The Gifted Curse

Chapter 5 - The Yule Ball

It was the evening of the Yule ball. Excitement filled the castle as everyone donned their best dress robes and made their way down to the Great Hall with their dates. Geneva was dressed in a dark green strapless gown that hugged her figure on the top and fanned out slightly from the waist to her ankles. She wore her hair down in gentle waves with a few trestles gathered at the back in a silver hair slide. As Geneva and Orah approached the doors of the Great Hall, the bass of the music took over their chests, beating in penetrative rhythm. Orah was still harping on about Geneva's dateless decision.

"It's what I wanted. Look," she pointed, "There's Billy. He looks good."

"Are you sure you-...."

"Yes!" Geneva laughed giving her shoulder a push. "Go to him. Go on, before he panics he has a bloody hair out of place."

Whilst Slytherins, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws alike waltzed with their partners on the blue-ambient lit floor of the festively transformed Great Hall with it's snowy filled enchanted ceiling, magically bewitched overhead, Geneva sat out. She took a place a toward the side next to the ice sculpture of a grand horse up on it's hind legs surrounded by goblets of sparkling apple cider. Seeing Geneva sitting aside, Orah's face scrunched in guilt over her dates shoulder, but Geneva smiled and motioned for her to continue. Along the row of seats were a number of other students without dates. She recognised them instantly as those who were always chosen last when people were put into teams – the least popular students. She didn't mind, and smiled politely at Luna Lovegood two seats away, who was wearing a rather strange ensemble of a dress covered in root vegetables – something one wouldn't usually wear to a ball, or ever, but Geneva always respected her quirks. She was different, like her.

"I did have a corsage," Luna said, whispily "but it went missing," she looked mildly puzzled, then leaned in a little closer as if revealing a secret, "I suspect nargles are to blame."

What the hell was a nargle?

As the night unfolded, Geneva sat with a goblet of steaming apple cider in her hand. Who needed a date when Hagrid was attempting to waltz with Professor McGonagall, providing all the entertainment. It was adorably hilarious. His towering stature made her look like a delicate jewellery box ballerina. When she could bare no more, she waved him polity on and chuckled her way back to the staff area. There was no table as usual, but an area where the teachers were congregated. Where was he? Geneva's eyes searched all around for her Potions Professor – the reason why she had denied a date eight times that week. He was all she could think about. She had given up battling her thoughts toward him. It was exhausting lying to herself. She hadn't the time to mingle with or interact with other boys, or the desire. Her mind was too preoccupied with him – Snape.

She took another sip of apple cider and tried to make her mission undetectable.

And there he was – stood beside Professor Dumbledore. Geneva swallowed her last sip full and held her goblet to her lap. Her stomach flipped and fell on itself as she gazed at him across the room. He was stood with his hands in his usual position, saying a few words to the side of the Headmaster, as though he were keeping an eye on a particular pair that was duly noted. Even at a leisurely event, Professor Snape was as stern faced as ever, clearly on guard for any teenage-debauchery, but something about him was different, although only slight. He wasn't wearing his robes and instead wore a long coat style tailored jacket in rich, deep black with long black pants and shoes. His tall, broad shouldered silhouette in contrast to Dumbledore's lilac robes made him stand out even more than usual, especially since he was stood in front of a white, glittering Christmas tree. His stature, dare she admit it, was rather attractive. Unbeknownst, Professor Snape had a waist under those heavy robes he usually wore, making his stature exceptionally dashing, shaped in a strong 'V' from his shoulders to his waist where his coat nipped in and then flared out.

Whilst she was gazing at him, Luna was mumbling something in conversation. Geneva occasionally flicked her eyes over and made a noise of acknowledgement, but she had no idea in the faintest what Luna was talking about. Even Snape's hair looked washed, or was it just the reflection of the Christmas lights bouncing off the grease that made it appear shiny?

And then he looked. Professor Snape looked right at her. Geneva felt her stomach somersault and her heart pump hard, looking back at him, locking her gaze. She was uncertain how long it went on for, but the adrenaline rush caused a rush of heat to wash over her.

"Ahh, the lovely Geneva!" came a bubbly voice to the right of her. It was Fred Weasley, followed by his brother, George, now completely obstructing the view of her Professor.

"Fred, George, what are you doing here??" The boys had left two years prior, and although she politely inquired, her eyes were desperately trying to see between them.

"McGonagall allowed us. Guess you could say we're special guests." Fred tugged on his shirt in cocky humour.

"We're on business!" George enthused, "Today is your lucky day. We're giving out free samples of our Poppin' Pear Drops. Show her Fred."

Fred proudly opened a bag of multi-coloured hard-boiled sweets and shoved them under Geneva's nose so quickly, she jolted backwards.

"Not now boys," she urged, searching for Professor Snape, but the moment had gone. She could no longer see him.

"They're free. Take a handful!"

"No thank you, I'm sorry, I'm looking for someone."

"Alright. Suit yourself," said Fred, putting them back in his pocket. "Who's your date anyway?"

"I don't have one," she answered.

"Geneva Azur doesn't have a date?" Fred laughed, taken aback in shock.

"Yes, and it really isn't a big deal," Geneva informed them, in a perhaps more firm way than was meant. "Sorry."

She swiftly got up and left, putting down her goblet with no intension of heading anywhere in particular. She was just so irked that the Weasley twins had ruined her moment with her Potions Professor that she wanted to leave. The band had now upped their tempo and there was a surge of people on the dance floor, jumping up and down, which made it almost impossible to spot Orah. Professor Snape was long gone. The noise in the Great Hall was so loud; people were now having to shout to be heard.

Geneva wondered outside the grounds, but without her cloak it was unbearably freezing. She hugged her arms around herself, rubbing her goosebumped flesh, her long dark hair which she usually wore up, blowing in the night air. She glanced around for someone she knew, perhaps another person foolish enough to be out alone in these temperatures. Everyone was coupled, some holding hands, others kissing, giggling or sat talking with goblets of hot apple cider in clasped hands to warm them up. After a few minutes she gave up and decided to head back up to her dormitory.

And then she saw him – Snape, walking along the top of the stone steps coming towards her with Professor Lupin. Geneva became a concoction of awkward posture and simply resorted to the false pretence of waiting for someone and looked around, rubbing her arms for anything to do but stare. Her heart sped, don't look, don't look, she repeated, but she did, and so did he - his black eyes subtly resting on her for all but a second. One glorious second.

"Gene-vah!" Lupin chuckled, "Look at you out here. Best you go back inside or get yourself a cloak. It's perishing!"

"Oh, I will," she smiled, jittering.

"You're looking absolutely lovely by the way."

"Thank you, Sir."

Lupin went to turn back to Snape, but spun back to Geneva. Snape's eyes had rolled away impatiently.

"Oh and I never got to congratulate you. Congratulations on making the new seeker. Best of luck in your upcoming match."

"Thank you, sir."

The endurance of this conversation felt like the longest moment of her LIFE, standing there awkwardly with Professor Snape in tow, who looked awkward in his own right, his gaze averting anywhere but them. His fingers were interlinked behind his back as formally as ever.

Geneva's ears and face drew heat as she felt herself blushing, even in minus temperatures.

Once her Professors walked slowly on by. She breathed a sigh of relief. She looked absolutely ridiculous, standing there with chattering teeth in the icy night air. Turning immediately, desperate for warmth, she headed into the Great Hall and was relieved to feel heat of many bodies wash over her jittering limbs. She then headed straight to her dormitory.

It was quiet inside – everyone was still at the party – exactly what Geneva had hoped. She changed into her t-shirt and shorts, and climbed into bed, pulling the duvet up high. She tossed and turned for a while in the darkness, the only light coming from the moon, which shone down in a strip of light on the green rug, woven in Slytherin colours. She reached up and pulled the curtains around her bed before settling on her back with her eyes closed. Professor Snape. He was right there, engrained into her thoughts – the way he looked that evening, the fact he had looked right at her in a room full of people – her. Why? She hadn't a clue, but it made her feel something. She felt a knot behind her navel travelling through her core between her legs. She opened her eyes. No. Geneva. Don't. You can't. Not over a teacher.

Just one time, an inner voice whispered. And there, alone in her dormitory, she gave in to her desires.