Isobel ━ SEVERUS SNAPE

11. Refined indulgence

1994 December 10, Hogwarts
As they walked through the dimly lit dungeon corridors, Professor Snape and Isobel's footsteps echoed eerily off the stone walls. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows across their faces, adding an element of mystery to their conversation.

"You know," Isobel began, her voice echoing hauntingly through the dungeon, "when we said that we could collaborate...this wasn't what I meant."

Snape turned to face her, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "This wasn't what I meant either," he replied, his voice low and grave.

The two continued to walk in silence for a moment, the only sounds being the echo of their footsteps and the distant drip of water.

"When earlier I announced them...they seemed eager," Isobel spoke up again, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm curious about their reaction now."

Snape nodded solemnly, his black robes swishing ominously behind him. "Most of them come from prestigious families," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "They are used to balls, dancing."

Isobel smiled wryly. "But this is certainly different," she said. "They can be away from their families, actually dance with whomever they want, do whatever they want. It might be a better experience."

Snape regarded her for a moment, his piercing gaze seeming to see right through her. "You might be right," he finally conceded. "And thank you."

Isobel looked at him in surprise. "Whatever for?"

"For doing this," Snape said, his voice surprisingly soft. "For helping me with them."

Isobel smiled gratefully. "You don't have to thank me for it," she said. "I am happy to."

As they approached the large wooden door, Isobel couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. She knew that the next few hours were going to be challenging, but she also knew that she was ready for it. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open, revealing a large classroom filled with Slytherin students.

The room was silent as Snape and Isobel made their way to the front, the students watching them with wary eyes. Isobel could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on her, but she refused to let it show.

She took her place at the front of the classroom, standing tall and proud as she surveyed the sea of faces before her. Snape stood beside her, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded the students with a stern expression.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then, one by one, the students began to speak up.

"Professor Snape, what is the meaning of this?"

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Are we being punished?"

Isobel drew in a deep breath, her heart pounding with anticipation. She steeled herself for what was to come, knowing that the task ahead would require her utmost grace and composure. With a firm and unwavering voice, she addressed the assembled students.

"No, you are not being punished," she declared, her words ringing out clear and strong. "The Yule Ball is a time-honoured tradition of the Triwizard Tournament, a moment of well-mannered revelry and delight. On the night of Christmas Eve, we and our esteemed guests will gather in the Great Hall, and as representatives of our beloved school, we must each strive to put our very best foot forward."

The students murmured and shifted, their confusion palpable. But Isobel was undaunted, her gaze unwavering as she continued.

"And I do mean this literally, for the Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a dance."