherous if angered, but possessing a wealth of knowledge for the feminine healing arts; Severus admired her choice.

Hand over his heart, Severus bowed. "Mistress Mágissa. We are honoured."

"I heard that a miracle is wanted? One needed to preserve life, rather than alter or end it?"

Dropping Linde's hand, Olivia took a step closer to the witch on whom she'd pinned her hopes. "Madam Mágissa!" Inspired, perhaps from a lifetime ago's experience of grovelling at the feet of a very different God, she went down on bended knee. As she did so a ripple of gasps and whispering spread through the little crowd. Hands held up in supplication, Olivia looked up in combined hope and terror. "Please. For my children. Help me."

Clicking her tongue, the witch bent, offering a hand up to Olivia. "Ms Malfoy. This is only a costume, you must forgive my theatrical whimsy. There is no need for such debasement, You are among your sisters."

Watching from the sidelines, Severus put an arm about Hermione's shoulders. The witches from Mágissa's entourage gathered around Olivia and in moments she was being carried off in the wave of support. Now it was all up to her powers of persuasion.

Silently wishing Olivia good fortune, he leaned down to whisper in Hermione's soft cat-ear. "Will you come help me judge some potions, love?"

Hermione tore her eyes away from the retreating crowd to look up at him with a shy smile, not even questioning the need for her assistance. "Of course."

Severus fished out a room key and dangled the fob in front of her before palming it once more. "My lab for the evening is better appointed than usual."

"What? They've got labs upstairs?"

"In a manner of speaking." He smiled wolfishly. "Private labs, made to look suspiciously like a hotel suite."

Understanding bled through, and Hermione's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh!"

Worrying that he was being too bold, Severus was taken by surprise when Hermione latched onto his hand and towed him towards the lobby. The application of her own special variety of Gryffindor enthusiasm and determination was charming.

She made him feel like he was 17 again. If he was lucky, he just might get to live out some of his teenage fantasies tonight.

Conrad followed the group at a discrete distance, watching anxiously as the head witch paused to erect a barrier just after she ushered Livvy inside. A subtle wave of repulsion began to exert pressure on his magic.

Other witches passed through the barrier in a shimmer of ruby sparks. One paused to smile at him. "Hullo, Professor Rolle. Bit of a mither, eh?" It was an alumnus, one of his.

"Polly Parkinson isn't it?" A fellow Hufflepuff. Kind girl from a low-income family, who went into the family business after graduation, if he remembered aright.

The girl hugged him enthusiastically. "Professor, don't you worry. I'll be sure to take special care of your… wife, is she?"

"Call me Connie, dear. Olivia would be my wife if she would only consent." He smiled down fondly at the witch, his memory comparing her to the waif he once plied with sweets.

She had come dressed as a sunflower, her face the centre of the bloom. Her petals rippled with interest. "Finally kicked Sir Whittington to the curb have you? He never was going to grow roots. I am happy for you."

Choking on a laugh, Conrad lifted a black-gloved hand to cover his embarrassment. "Well, he is also partly responsible for Olivia's present dilemma. We claim equal responsibility you see."

Confusion filled dear Polly's eyes. "But…"

Gently, Conrad took his former student's hand. "The three of us are in this together, my dear girl. Whit is off spending a perfectly good New Years evening researching, and I am here to escort my princess and see her safely home."

A wicked spark of humour came to life in the girl's dark eyes. "Ah, what a disappointment for us all. Sir Whittington dances divinely."

Moved to make amends for his lover's perceived failure to entertain, Conrad bowed precisely. "You may not know this, but I too have been known to be light on my feet. I would consider it an honour to fill the empty place on your fan if it pleases you."

Returning his gesture, the witch dipped in a graceful courtesy. "I would be delighted to take a turn with you later, sir. Now I must attend my mentor, for duty calls me to join the circle." Eyes soft, she promised, "I shall look after your lady love, sir. Please, be at ease."

"Thank you, Polly. You are a credit to the Badger."

The witch lunged in to give him another quick hug before dashing off, leaving Conrad standing alone in a room full of masked people. Severus and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.

Flashing a perfect smile, the Dread Pirate Conrad contrived to hold up a column nearby and settled in for a tense vigil. Speaking to the room in general he practised a neat flourish, "Never mind me, darlings. Everything is just tickety-boo."

AN: Thanks to Havelocked for her Beta-ing expertise, and to readers like you. Consider leaving a review if you like this!