The Invitation
by Juliane

Professor Snape was sitting at his scarred but relentlessly organized wooden desk, scrutinizing documents related to his Wolfsbane research. He was in the middle of an abstracted frown when his concentration was disturbed.

"Severus, may I see you in my office?" The Headmaster’s voice echoed out of Snape’s fireplace and the Potions master looked up with a slight grimace. Am I to take his compliments to the Death Eaters, he thought sourly, or did Alingsby’s parents finally send an owl to complain about that accident during detention? As if I’m to assume anyone under the age of thirty is incapable of cleaning out acid vats.

He stepped into the fireplace and out into Dumbledore’s office, pausing on the hearth to twitch the ash off of his robes with impatient precision. "Headmaster-" he began, but stopped in surprise. Dumbledore was holding out a large square card, heavily embossed with gold, and he had a look of vast amusement on his face.

"Er, what is that?"

Dumbledore settled down in his cracked but comfortable leather wing chair and indicated the one opposite. "It’s an invitation for the faculty to attend a- a-" he adjusted his spectacles and read "a neighborly celebration to mend the recent rifts in the Malfoy/Hogwarts relationship. At the Malfoy house. Cocktails and dancing." He looked up for Snape’s reaction.

It consisted of a pair of lifted eyebrows, and a slightly curled lip. "Any guesses as to which game Lucius is playing, Headmaster?" inquired Snape.

"I thought you might have an idea, Severus." Oh yes I do, but not one I can explain, Snape thought, and said aloud, "He may be doing exactly what it says. His son is still enrolled here, after all, and he may want to play up his association with us after he was caught collaborating with the Glossops. He has enough problems without Ministry scrutiny. This may be a clever move by him, and more subtle than I…"

"Ah. My thinking exactly. I’ve decided to accept the invitation. He wouldn’t dare set a trap, and it might be an opportunity to glean more information about present and future plans in his particular, ah, direction. Do you agree?"

Snape shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "It might be a good idea. For some of us, at least. Yourself, Minerva, Madam Pomfrey, perhaps Flitwick."

"All of us, Severus," Dumbledore said, with a smile. "The invitation includes the entire faculty, and we want to take full advantage of Lucius’ hospitality. Brush up on that cocktail-party conversation, there’s a good fellow!" He got up and briefly gripped Severus’ shoulder. The Potions master had to suppress the urge to throw off the friendly hand, and he merely stepped to the fireplace with gritted teeth and dread in his heart.

~*~*~

Back in his room, Severus began to pace. Diana, was this your idea? It would be like you, to suggest something so perfectly wrong on all levels, yet… He stopped to lean against his mantelpiece, his fingers slowly tracing the carved hemlock leaves. Yet so perfectly suited to start everyone thinking. I can’t imagine Lucius engineering this on his own. He snorted and threw himself into his deep armchair, then his face grew thoughtful. During his visits to the Malfoy house in his guise as a Death Eater, he’d had ample opportunity to watch Diana and her son, Charles. A clever boy, well mannered, but then I always knew Diana would make a wonderful mother, Snape mused. His mouth hardened as he imagined a life not broken into fragments. A life that allowed for a partner with whom to share ideals, time for research, perhaps a child. Waste of time, those kind of thoughts, he told himself and snatched at his Wolfsbane papers to continue his interrupted work.

~*~*~

Viviane was holding up a somber, dark violet gown, with the usual long sleeves and unusual high neck. She sighed and rolled her eyes at the recollection of Albus’ announcement, during lunch, of the party at the Malfoy’s that evening, and thought, this is one time and one place I’d like to be as inconspicuous as possible. If I can just get through it without causing any mayhem, I’ll be thrilled. This looks like it will fit. She threw the robe over the back of a chair and wandered out into her office. Malhereuse caught her sleeve as she went by and she stopped to stroke the falcon, smiling as she thought about Severus’ less than enthusiastic acceptance of the invitation. At the very least, I’ll get several hours’ entertainment by watching Sev make nice with his Death Eater buddies.

A knock at the door made her glance up. "Enter," she said, and tilted her head in surprise as Dumbledore walked into the room.

"My dear," he said as he settled himself on the sofa. "You have the most welcoming office. Do you happen to have-"

"Of course!" Viviane laughed and poured them both a glass of Graham’s 1948 port. Sitting down next to him, she raised her glass slightly. "To what do I owe-"

"The dubious honor of my company?" chuckled the Headmaster. "Only this, Viviane." He took a long sip of his drink. "Ah yes, just marvelous, marvelous…well now. Ahem. About this party at the Malfoys…" He stared past her for a moment and then continued. "You have a lovely wardrobe – you’ve looked magnificent at the few formal events that have taken place." The Headmaster suddenly looked her straight in the eyes and his voice took on a harder edge. "But I must request that you refrain from wearing anything that will antagonize Malfoy and his cronies. No Devereaux insignia, no serpents, no green, no black. No fleur-de-lis, no coronets, no blazing Devereaux emeralds." He set his glass down on a table and stood, looking down at her. "I regret having to ask you to do this." He sighed. "I shouldn’t have to ask you, but you have violated my trust on several occasions, and seem unable to resist taunting those who should be left alone. Perhaps you should work on overcoming that." He took her hand and pulled her to her feet, then took the other, giving both a gentle pressure. The lines deepened on his face and he seemed lost in a sorrowful collection of thoughts. "Ah, Viviane. You’ve still got some growing up to do, and I’m terribly afraid of the cost -" With another quick pressure of the hands, he dropped them and abruptly left.

Viviane sank back down on the sofa and leaned forward, elbows on knees. "Growing up. Growing up," she muttered. Springing to her feet, she hurried into her bedroom and snatched at the gown she’d been inspecting. She twisted it in her shaking hands. Cost. He can’t begin to comprehend the costs…Closing her eyes, she saw her father’s chateaux, the towers of Aquitaine, her schoolmates, her Professors, the people she’d killed, all that no longer existed. The face of the first man she’d slept with for a meal and a place to stay, during her first destitute months in Britain. The beatings she’d gotten for disobeying the orders of a smuggler. She, a Devereaux, an heiress, trained for leadership and high places.

Dropping the gown, Viviane stepped to a chest half-hidden in the corner of the room and swept off the papers and quills that covered it. She rooted around and finally drew out a wrinkled ball of deep, garnet-red fabric. Shaking it out, she cried "Mitigo!" and the dress fell into its original folds. She took a deep whiff of the material. "Good. Not musty." Holding it up to her body, Viviane caressed the raw silk and commented, "Perfect."

~*~*~

"Almost everybody’s here, and nobody’s dead yet," whispered Madam Pomfrey to Professor McGonagall between sips of her perfectly-made martini. "That must be a new record."

"Indeed it must be," murmured Professor McGonagall but then froze, her hand grasping Madam Pomfrey’s arm. Madam Pomfrey followed her stare, and murmured, "Dear Merlin."

In the opposite corner of the room, Diana was recounting her years in Germany to a cluster of her former classmates when she broke off in the middle of an anecdote, her eyes wide, and she touched Narcissa’s arm. "Who is that?" she inquired. "The woman in the red gown? With the – the – " Narcissa glanced over at the doorway and after an initial shocked stare, assumed a knowing drawl. It wasn’t often that she could impart information Diana didn’t already know. "Why, don’t you know, my dear? That’s Viviane Devereaux, although these days she calls herself Viviane Chance. She’ll be teaching your son Defense Against the Dark Arts, if he goes to Hogwarts. The woman is mad, obviously. She’s never before shown the costs of her personal crusade against our kind – they are rather impressive, aren’t they?"

Diana’s fingers slid from Narcissa’s arm and she watched Viviane’s progress across the room. The witch was swathed in an off-the-shoulder, dark red silk gown, that should have been elegant, but for the raised lines of flesh that cut across and down her bare arms. Her dark hair was swept up in an elegant twist, and as she turned, Diana gasped slightly as she saw the scars that ran down her back, revealed by the low cut of the dress. Then it is true, what I’ve heard about her former pursuits. Her eyes narrowed and she was about to turn back to her companions when she caught sight of Severus looking intently at Viviane Chance. Her hands balled into fists for a second before she caught herself and forced her fingers to relax. He never looked at me that way, even in the most intense phase of our relationship. Can it be? She promised herself to keep an eye on her former lover and the scarred Mademoiselle Chance.

Viviane walked over to where Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were standing. "Viviane," said the Transfiguration teacher guardedly. "You look lovely."

"Do I, Minerva? Thank you." Viviane scanned the room, taking in the reactions to her appearance, which ranged from curiosity to shock to disgust. "Pardon me, I think I need a drink." She headed towards a waiter holding a tray of champagne, but before she got there an arm reached out and pulled her gently backwards. Another arm appeared around her other side, holding a full wineglass. "Drink, Viviane?"

"Bill," replied Viviane as she accepted the glass, "what are you doing here?"

He laughed, his breath tickling her ear. "Narcissa invited me. She likes men with deep knowledge of curses and high tolerance for pain." He ran a finger lightly over one of the scars that wound its way down her arm. "What gives with the lack of sleeves? I didn’t think you even owned a gown without fabric down to the wrists."

Viviane leaned back fractionally against him. "I was forbidden to wear anything denoting who I am, or more correctly, who I was. So I thought I would serve a gentle reminder through my person. Besides, I’m tired of swathing myself in fabric out of deference to the aesthetic sensibilities of others."

Before Bill could reply, Professor Snape walked up at a fast clip, and grabbed Viviane by the arm. "I need to talk to you," he snarled, and taking her wineglass, shoved it into Bill’s hand.

"Severus-" whispered Viviane furiously, but he did not reply as he hustled her out of the room and down a hallway. Opening a door, he thrust her inside and she only had time to realize she was in a large closet before his mouth closed over hers. His hands slowly found their way down her back, his fingers lingering on the scars, and around to clasp her hips, as his kisses deepened. Viviane, utterly confused and able to see nothing, simply gave in to his presence, tasting scotch and spices and his own unique flavor on his lips and tongue, and she molded her body to his questing hands.

He broke away in the middle of a kiss and she felt his lips graze her cheekbone. "Oh Viviane, you insane witch," he breathed. "You crazy, reckless woman-"

"You aren’t angry?" Viviane asked. "Albus-"

Snape laughed softly. "The Headmaster gave you a dress code, did he? I thought so as soon as you walked in tonight. You look spectacular, by the way. Inviting. Most inviting-" and he pulled his hands up her sides and dropped his head to brush the swell of her breasts with his lips. His breath against the sensitive skin made Viviane draw in her own sharply and grasp his shoulders. "Severus, we’re in Malfoy’s broom closet-"

"I’ve noticed." His hands replaced his lips upon her breasts, his thumbs gently slipping beneath the fabric to caress her nipples. "The Headmaster was quite impressed, I think, by your ingenuity in subverting his request. A pity I’ve never had the nerve or the imagination you’ve shown this evening in defying him." He grabbed her hand that was working its way down his body. "No, my dear, not yet."

Running his hands down her arms, he knelt before her. One of his feet hit a washbucket, producing a loud clatter, causing both of them to laugh and then hush each other. "Did you cast a Quietus Spell in here?" whispered Viviane. "No," replied Severus, and they both fell silent, listening for anyone coming down the hall. No footsteps interrupted them and Viviane heard Snape’s laugh turn into a lascivious chuckle as he reached under her dress, leaving a trail of goosebumps up the flesh on the insides of her legs. He hooked two fingers into the waistband of her underwear and leisurely drew them down to her ankles. Viviane, grinning to herself, carefully drew one foot through while gathering up her dress, then felt Severus grab her ankle and set her foot back down on the floor, prodding her legs slightly farther apart.

Suddenly his touch was gone, and in the silence she could not even hear his breathing. "Severus?" she whispered. Her only answer was his tongue, warm and moist, sliding up her left thigh to the folds of skin between her legs, separating them and bathing each of them, inside and out, with studied care. Viviane, dizzy with pleasure, clung to his shoulders and tried to suppress her moans as he brought her to climax, sucking gently on her clitoris. She closed her eyes against the darkness, and felt as if everything – Hogwarts, rules, that blasted party – had fallen away and all that existed was this broom closet and his mouth against her flesh. As she continued to cling to his shoulders and her breathing began to slow, he arose, sliding his arms up her body and seeking her mouth with his. Viviane recovered her equilibrium and before he could kiss her, she pushed him back against the opposite wall, her hands blindly seeking the fastenings on his robes.

She quieted his protests with fingers that stopped but caressed his lips, and he captured one finger lightly with his teeth for a moment before letting her expose his skin to her ministrations. Viviane trailed a slow line of kisses down his torso, and he could not restrain a gasp as she removed the final layer of clothing over his erection, wrapping long fingers around his cock and tilting it towards her.

Severus concentrated on not losing control. Viviane had never done this to him before, but whether the omission was through her holding back or his impatience in their former encounters escaped his memory. As she took him into her mouth, her warm lips sliding down the shaft, tongue teasing the skin, he braced his hands against the walls and tried to keep breathing. Powerful waves of pleasure were rolling to all parts of his body and he began to shake, his fingers scrabbling against the walls, trying to gain traction. "Ah, Viviane," he gasped, one hand groping for her shoulder, for support, as a powerful orgasm shook his frame. She was just beginning to rise to her feet when his knees buckled. He tumbled onto her, and in the tangle of arms and legs and garments their mouths met again, murmuring incoherent words of passion through fierce kisses. Hands began to seek flesh, Severus’ fingers sliding down between her buttocks to probe the wet core of her. She responded by smoothing her hands over his ass, reaching for and gently caressing his scrotum, matching the rhythm of her tongue flicking against his.

They paused for a moment, in need of air. "Severus," Viviane managed to gasp. "My dear, they’ll be looking for us-"

She felt his hair fall across her face and his eyelashes brush against the tip of her ear as he growled, "Do you care? I don’t, not right now. Not now-" and he sought to thrust his hips against hers. She laughed, her voice pitched a shade higher than usual. "Again, so soon?" and slid one leg around his back. "Oh yes," he breathed, and thrust into her. "Ouch," exclaimed Viviane.

"What?" her lover said. "Have I-"

"I hit my head on a mop handle," she giggled, and then forgot all about it as Severus, one hand on the small of her back, lifted her body to meet his more closely, to enter her more deeply, all the while seeking her neck with his lips. Viviane let her head fall back and matched her movements with his, wringing from him a moan that he smothered in her shoulder. As her lover’s movements became more insistent, she wound both arms around his neck and nearly screamed as he paused in mid thrust, teasing her for a second before continuing. "Severus, Sev, please, she begged, and he responded with such intensity, grinding into her so that climax overtook them both unexpectedly and they buried their heads in each others’ necks to stifle their cries.

They lay there for several moments, alternately waiting to regain breath and kissing whichever part of the others’ body was within reach. Viviane spoke first, in a low voice brimming with mirth. "Do Slytherins prefer cramped, dark spaces for sex, or is your stellar performance just now due to the presence of all these cleaning utensils?"

Snape laughed softly and rubbed his nose against her ear. "Perhaps the sight of you….in this gown….and the thought of having you here, on Lucius’ turf…." She could sense his bared teeth and then he nipped her earlobe. "You’re a bad influence on me, Viviane. Watching you, I’m learning the joys to be had in living defiantly."

He felt her warm breath on his shoulder as she sighed. "Don’t learn too much, Severus. You still have need of great caution in your task." He tensed as she slid her lips up to his jawline, tracing it until she found his mouth. She gave him one last, intense kiss, catching his lower lip with her teeth for an instant before breaking off and struggling to stand. "We must get back to the party, Severus. Time to reassume our roles." Viviane grasped his hand and helped him to his feet, then both tried as best they could to reclasp garments and smooth down hair.

Snape cautiously opened the door and found no one in the hallway. Taking Viviane’s hand, he drew her out of the closet and turned to inspect her. "You look like you’ve just been tumbled in a broom closet, you saucy wench," he commented, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Really? And you look as if you’ve been taking voluptuous liberties in out-of-the-way spaces," replied Viviane equably. "We’d best not walk in together."

"You’d best not walk in at all." A stern voice tinged with reluctant amusement made them both jump. Professor McGonagall appeared at the end of the hallway. "You two obviously don’t know just how, er, rumpled you look if you were thinking of going back in there. Please, don’t tell me anything, but I suggest both of you return to Hogwarts. I’ll make your excuses - nobody will question me if I tell them you two had an argument and stalked off to fight it out elsewhere."

"Thank you, Minerva," Viviane said, laying a hand on the Professor’s arm. "Be sure to tell Malfoy that he throws a great party."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow with a smile. "I will. And I’ll be meeting you for coffee and a little chat tomorrow, Viviane?" Without waiting for an answer, she disappeared back down the hallway.

Severus Snape turned to Viviane Chance and held out his hand. "Shall we, my dear?"

"To Hogwarts," Viviane replied.