Owl to Daisy (closed RP)
Severus writes the note very carefully in his patriotic green ink, with additional flourishes and thin double lines on the major stanchions of the letters. He pauses several times to ensure it is worded properly.
Dearest Daisy ( Read more... )
Dearest Daisy ( Read more... )
But speechlessness will not do. "I would love to spend the night with you."
The soft smoothness, the warmth of her body. He feels light-headed, shy, irresistibly drawn, at the same time hoping his skin does not catch on the delicate fabric. How he had used to smile in superiority when he found clothing of the older students. And now, he saw how easy it was. Even he, who never exposed so much as a wrist, felt inspired to shed his clothing that she might touch him as he touched her. "I will tell you in bed. It is a new idea I have had. It isn't... it isn't... er, carnal, but deeply personal. Something special - something magic, though the magic is not worked on you, or within you. It is not dangerous." He can't help but still be a little excited at this despite himself.
It feels like he is dreaming and yet it is not so. She is pressed against him and he holds her, touching her, without layers fabric in between, his hands against her skin - the smooth slip almost more personal than skin. He is pristine about his own underwear, folding it in other garments even for the house-elves who will wash it. He has never used a nickname as the other boys had when he was young in the dormitories, blushing at its appearance or mention. And here is Daisy, more than trusting im, wanting him. Him. He closes his eyes tight again against her hair.
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"Come on, let's go to bed," she whispers to him, letting go for a moment, and grabbing her dress off the floor. Her slip rides up slightly when she leans over, and a pair of pink lace underwear peeks from under it. Standing up, she takes Severus' hand and leads him upstairs to her bedroom.
Once upstairs, she throws her dress to the floor again, and spins into Severus' arms. She unbuttons his cloak, letting it fall down, as she had her dress. She leans into him and mumbles against his lips "I love you" before kissing them softly.
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He is not sure what he might do, but Daisy makes it so easy for him. His clothing is almost protectively buttoned, the cuffs tight over his wrists up into his palms. This is before one even gains access to his actual shirt. Not only are his trousers buttoned, but so are his pants, and his woollen gaiters over his cuffs and shoes. And over all is his gown, albeit open, and his cloak had been worn as well.
He catches her, after the spin. "I love you," he says to her ear in the beat of stillness. And it is not the silk, but her inner self, the parts she feared as much as those she liked, that let him know her, let her be human for him.
He helps her with his garments. They are daunting.
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Her hands rest on his bare chest as she kisses his cheek again. She knows he is terribly uncomfortable with being unclothed and uses her attention to his face as a remedy to that. She undoes the last button and slides his shirt back off his shoulders and arms.
Daisy steps out of her heels and kicks them to the side. Her arms move around Severus' neck; she is almost a foot shorter than him now. Her eyes lock with his and she smiles casually.
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Then the shirt is gone, his private Mark exposed. He reaches down and scoops her up into his arms, her warm silk against his his bare chest, and carries her to the bed. "This feels so good. And you feel so nice." The simplest sentences. He is quiet a second, cradling her. "Daisy, this is lovely. It is all right." He is shy but excited; he will not flee and he hopes he will not be foolish.
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She lays down in bed, pulling the covers back for Severus to join her. Curling in a partial fetal position, she smiles up at him lovingly, patting the mattress space closest to her. "Come on, I want my surprise. I'm terribly impatient. I've been waiting all day." She laughs quietly.
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"There is something magic - wonderful magic! It is called a Pensieve. I have one - they are rare - to hold my memories safe when they are a risk in my mind. You know I was a spy an even occlumency is not infallible. One can take one's memories, store them safe, preserve them after one passes away. One can show them to others, to prove one's innocence perhaps. What happens is that you can look into the Pensieve, with the memories in it and then enter them as the person experienced them." He is excited.
"I've never heard of anyone using it other than professionsally. But I just thought..." He looks at her in the gold light. "I just thought perhaps we could use it, so you could see me, as a boy, at times when I was happy. You could see it all truly!
"It's so personal, I wouldn't ask you to show me, or expect it from you - I am familiar with it. But you could show me too if you wished to, when you saw what it was, what it was like."
He is talking too much. He curls over closer to her to be warm for her.
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She pulls back a bit at stares at him flirtatiously. "I also like you without as much on. Much more cuddlier and..." she rubs her hands over the muscles in his arms, "Manlier, even." She tangles her bare feet with his, yearning for more contact with his skin, so rarely seen. It's some sort of miracle that she can get him this comfortable, she thinks.
"Tell me something, Sev. Anything. I love it when you talk to me." She mumbles against his chest, trying to get sleepy, but doing just the opposite with Severus so close.
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"Once upon a time," He begins. But no one has ever told him faerie tales. He makes up what should have happened to him.
"Once upon a time, there was a little family - a boy and his mother and father. They lived in a warm little house in a field at the edge of a village. And the father had a little shop in the village where he made watches, and clockwork toys, because he was good with his hands.
"And the mother had a workroom in the house where she invented potions for all the fine wizards she knew. And sometimes they would come to visit the little house when the potions were done, and give the boy magical sweets, patting him on the head and telling him to study hard. The mother let the boy help to make the potions, and taught him all she knew so that they could work together.
"On the weekends she made them clothes and she would sing while she knitted and sewed, and the boy made steak with mushrooms on those nights, because he was very good at potions, and cooking as well.
"Sometimes the father took the little boy to his shop, and while he worked the boy made magic wizard lights for his father, and moved them about so he could see better, and sometimes he would make the toys his father made work themselves just for fun. Then they would laugh and afterwards he would carry his son home on his shoulders. In the evenings they would watch a television program - just one every night, because the father was a muggle and he liked to watch television.
"Sometimes on weekends, the boy's father would take him to their friend's house and they would watch a football game, because his father was a muggle and liked football. Then the boy would lie on his stomach on the carpet with the other boys and play boardgames with his father's friends sons. And when they had finished, they would play outside - tag and hide and seek until it was dark.
"On the most special days, the boy's mother would invite her friends from school, and they would talk about the wizarding world. Then the boy was quiet and listened rapt while he learned what his life would be. And they brought butterbeer with them and the boy was allowed to drink just a little, and everyone said what a good quiet attentive boy he was, and what a fine wizard he would become. And at these times his father would bring little tarts and pudding in glass bowls for everyone to eat, and he would smile and tend the fire.
"And the boy grew up and went to school. His parents wrote every week and signed the owls together, and often they sent little things they knew he would like - a wind-up frog, or a bag for a potions vial, a special pencil because the boy liked to draw. And he answered them, sent pictures, little stories, samples of potions he had made.
"He made potions when he left school, and invented spells, and he built a fine house in the field next to his parent's little house. And in the holidays from school, the friends that he made at school sent their children to stay with him so that he could teach them to create their own wonderful spells and potions. And they visited him there as well, and at the end of each summer, he went on a holiday to visit a different country with his friends. And his parents kept working at their own creations because they loved them. And when the boy went on holiday he made sure they were also able to go by themselves to an hotel by the sea where they had been very happy when they were young before the boy was born.
"And they all lived happily ever after."
He holds Daisy close, quiet when he finishes. His heart is beating in his ears again. Dreams. They would tell her about himself. She is with him. He holds her close and strokes her hair. The Mark is visible on his arm even in the subtle light, the sparse black hair there stands out against his white skin. The softness of her delicate skin is against his naked chest. His chest. "I love you." He whispers it so softly. "Thank you."
He sets little lights around them again - green and silver.
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She sits up slightly, leaning on one arm, the other placed gently on Severus' chest, as she has pushed him on his back. She kisses his lips softly, pulling back after a moment and continues her question. "Does the boy ever fall in love or does he travel alone forever? He has his friends, yes, but they too must leave him sometime. Does he have, maybe, some sort of girl in his life?" She smiles, running her hand down the side of his face before kissing him again.
"And I love you too, Sev." She whispers back, her face suddenly twinkling by the glow of the silver and green lights.
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Enchanted, he looks up at her, the shape of her face framed and her eyes sparkling in the little lights. Even though the blankets will fall uncovering, he sits up and takes her face in both his hand and kisses her, gently and deeply.
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When Severus sits up, Daisy follows and kisses him back as deeply, if not more so. Her fingers entangle themselves into his hair, and tugs slightly, trying to get him as close to her as possible. She attempts her tongue against Severus' lips again to see if the outcome is different. He seems more daring now.
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Marriage and churches? They had not helped his parents. Misery had only been one small element of the Snape family experience. But happily ever after. That is better. Severus thinks of Abraxas smiling at him, as he is here with Dasiy.
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"Oh Daisy." At the more tender kisses opens his eyes, moves perhaps an inch back to look at her face, the lashes of her eyes so near to his. He smiles, his own eyes crinkling in their shadows. And returns back the soft exchange of their lips.
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