DESPERADO (6)
Title: Desperado
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: It may be raining, but there’s a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it’s too late
Pairing: Severus Snape/OFC
Rating: What about Teen?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: This story has been written out of fan-appreciation. I own nothing but the characters I invented (clearly not Snape, Harry Potter, Dumbledore ecc.) and the poor excuse for a plot I patched together.
1. The Man Who Couldn't Cry
2. Take Me As I Am
3. It Gives Me Thrills To Wind You Up
4. I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face
5. Dirty Little Secret
The first part was betaed by anti_social_ite. She's a brilliant beta and shouldn't be blamed for all those spelling and grammar atrocities I must have committed writing the rest of the chapter. It's just that I've grown impatient, which is typically me btw. Sorry, hon'.
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” Neil Gaiman
Avada Kedavra,” she finally said with a shaky voice. A green flash shot out of her wand, engulfing the poor little mouse at her feet that was squirming in agony. After having been hit by her spell, it just lay there, completely still, its limbs twisted in an odd ankle. She sniffled, then could no longer suppress her tears and let out a hiccupping sob. The wand slipped from her fingers and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.
She could not do this. It was simply too much. It was one thing reading books about the Dark Arts, but actually performing those spells, well, that was just plain unthinkable. She didn’t even kill spiders for Christ’s sake! She was one of those people who scooped them up in her hand to release them into the garden. Sometimes she even gave them names and peacefully coexisted with them inside her flat. Yes, of course, she was aware of completely acting like Miss Goody Two Shoes, but she just couldn’t bring herself to squish them with a rolled up newspaper.
Hypocrite! She was such a goddamned hypocrite! There she sat sobbing her heart out over a dead mouse and while she had sworn eternal vengeance to the two Death Eaters who were responsible for putting her aunt into a coma. If she already had trouble killing a mouse, she surely wouldn’t be able to kill a human being. But she had to be sure about what she did. She couldn’t afford making any mistakes or she would be dead in a blink of an eye. Those two bastards were clever and they had even been able to better her aunt. What she lacked in skills she had to make up in determination. Of course, being well-prepared was also essential.
When she raised her head, the dead mouse was still lying there motionless. She couldn’t help it. She still felt sorry for it. New tears were welling up in her eyes. It was better if she shed them all now, because later would be neither the time nor the place for remorse.
*
He was still bent over the forth years’ essays on the various uses of grounded scarab beetle, when he heard her knock at the door. She was early. He quickly laid his quill aside to open the door for her. It swung open revealing a puffy eyed young woman who was looking at him somewhat insecurely.
“What happened?” he asked instead of a greeting.
“Nothing,” Abby said sniffling a little.
He softly grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and dragged her inside the room. He’d rather not discuss this in the corridor. “Sure. Try again.”
“Really. It’s nothing. I’m perfectly alright.”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “I didn’t know that perfectly alright also included crying your heart out.”
“I haven’t cry my heart out,” she snapped.
“Well, this sudden change of roles sure is amusing. But if I recall correctly, I’m usually the irritable one,” it was one of his seldom attempts at sarcasm free humour, but unfortunately it was completely lost on her at the moment.
She raised her chin stubbornly, turning her head to stare past him. Fine, so she wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Sit,” he ordered brusquely, indicating the chair that was standing opposite of his on the other side of the desk. She did so reluctantly, crossing her arms over her chest, while he busied himself with the grading essays again.
For awhile the only sounds inside the room was the rustling of paper and the sound of his quill as it left determined lines of red ink on it. Finally she spoke again “Severus?”
“Yes.”
“Can we talk?”
He sighed. “We could have talked a few minutes ago.”
“This isn’t easy for me…”
“I’ve noticed,” he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.
“You won’t like this.”
“I assumed as much from the beginning.”
“It isn’t about us.”
“Good. Reassuring even. So what is it about?” His voice was emotionless and offensively matter-of-fact, which miffed her a little bit.
“It’s about me. Me and my aunt,” she sighed, running her hand through her hair. There was a cut on her palm. It was fresh and angry red.
His chair screeched loudly, as it was pushed back abruptly. “You’ve been using blood magic.” In the blink of an eye he had glided around the table and captured her wrist in his hand, dragging her to her feet in the process. He inspected the wound curiously, then looked at her, his eyes dark and piercing.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. There was no use denying it.
“You should know it’s extremely dangerous. One little miscalculation and the consequences could be dire.” His long fingers were still firmly wrapped around her wrist. Though his touch wasn’t brutal, it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
“I’m aware of that.”
“So why have you been messing with things you clearly should not have been messing with?” he hissed at her.
What was she supposed to answer to that? Maybe that she wanted revenge? Saying it in his face, seemed so utterly ridiculous now, but then again it had been constantly occupying her thoughts in the last couple of months. Except for the time she had spent with him. Except for that. When she was with him it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“I want revenge,” she finally confessed, almost embarrassedly.
He let her hand drop as if he had been burned and took a step back, peering at her sternly.
“Don’t you understand?” she pleaded with him. “They never did anything about it. They never even moved a finger to catch the people who did this to her!”
“Even if you’d be able to find them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Let’s just say it strikes me as a very bad idea. You’re not exactly an expert when it comes to spells. Not to speak of the Dark Arts. It takes years to fully master them.”
“I’ve been practising,” she said defiantly.
“They’ve been killing,” he retorted.
“What do you expect me to do? Just sit around idly, while they are still at large?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to do,” he took a step towards her. She retreated. “Let someone else take care of it.”
“Who? There’s no one else but me.”
“What about the Aurors or the Ministry?”
“I’ve already tried. They won’t do anything about it.”
“I won’t let you do it.” He had her backed against the wall now, there was no way out for her.
“You don’t understand,” she tried to reason with him.
He regarded her, tilting his head to the left. His movements had something positively serpentine to it. “Explain.”
“She was the one who always so supported me. How do you think I could afford opening a bookshop in Diagon Alley? Only because she leant me the money, that’s why. She always believed in me, no matter how stupid or crazy my plans seemed at first.”
“Abigail, you will not do this! No matter what you tell me. No matter what heart-warming tell you drag out into the open! It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you,” his eyes were sparkling dangerously now. “Promise me you won’t do it. Promise me!” His voice was demanding, unheeding of any protest.
“I can’t.”
“You must.”
“I can’t,” she repeated more insistently. “Don’t you understand? This is something I have to do. If I don’t, it will feel like I'm letting her down.”
“Why? Why do you want revenge? There’s no satisfaction to be had from it. It doesn’t turn back the clock, it doesn’t undo injustice. Nothing can. Do you honestly believe it will make you feel any better?”
“You can’t talk me out of it.”
His face contorted into a sneer. He pushed off the wall and whirled around, his robes whipping against her legs. After a few angry steps he came to a sudden halt, his body vibrating with suppressed anger. With an angry growled he pushed over the chair she had been sitting in moments ago.
She watched him anxiously, glued to her spot leaning against the wall. He was breathing heavily, his hands flexing and unflexing. When he had finally calmed a little, he turned around again. The expression on his face was unreadable. The absolute lack of emotion she saw there was frightening her a little.
“Let me come with you.”
“No.”
“Abigail,” he snarled, having finally reached to the end of his tether.
“I don’t want you to do anything that will weigh on your conscience. You already have enough to deal with,” her tone was matter-of-factly.
“It also will weigh heavily on my conscience if you’re dead.”
“This is not your fight.”
“How could it not be when you’re involved?”
“Severus…,” she said exasperatedly.
“Abigail…”
“Just promise me you will tell me once you know their whereabouts. I don’t want you to go on your own.”
“And what will you do there?”
“Watch your back. Make sure you stay alive,” he suggested.
“That’s too much to ask. I can’t expect you to…”
“Just ask me to and I will,” he interrupted her.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “So will you promise to tell me?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Do it already!” he commanded harshly.
“Alright,” she whispered, then repeated it again a little louder. “Alright.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry to drag you into this.”
“I thought we’ve already been over this,” he rolled his eyes in irritation. “You’re not dragging me into this. I want to help you.”
She offered him a shy smile. “When did you suddenly become so nice?”
He let out a sarcastic snort. “Oh, please. This is just a plain and simple display of egoism. I just don’t want you to get killed.”
“Why?”
“I’m very humanitarian,” he said smirking at her humourlessly.
“Right,” she snorted. “Is that all?”
He pondered her question momentarily. “It’s all I’m going to say.”
“But…”
“You know as well as I that pestering me with more questions is not only pointless, but also highly annoying. I think we can put both of our time to better use by taking care of your hand,” he said neatly evading her next question.
“It’s just a cut. Nothing major,” she waved him off.
He let out a frustrated growl. He wasn’t in the mood for yet another battle of wits, so he simply grabbed her by her intact hand and dragged her after him unceremoniously. Abby was surprised, but protested only mildly.
The potions lab was just through the adjoining door, so they didn’t have to go far. He let go off her hand and motioned her to sit on the wooden stool that was standing next to the work bench, before he busied himself looking for the flask with the cut-healing ointment. It didn’t take long for him to find it. Every potion was neatly labelled and he always put them back in their place whenever he had used them. Disorder was something he hated passionately.
She extended her hurt hand to him willingly, looking positively innocent and lamblike, but he knew for a fact that she wasn’t. He dipped his fingertips into the ointment and started rubbing it carefully onto her skin. Slow circular motions, minimal pressure.
“Better now?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said softly, looking at him from under her eyelashes. He was yet to let go of her hand.
They both stayed like that for a moment motionlessly. Two days had passed since they had last seen each other. Two days since their first kiss. It was a delicate moment. In a way decisive, because they would have to acknowledge what had happened before. Another kiss would bring them closer to something akin to a real relationship, making it impossible for them to wave off their actions as a temporary folly. If they let the moment pass, they might possibly regret it later. A lot of things would have to be reconsidered, they’d have to talk. There would be disillusionment and frustration - ghastly things.
He didn’t know what had come over him, maybe the last remnants of fading anger or maybe it was simply the thought of losing her that made him to kiss her again. He usually wasn’t the type to make the first move. Actually, when it came to relationship he had yet to find out how he’d react to certain things - to a lot of things.
If she had needed any reaffirmation that what had happened two days ago wasn’t just some foggy day dream, she had made up because she had an utter crush on him, this would have probably been it. This time his kiss was neither awkward nor hesitant. The clumsiness from before was gone, replaced by a lot more self-assuredness and intent. He was enjoying kissing her. His usual façade of detachment was slipping, revealing what lay underneath - raw, intense emotions that had been buried for years, only to emerge stronger than before. For once he did not hold back, did not hide behind lies. He wanted her, desired her even and all that poured into the kiss. It was making her feel a little dizzy, amazed, mesmerized and above all ecstatic.
She was breathless when he finally drew back a little, his long fingers still tangled in her hair.
“You’re uncharacteristically silent all of a sudden,” he said with a smug grin on his face.
“Well, I…,” she blinked a couple of times. It felt like her vision had gone foggy. “I’m just surprised. Yes, that’s it. Remember what I said about us having to practise? Well, you've just proofed that we certainly don’t need it, though it would be fun, most definitely.”
“Only fun?” he raised an eyebrow. Apparently he was enjoying himself far too much.
“Are you teasing me?” she laughed.
“What if I am?”
“I don’t know? I suppose hell would freeze over, we would have to start thinking about investing our money in asbestos umbrellas, because of the oncoming rain of fire and what not. The sky would most likely darken…Oh, and there would be lots of frogs and crickets. Definitely crickets as well. It just wouldn’t be a proper apocalypse without them, right?”
“Is there a reason why you’re suddenly talking all this nonsense?”
“You’re making me sort of giddy, I guess,” she admitted, blushing a little. “Is that a crime? Are you going to start taking House points now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re not a student. You don’t even have a House,” he pointed out.
“Right. Besides considering my father was a Slytherin, it would probably mean taking points from your own House anyway,” she pointed out.
“Personally, my bet would be Ravenclaw.”
“You know I’m beginning to become offended.”
“Because I’ve called you a Ravenclaw? Not everybody can be a Slytherin,” he said with a certain malicious satisfaction.
“No, because you’re still frighteningly coherent, which means I probably didn’t snog you right.”
“I doubt you can manage making me incoherent with just a kiss.”
“Severus, how many times in your life have you been snogged senseless, honestly?”
“Not a lot,” his voice was positively chill when he said that. The lack of emotion he displayed, the fact that he didn’t even seem to regret having missed out on that experience, told her a lot more about him than he had probably wanted to tell her. Had he never made out with a girl when he was a teenager? Never snuck off to some dark corner to plant a good one on the girl he fancied? No, it was Severus Snape she was talking about. He probably hadn’t. She could just imagine him as a teenager. The same sort of scowl on his face, lanky, slender, mostly consistent of bony knees and elbows. His particular charms worked on her, but she could imagine that regular teenage girls didn’t exactly swoon over broody, complicated and sarcastic. But she sure did.
“I like a good challenge,” she threw him a mysterious little half smile, then got to her feet.
“What are you up to?” he asked worriedly.
“I told you. Snogging you senseless,” she placed her hands on his chest, her fingers softly digging into the material his robes. She slowly pulled him closer.
A weak protest along the lines of “don’t be silly” was all he was capable of. He let it happen, mainly because he was immensely curious of the outcome.
She nuzzled his face, rubbing her cheek against his. Only the slightest trace of stubble there. She turned her head ever so slightly. Her hot breath fanned against his cool skin and made it prickle. Then her lips descended on it, slowly working its way to his mouth.
“You’re cheating,” he whispered, his voice velvety and low.
“This isn’t cheating. This is doing it properly.”
She teasingly kissed him, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth ever so slightly when she drew back, which elicited a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers were caressing the sides of his face. Featherlike touches that made the hair at the back of his neck stand up. He knew all too well what she was doing. She was tempting him to the point until he could no longer resist her. His chances were slim at best. Right from the start, from the moment he had first met her, he had never been able to say ‘no’ to her.
The next kiss was longer. Her lips were caressing his tenderly, but above all sensually. When her fingers started stroking the nape of his neck his breaking point was reached. What happened after he could only describe in terms of sensations. How her lips had felt against his, how she had thrown him those little smiles in between kisses that let his insides tingle.
“Still feeling coherent?” Abby asked with a lazy smile afterwards.
“Not now. No.”
“Good.” She grinned contently.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Summary: It may be raining, but there’s a rainbow above you
You better let somebody love you, before it’s too late
Pairing: Severus Snape/OFC
Rating: What about Teen?
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Disclaimer: This story has been written out of fan-appreciation. I own nothing but the characters I invented (clearly not Snape, Harry Potter, Dumbledore ecc.) and the poor excuse for a plot I patched together.
1. The Man Who Couldn't Cry
2. Take Me As I Am
3. It Gives Me Thrills To Wind You Up
4. I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face
5. Dirty Little Secret
The first part was betaed by anti_social_ite. She's a brilliant beta and shouldn't be blamed for all those spelling and grammar atrocities I must have committed writing the rest of the chapter. It's just that I've grown impatient, which is typically me btw. Sorry, hon'.
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” Neil Gaiman
Avada Kedavra,” she finally said with a shaky voice. A green flash shot out of her wand, engulfing the poor little mouse at her feet that was squirming in agony. After having been hit by her spell, it just lay there, completely still, its limbs twisted in an odd ankle. She sniffled, then could no longer suppress her tears and let out a hiccupping sob. The wand slipped from her fingers and fell on the floor with a loud clatter.
She could not do this. It was simply too much. It was one thing reading books about the Dark Arts, but actually performing those spells, well, that was just plain unthinkable. She didn’t even kill spiders for Christ’s sake! She was one of those people who scooped them up in her hand to release them into the garden. Sometimes she even gave them names and peacefully coexisted with them inside her flat. Yes, of course, she was aware of completely acting like Miss Goody Two Shoes, but she just couldn’t bring herself to squish them with a rolled up newspaper.
Hypocrite! She was such a goddamned hypocrite! There she sat sobbing her heart out over a dead mouse and while she had sworn eternal vengeance to the two Death Eaters who were responsible for putting her aunt into a coma. If she already had trouble killing a mouse, she surely wouldn’t be able to kill a human being. But she had to be sure about what she did. She couldn’t afford making any mistakes or she would be dead in a blink of an eye. Those two bastards were clever and they had even been able to better her aunt. What she lacked in skills she had to make up in determination. Of course, being well-prepared was also essential.
When she raised her head, the dead mouse was still lying there motionless. She couldn’t help it. She still felt sorry for it. New tears were welling up in her eyes. It was better if she shed them all now, because later would be neither the time nor the place for remorse.
*
He was still bent over the forth years’ essays on the various uses of grounded scarab beetle, when he heard her knock at the door. She was early. He quickly laid his quill aside to open the door for her. It swung open revealing a puffy eyed young woman who was looking at him somewhat insecurely.
“What happened?” he asked instead of a greeting.
“Nothing,” Abby said sniffling a little.
He softly grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and dragged her inside the room. He’d rather not discuss this in the corridor. “Sure. Try again.”
“Really. It’s nothing. I’m perfectly alright.”
He raised his eyebrow at her. “I didn’t know that perfectly alright also included crying your heart out.”
“I haven’t cry my heart out,” she snapped.
“Well, this sudden change of roles sure is amusing. But if I recall correctly, I’m usually the irritable one,” it was one of his seldom attempts at sarcasm free humour, but unfortunately it was completely lost on her at the moment.
She raised her chin stubbornly, turning her head to stare past him. Fine, so she wasn’t in the mood to talk.
“Sit,” he ordered brusquely, indicating the chair that was standing opposite of his on the other side of the desk. She did so reluctantly, crossing her arms over her chest, while he busied himself with the grading essays again.
For awhile the only sounds inside the room was the rustling of paper and the sound of his quill as it left determined lines of red ink on it. Finally she spoke again “Severus?”
“Yes.”
“Can we talk?”
He sighed. “We could have talked a few minutes ago.”
“This isn’t easy for me…”
“I’ve noticed,” he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap.
“You won’t like this.”
“I assumed as much from the beginning.”
“It isn’t about us.”
“Good. Reassuring even. So what is it about?” His voice was emotionless and offensively matter-of-fact, which miffed her a little bit.
“It’s about me. Me and my aunt,” she sighed, running her hand through her hair. There was a cut on her palm. It was fresh and angry red.
His chair screeched loudly, as it was pushed back abruptly. “You’ve been using blood magic.” In the blink of an eye he had glided around the table and captured her wrist in his hand, dragging her to her feet in the process. He inspected the wound curiously, then looked at her, his eyes dark and piercing.
“Yes,” she said hesitantly. There was no use denying it.
“You should know it’s extremely dangerous. One little miscalculation and the consequences could be dire.” His long fingers were still firmly wrapped around her wrist. Though his touch wasn’t brutal, it wasn’t exactly pleasant either.
“I’m aware of that.”
“So why have you been messing with things you clearly should not have been messing with?” he hissed at her.
What was she supposed to answer to that? Maybe that she wanted revenge? Saying it in his face, seemed so utterly ridiculous now, but then again it had been constantly occupying her thoughts in the last couple of months. Except for the time she had spent with him. Except for that. When she was with him it didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“I want revenge,” she finally confessed, almost embarrassedly.
He let her hand drop as if he had been burned and took a step back, peering at her sternly.
“Don’t you understand?” she pleaded with him. “They never did anything about it. They never even moved a finger to catch the people who did this to her!”
“Even if you’d be able to find them, they’d kill you in a heartbeat.”
“What makes you so sure of that?”
“Let’s just say it strikes me as a very bad idea. You’re not exactly an expert when it comes to spells. Not to speak of the Dark Arts. It takes years to fully master them.”
“I’ve been practising,” she said defiantly.
“They’ve been killing,” he retorted.
“What do you expect me to do? Just sit around idly, while they are still at large?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I expect you to do,” he took a step towards her. She retreated. “Let someone else take care of it.”
“Who? There’s no one else but me.”
“What about the Aurors or the Ministry?”
“I’ve already tried. They won’t do anything about it.”
“I won’t let you do it.” He had her backed against the wall now, there was no way out for her.
“You don’t understand,” she tried to reason with him.
He regarded her, tilting his head to the left. His movements had something positively serpentine to it. “Explain.”
“She was the one who always so supported me. How do you think I could afford opening a bookshop in Diagon Alley? Only because she leant me the money, that’s why. She always believed in me, no matter how stupid or crazy my plans seemed at first.”
“Abigail, you will not do this! No matter what you tell me. No matter what heart-warming tell you drag out into the open! It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you,” his eyes were sparkling dangerously now. “Promise me you won’t do it. Promise me!” His voice was demanding, unheeding of any protest.
“I can’t.”
“You must.”
“I can’t,” she repeated more insistently. “Don’t you understand? This is something I have to do. If I don’t, it will feel like I'm letting her down.”
“Why? Why do you want revenge? There’s no satisfaction to be had from it. It doesn’t turn back the clock, it doesn’t undo injustice. Nothing can. Do you honestly believe it will make you feel any better?”
“You can’t talk me out of it.”
His face contorted into a sneer. He pushed off the wall and whirled around, his robes whipping against her legs. After a few angry steps he came to a sudden halt, his body vibrating with suppressed anger. With an angry growled he pushed over the chair she had been sitting in moments ago.
She watched him anxiously, glued to her spot leaning against the wall. He was breathing heavily, his hands flexing and unflexing. When he had finally calmed a little, he turned around again. The expression on his face was unreadable. The absolute lack of emotion she saw there was frightening her a little.
“Let me come with you.”
“No.”
“Abigail,” he snarled, having finally reached to the end of his tether.
“I don’t want you to do anything that will weigh on your conscience. You already have enough to deal with,” her tone was matter-of-factly.
“It also will weigh heavily on my conscience if you’re dead.”
“This is not your fight.”
“How could it not be when you’re involved?”
“Severus…,” she said exasperatedly.
“Abigail…”
“Just promise me you will tell me once you know their whereabouts. I don’t want you to go on your own.”
“And what will you do there?”
“Watch your back. Make sure you stay alive,” he suggested.
“That’s too much to ask. I can’t expect you to…”
“Just ask me to and I will,” he interrupted her.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “So will you promise to tell me?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“Do it already!” he commanded harshly.
“Alright,” she whispered, then repeated it again a little louder. “Alright.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry to drag you into this.”
“I thought we’ve already been over this,” he rolled his eyes in irritation. “You’re not dragging me into this. I want to help you.”
She offered him a shy smile. “When did you suddenly become so nice?”
He let out a sarcastic snort. “Oh, please. This is just a plain and simple display of egoism. I just don’t want you to get killed.”
“Why?”
“I’m very humanitarian,” he said smirking at her humourlessly.
“Right,” she snorted. “Is that all?”
He pondered her question momentarily. “It’s all I’m going to say.”
“But…”
“You know as well as I that pestering me with more questions is not only pointless, but also highly annoying. I think we can put both of our time to better use by taking care of your hand,” he said neatly evading her next question.
“It’s just a cut. Nothing major,” she waved him off.
He let out a frustrated growl. He wasn’t in the mood for yet another battle of wits, so he simply grabbed her by her intact hand and dragged her after him unceremoniously. Abby was surprised, but protested only mildly.
The potions lab was just through the adjoining door, so they didn’t have to go far. He let go off her hand and motioned her to sit on the wooden stool that was standing next to the work bench, before he busied himself looking for the flask with the cut-healing ointment. It didn’t take long for him to find it. Every potion was neatly labelled and he always put them back in their place whenever he had used them. Disorder was something he hated passionately.
She extended her hurt hand to him willingly, looking positively innocent and lamblike, but he knew for a fact that she wasn’t. He dipped his fingertips into the ointment and started rubbing it carefully onto her skin. Slow circular motions, minimal pressure.
“Better now?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said softly, looking at him from under her eyelashes. He was yet to let go of her hand.
They both stayed like that for a moment motionlessly. Two days had passed since they had last seen each other. Two days since their first kiss. It was a delicate moment. In a way decisive, because they would have to acknowledge what had happened before. Another kiss would bring them closer to something akin to a real relationship, making it impossible for them to wave off their actions as a temporary folly. If they let the moment pass, they might possibly regret it later. A lot of things would have to be reconsidered, they’d have to talk. There would be disillusionment and frustration - ghastly things.
He didn’t know what had come over him, maybe the last remnants of fading anger or maybe it was simply the thought of losing her that made him to kiss her again. He usually wasn’t the type to make the first move. Actually, when it came to relationship he had yet to find out how he’d react to certain things - to a lot of things.
If she had needed any reaffirmation that what had happened two days ago wasn’t just some foggy day dream, she had made up because she had an utter crush on him, this would have probably been it. This time his kiss was neither awkward nor hesitant. The clumsiness from before was gone, replaced by a lot more self-assuredness and intent. He was enjoying kissing her. His usual façade of detachment was slipping, revealing what lay underneath - raw, intense emotions that had been buried for years, only to emerge stronger than before. For once he did not hold back, did not hide behind lies. He wanted her, desired her even and all that poured into the kiss. It was making her feel a little dizzy, amazed, mesmerized and above all ecstatic.
She was breathless when he finally drew back a little, his long fingers still tangled in her hair.
“You’re uncharacteristically silent all of a sudden,” he said with a smug grin on his face.
“Well, I…,” she blinked a couple of times. It felt like her vision had gone foggy. “I’m just surprised. Yes, that’s it. Remember what I said about us having to practise? Well, you've just proofed that we certainly don’t need it, though it would be fun, most definitely.”
“Only fun?” he raised an eyebrow. Apparently he was enjoying himself far too much.
“Are you teasing me?” she laughed.
“What if I am?”
“I don’t know? I suppose hell would freeze over, we would have to start thinking about investing our money in asbestos umbrellas, because of the oncoming rain of fire and what not. The sky would most likely darken…Oh, and there would be lots of frogs and crickets. Definitely crickets as well. It just wouldn’t be a proper apocalypse without them, right?”
“Is there a reason why you’re suddenly talking all this nonsense?”
“You’re making me sort of giddy, I guess,” she admitted, blushing a little. “Is that a crime? Are you going to start taking House points now?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re not a student. You don’t even have a House,” he pointed out.
“Right. Besides considering my father was a Slytherin, it would probably mean taking points from your own House anyway,” she pointed out.
“Personally, my bet would be Ravenclaw.”
“You know I’m beginning to become offended.”
“Because I’ve called you a Ravenclaw? Not everybody can be a Slytherin,” he said with a certain malicious satisfaction.
“No, because you’re still frighteningly coherent, which means I probably didn’t snog you right.”
“I doubt you can manage making me incoherent with just a kiss.”
“Severus, how many times in your life have you been snogged senseless, honestly?”
“Not a lot,” his voice was positively chill when he said that. The lack of emotion he displayed, the fact that he didn’t even seem to regret having missed out on that experience, told her a lot more about him than he had probably wanted to tell her. Had he never made out with a girl when he was a teenager? Never snuck off to some dark corner to plant a good one on the girl he fancied? No, it was Severus Snape she was talking about. He probably hadn’t. She could just imagine him as a teenager. The same sort of scowl on his face, lanky, slender, mostly consistent of bony knees and elbows. His particular charms worked on her, but she could imagine that regular teenage girls didn’t exactly swoon over broody, complicated and sarcastic. But she sure did.
“I like a good challenge,” she threw him a mysterious little half smile, then got to her feet.
“What are you up to?” he asked worriedly.
“I told you. Snogging you senseless,” she placed her hands on his chest, her fingers softly digging into the material his robes. She slowly pulled him closer.
A weak protest along the lines of “don’t be silly” was all he was capable of. He let it happen, mainly because he was immensely curious of the outcome.
She nuzzled his face, rubbing her cheek against his. Only the slightest trace of stubble there. She turned her head ever so slightly. Her hot breath fanned against his cool skin and made it prickle. Then her lips descended on it, slowly working its way to his mouth.
“You’re cheating,” he whispered, his voice velvety and low.
“This isn’t cheating. This is doing it properly.”
She teasingly kissed him, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth ever so slightly when she drew back, which elicited a sharp intake of breath. Her fingers were caressing the sides of his face. Featherlike touches that made the hair at the back of his neck stand up. He knew all too well what she was doing. She was tempting him to the point until he could no longer resist her. His chances were slim at best. Right from the start, from the moment he had first met her, he had never been able to say ‘no’ to her.
The next kiss was longer. Her lips were caressing his tenderly, but above all sensually. When her fingers started stroking the nape of his neck his breaking point was reached. What happened after he could only describe in terms of sensations. How her lips had felt against his, how she had thrown him those little smiles in between kisses that let his insides tingle.
“Still feeling coherent?” Abby asked with a lazy smile afterwards.
“Not now. No.”
“Good.” She grinned contently.