Desperado (4)
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
LAMENT OF FEDERICO
It's the usual story of the shepherd ...
The poor boy wanted to say it,
but fell asleep.
In sleep there is oblivion.
How I envy him!
If only I could find sleep like this -
to find, at least, oblivion in my sleep!
I only want to find peace:
if only I could forget everything.
But all my struggle is in vain..
I still see her sweet face before me!
And peace has left me for ever...
why do I have to suffer so much pain?
She always speaks straight to my heart!
Oh fatal vision, leave me alone!
You wound me so much!
Oh poor me!
Francesco Cilea - L'ARLESIANA
Thank you anti_social_ite! You're an amazing beta.
She absent-mindedly adjusted her glasses, pouring over a book from the Dark Arts section. It dealt mainly with the Unforgivables. Like every witch and wizard, that had received proper schooling, she was familiar with the Avadar Kedvara and Cruciatus Curse. However, the spells this book talked about were much more malicious. They were not designed to kill, at least not immediately, but eventually they would all lead to a slow and rather painful death. It happened quite frequently that she had to shiver in disgust when she leafed through those pages. She couldn’t afford to be squeamish, though, if she wanted to go through with her plan.
A plan he was never to know about. Not if she could help it. It would spoil everything. Ruin the tentative friendship they had built. He would think she had only used him, even though she had never asked him anything about his time as a Death Eater. It was a deliberate decision. If he ever found out, he wouldn’t be able to accuse her of abusing his trust or pumping him for information.
She had long found out who had been her aunt’s attackers. Two Death Eathers named Avery Abbott and David Tennyson. They had gone around bragging shamelessly about their deeds. After all being able to best the Miriam Priestly was quite something. Unfortunately the Ministry of Magic hadn’t moved a finger to shut them up. Up until today they were at large. It was claimed their guilt could never been proven. Yeah, right! It was just too much trouble, having to send a bunch of Aurors after them, that was all. Since the war was now officially over, the Ministry seemed to be deaf on that ear. Better to sweep the gruesome past under the rug and move on to a fresh new start.
Abigail rubbed the bridge of her nose. The letters were starting to blur underneath her eyes. Maybe it was time to stop researching. She opened the cupboard in which the other Dark Arts books were safely stored away and put the tome back inside. The books were purring contently when they sensed her presence. Of course, they were. She fed them a couple of mice once a week, so that their hunger for flesh would be appeased. After that they were as peaceful as kittens.
After she had safely locked the cupboard, she ran her hands over her clothes, straightening them, trying to brush of the imaginary lint, she thought was there. Reading those books always left her feeling dirty. It cost her more strength than she thought, but after all it was not easy acting against one’s nature. Revenge had always been a concept that was completely alien to her. Up until that day…up until that day someone was hurt she cared about deeply.
There were few people she cared about. Her aunt, her mother, her friends…she stopped. Severus. Yes, she cared about him as well. It was okay to think it. It would even be okay to say it out loud. Just not to him. She tried to imagine his reaction and for some reason she couldn’t fathom it.
They talked about a lot of things, about philosophy, religion, politics, literature, life and death - things that were supposed to mean something. But in the end they didn’t. She knew him, but didn’t know him. Was it because he held back or because she did? The result was still the same. They were not close, not as close as she wanted to be.
It was absurd wanting something like that. Absurd to think he would let her in. For some idiotic reason she was hoping he would, because she wished she knew him better. When she looked at him she no longer saw the Death Eater, somewhere along the line he had become her friend. That multifaceted, wonderful, gruff, irritating man that sometimes smiled at her when she least expected it. Probably when he least expected it too.
He found himself thinking about her more than he should. It was a strange thing really and so very not like him to. At least that was what he was trying to tell himself.
The next morning he wordlessly swept into the potions class room, just as usually, and headed straight for the board. He reached for a piece of chalk. His hand was hovering over it for a moment indecisively. The thought of her rolled over him like a wave. He shook it off, finally able to overcome his hesitation. From there on everything took its usual course.
By noon he had almost convinced himself that it was some kind of strange momentary folly that had taken a hold of him. That was at least until he entered his potions lab down in the dungeons later that day. There on top of the work bench Bellini’s Compendium was lying, tempting him silently. He looked around the room for a moment helplessly. Then he left the room again with an annoyed huff, banging the door behind himself in the process. There was no limit to the frustration he felt.
If he ignored this feeling it would go away sooner or later. After all that was what he wanted. What he wanted? How much time had passed since he last thought about that? It had never been about what he wanted, because the things he most desired were gone, unreachable, and above all impossible. At some point he had stopped wanting. It was hard to start again so suddenly.
He decided that the wisest course of action would be not seeing her again. It would simplify matters considerably, but the thought alone made him feel glum. However irritating her emotionality, her enthusiasm and her laughter was to him, he had grown accustomed to it. Could he do without it? Of course, he could.
For three whole weeks they did neither see nor talk to each other. Until one day an owl arrived, soaring in through on of the windows of the Great Hall, only to land gracefully on the teachers’ table in front of Severus. He gave the animal a sceptical look, raising his eyebrow at it. It looked back, tilting its head to the left, observing him curiously. The bird could at best be described as insolent and that was what gave him a clue as to who had sent it.
It placed the small piece of paper it was holding in its peak on his still empty plate with something akin to cockiness and flew off abruptly. He watched the parchment for a while suspiciously, before he took it in his hand, slowly unrolling it. There was one single sentence written on it. No flowery words, just a simple honest statement, which would be his undoing.
“I miss you,” the parchment read. He recognized her hand immediately.
His first impulsive thought was I miss you too . Then he thought better of it and crumbled up the piece of paper.
The old-fashioned bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of another customer. She took a moment to compose herself, dealing with the Dark Arts usually put her in a less than cheery mood, then stepped out on the aisle to welcome the new arrival.
As usual Severus made a point out of turning up when she least expected him. Yet again there he was hovering in the doorframe somewhat indecisively.
Upon seeing him her bad mood was whisked away momentarily. “Oh, hi! I didn’t expect you…,” the ‘at all’ was unmistakably implied in the short pause that followed. “Come in! Come in!” she bubbled enthusiastically. He was there. He was really there.
“Hello,” he greeted her stiffly.
“So what brings you here?” she asked, trying hard to keep herself from breaking out into a smile.
“I…,” he stopped, apparently at a loss for words.
She waited for an appropriate amount of time to pass before she jumped to his rescue. “Okay, while you come up with a decent excuse for your visit, though you don’t really need an excuse to just drop by, I’m going to make us some tea. Fancy a cup?” She was talking very fast, probably thanks to the massive amounts coffee she had already drunken today, but then again maybe it was just plain nervousness.
“Beg you pardon?” he blinked for a couple of times looking at her confusedly.
“You. Me. Tea?” she repeated slowly, as if talking to a child.
“Alright. Lovely. Yes, thanks.” Apparently he wasn’t at the heights of his wits today either, because usually he would have lectured her on how he wasn’t stupid and had very well understood her the first time around.
She disappeared in the backroom behind the counter to prepare the before mentioned tea. “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be tea bags, if that’s alright with you?” she called out.
“Couldn’t you have warned me before?” was his response. She smiled to herself quietly. Oh, how she had missed him that smug, old bastard!
“Can’t you come in here? It’s kind of ridiculous screaming at each other across the shop at the top of our lungs.”
“I thought so too,” his voice suddenly was very close by. She flinched and whipped around. He was only standing a couple of inches from her, casually inspecting the mess that covered her desk from over her shoulder. It was a strange assortment of Muggle novels, spell books, loose pieces of papers she had scribbled on and bills. There were little isles in between on which there was just enough space for an empty cup or a half eaten chocolate bar.
She flushed a little, wishing she had given her impulsive decision about the tea a bit more thought. He wasn’t supposed to see this mess. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect any visitors.”
“Obviously.”
His response irritated her and made her feel embarrassed, so she decided to retaliate. “So why did you say you came again? Is there anything you needed?”
“I… had some businesses at Slug and Jiggers, so I decided to drop by.”
“Good cover-up,” she threw him a smug little smile. “Couldn’t you have just said you missed me and came to see me?” The only outward sign of her inner agitation were her hands that were trembling ever so slightly, when she placed the two cups on the table in front of her. She only prayed they would be steadier when she poured the tea.
“No,” he answered flatly.
“Charming,” Abigail retorted.
She drew her wand and pointed at the tea kettle, muttering a simple heating spell. He stepped closer watching her interestedly.
“What?”
“I’ve just never seen you use your wand. I half expected you to be a Squib.”
“I’m not a Squib. I just don’t use magic for everything, you know.”
“So your wand…From Olivander’s I assume?” he asked casually.
“Yes, 9 ½ inches, ebony. The core’s made out of kneazle hair. Nothing special. What about yours?”
“Mine…I’ve just gotten a new one.”
She smiled at him sweetly. “What? First day at school?”
“No, you see Voldemort has just tried to kill me,” sarcasm was practically oozing from that statement. “When I woke up I was informed it was gone, lost in the lieu of the battle -minor inconvenience.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Abigail said in all sincerity. A short moment passed before she continued talking again. “How’s the new one? Satisfactory?” When she said the last word, her tone was back to teasing again. It was a deliberate attempt to rip him out of his gloom mood.
“Stubborn.”
“Birds of a feather…”
“I didn’t come here to be insulted by you,” unfortunately she noticed to late that today he was rather quick to loose his temper.
“Wait, Severus,” by now honed in on his mood swings, she foresaw his next move and grabbed him by the wrist before he could storm off. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like this.”
For a moment he just stared at her taxingly, then nodded slowly.
“Really, you should only take me seriously fifty percent of the time, because I babble. It’s like all those short-circuit between my mouth and my brain get fried sometimes. I keep prattling on and on and it doesn’t really make sense and…,” as her eyes fell on her hand that was still wrapped around his wrist, she abruptly fell silent. What came as quite of surprise to him, and to her as well, was that she didn’t let go. Her index finger was lying just above his pulse and she could feel it speed up from a regular rhythm to an anxious drumming. His skin was warm, almost hot against her cold hands.
Up until now she had not been aware of the fact that they were standing so close. The seam of his robes was brushing against her trouser legs. She cautiously raised her head and looked at him. Usually his face was unreadable, but what she could see in it now was a mixture of surprise, curiosity and maybe even fear.
She slowly loosened her grip on his wrist, her fingers brushing over his skin in the process. Their touch was featherlike, almost like a caress. He shivered ever so slightly.
“Severus?” she said softly. “Did I do something wrong?”
It took him a while to answer and when he did it sounded rather strangled. “No.”
“Good,” she said softly.
The tea kettle behind them let out a shrill hoot, startling them both out of their reverie. Nevertheless neither one of them hurried to take care of it.
“Severus,” somehow the way she said his name had changed. It felt more intimate now, “I know you will hate this, but I just have to ask. Why did you really come?”
As expected he didn’t answer immediately. “I told you I had business…”
“Bollocks!” she cut him off harshly. He had already evaded this question twice. She had reached the end of her patience now.
His eyes narrowed to two dark slits. A disapproving scowl settled on his face. He didn’t like being interrupted.
“Just for once could you do me a favour and do not stall or deflect or do anything of the stuff you usually do in a situation like this?”
“Why?” he glared down at her in defiance.
“Because it’s utterly frustrated. That’s why!”
“Get used to it.”
She let out a raucous laugh and threw her hands up in frustration. “Fine, be like that! At least I won’t be able to say I haven’t tried.”
No reaction. How could he just stand there and not say anything?
Abigail massaged the bridge of her nose, feeling his eyes bore into her. This was simply too much! Who the hell did he think he was? “No, actually, come to think of it I think I won’t let it go this time. It would mean playing into your hands. Because that’s just what you want, isn’t it? Well, tough luck!” she glared at him. “Get over yourself already or do you want to retract into your little shell forever, so that nobody can reach you!?”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” he hissed.
“No, you don’t have to, but you will.” Thanks to her anger, she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. “Who’s going to tell you if not me?” she searched his face, finding an expressionless mask that was neither offering any encouragement to continue talking nor any discouragement. “Look, Severus, I just want to get to know you. Is that so hard to accept?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“I thought it was quite clear what I meant.”
“Apparently not.”
He rolled his eyes, annoyed that he actually had to spell it out for her. “Why would you want something like that?”
“I don’t know.” He could tell she was lying.
“Now you’re the one who’s stalling,” he said with a certain amount of satisfaction.
“I don’t think you want to hear,” she said defiantly.
“I’ve just asked, haven’t I?” he said in a tone rivalling her own.
Abigail hesitated for a second before she continued talking. “Good. Alright. I’ll tell you,” she took a deep breath. Somewhere along the line her anger had disappeared. “I like you.”
He looked genuinely surprised. As if it was hard for him to wrap his mind around the thought that someone actually enjoyed his company.
It had cost her a lot of courage getting those words out. Now she felt very vulnerable, as if a single word from him would be enough to crush her. Yet again she needed him to say something. “Severus?” she asked timidly
“Yes,” he said distractedly.
“Say something, please.”
Where was he to begin? Maybe by telling her that something as simple as her telling him that she liked him was enough to turn his whole world upside down? She was the first person in years to do so. He had never felt sorry for himself, never felt depend on the approval or the sympathy of over people. Then why was this making him so…happy?
He returned to the present. She was still waiting for him to answer. With each second that passed she looked a little more anxious, a little more uncomfortable. He hadn’t realized his opinion mattered that much to her.
“What am I supposed to say?” he finally managed to get out.
“Isn’t that obvious,” Abigail looked at him sadly.
It hurt his heart seeing her like that. “Well…I like you too,” he finally said, unable to find the right words to properly describe what he felt for her.
Abigail smiled at that, truly, genuinely. She smiled because of something he had said. He still had to wrap his mind around that concept.
Then, when he was already half-expecting her to ask another one of those exhaustingly personal questions, she simply changed topic. Maybe she had sensed his discomfort and taken pity of him. Whatever he it was he was thankful for it.
“So…where were we? Oh, yes. Tea?”
“Yes, please,” he said quickly.
He was wrinkled his nose in disapproval, when she produced the tea bags from a drawer in her desk.
“Anything wrong?”
“This is just plain barbaric. Don’t you have any proper tea?” Apparently he had already recovered from the shock of hearing her declare her sympathy for him. Falling back into their familiar banter was something that gave both of them a certain amount reassurance, so they happily took refuge in it.
“No, apparently not.”
“I’ll be quite happy to provide some next time I stop by. No one should be forced to drink something like this, at least not twice.”
TBC
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
LAMENT OF FEDERICO
It's the usual story of the shepherd ...
The poor boy wanted to say it,
but fell asleep.
In sleep there is oblivion.
How I envy him!
If only I could find sleep like this -
to find, at least, oblivion in my sleep!
I only want to find peace:
if only I could forget everything.
But all my struggle is in vain..
I still see her sweet face before me!
And peace has left me for ever...
why do I have to suffer so much pain?
She always speaks straight to my heart!
Oh fatal vision, leave me alone!
You wound me so much!
Oh poor me!
Francesco Cilea - L'ARLESIANA
Thank you anti_social_ite! You're an amazing beta.
She absent-mindedly adjusted her glasses, pouring over a book from the Dark Arts section. It dealt mainly with the Unforgivables. Like every witch and wizard, that had received proper schooling, she was familiar with the Avadar Kedvara and Cruciatus Curse. However, the spells this book talked about were much more malicious. They were not designed to kill, at least not immediately, but eventually they would all lead to a slow and rather painful death. It happened quite frequently that she had to shiver in disgust when she leafed through those pages. She couldn’t afford to be squeamish, though, if she wanted to go through with her plan.
A plan he was never to know about. Not if she could help it. It would spoil everything. Ruin the tentative friendship they had built. He would think she had only used him, even though she had never asked him anything about his time as a Death Eater. It was a deliberate decision. If he ever found out, he wouldn’t be able to accuse her of abusing his trust or pumping him for information.
She had long found out who had been her aunt’s attackers. Two Death Eathers named Avery Abbott and David Tennyson. They had gone around bragging shamelessly about their deeds. After all being able to best the Miriam Priestly was quite something. Unfortunately the Ministry of Magic hadn’t moved a finger to shut them up. Up until today they were at large. It was claimed their guilt could never been proven. Yeah, right! It was just too much trouble, having to send a bunch of Aurors after them, that was all. Since the war was now officially over, the Ministry seemed to be deaf on that ear. Better to sweep the gruesome past under the rug and move on to a fresh new start.
Abigail rubbed the bridge of her nose. The letters were starting to blur underneath her eyes. Maybe it was time to stop researching. She opened the cupboard in which the other Dark Arts books were safely stored away and put the tome back inside. The books were purring contently when they sensed her presence. Of course, they were. She fed them a couple of mice once a week, so that their hunger for flesh would be appeased. After that they were as peaceful as kittens.
After she had safely locked the cupboard, she ran her hands over her clothes, straightening them, trying to brush of the imaginary lint, she thought was there. Reading those books always left her feeling dirty. It cost her more strength than she thought, but after all it was not easy acting against one’s nature. Revenge had always been a concept that was completely alien to her. Up until that day…up until that day someone was hurt she cared about deeply.
There were few people she cared about. Her aunt, her mother, her friends…she stopped. Severus. Yes, she cared about him as well. It was okay to think it. It would even be okay to say it out loud. Just not to him. She tried to imagine his reaction and for some reason she couldn’t fathom it.
They talked about a lot of things, about philosophy, religion, politics, literature, life and death - things that were supposed to mean something. But in the end they didn’t. She knew him, but didn’t know him. Was it because he held back or because she did? The result was still the same. They were not close, not as close as she wanted to be.
It was absurd wanting something like that. Absurd to think he would let her in. For some idiotic reason she was hoping he would, because she wished she knew him better. When she looked at him she no longer saw the Death Eater, somewhere along the line he had become her friend. That multifaceted, wonderful, gruff, irritating man that sometimes smiled at her when she least expected it. Probably when he least expected it too.
He found himself thinking about her more than he should. It was a strange thing really and so very not like him to. At least that was what he was trying to tell himself.
The next morning he wordlessly swept into the potions class room, just as usually, and headed straight for the board. He reached for a piece of chalk. His hand was hovering over it for a moment indecisively. The thought of her rolled over him like a wave. He shook it off, finally able to overcome his hesitation. From there on everything took its usual course.
By noon he had almost convinced himself that it was some kind of strange momentary folly that had taken a hold of him. That was at least until he entered his potions lab down in the dungeons later that day. There on top of the work bench Bellini’s Compendium was lying, tempting him silently. He looked around the room for a moment helplessly. Then he left the room again with an annoyed huff, banging the door behind himself in the process. There was no limit to the frustration he felt.
If he ignored this feeling it would go away sooner or later. After all that was what he wanted. What he wanted? How much time had passed since he last thought about that? It had never been about what he wanted, because the things he most desired were gone, unreachable, and above all impossible. At some point he had stopped wanting. It was hard to start again so suddenly.
He decided that the wisest course of action would be not seeing her again. It would simplify matters considerably, but the thought alone made him feel glum. However irritating her emotionality, her enthusiasm and her laughter was to him, he had grown accustomed to it. Could he do without it? Of course, he could.
For three whole weeks they did neither see nor talk to each other. Until one day an owl arrived, soaring in through on of the windows of the Great Hall, only to land gracefully on the teachers’ table in front of Severus. He gave the animal a sceptical look, raising his eyebrow at it. It looked back, tilting its head to the left, observing him curiously. The bird could at best be described as insolent and that was what gave him a clue as to who had sent it.
It placed the small piece of paper it was holding in its peak on his still empty plate with something akin to cockiness and flew off abruptly. He watched the parchment for a while suspiciously, before he took it in his hand, slowly unrolling it. There was one single sentence written on it. No flowery words, just a simple honest statement, which would be his undoing.
“I miss you,” the parchment read. He recognized her hand immediately.
His first impulsive thought was I miss you too . Then he thought better of it and crumbled up the piece of paper.
The old-fashioned bell above the door rang, announcing the arrival of another customer. She took a moment to compose herself, dealing with the Dark Arts usually put her in a less than cheery mood, then stepped out on the aisle to welcome the new arrival.
As usual Severus made a point out of turning up when she least expected him. Yet again there he was hovering in the doorframe somewhat indecisively.
Upon seeing him her bad mood was whisked away momentarily. “Oh, hi! I didn’t expect you…,” the ‘at all’ was unmistakably implied in the short pause that followed. “Come in! Come in!” she bubbled enthusiastically. He was there. He was really there.
“Hello,” he greeted her stiffly.
“So what brings you here?” she asked, trying hard to keep herself from breaking out into a smile.
“I…,” he stopped, apparently at a loss for words.
She waited for an appropriate amount of time to pass before she jumped to his rescue. “Okay, while you come up with a decent excuse for your visit, though you don’t really need an excuse to just drop by, I’m going to make us some tea. Fancy a cup?” She was talking very fast, probably thanks to the massive amounts coffee she had already drunken today, but then again maybe it was just plain nervousness.
“Beg you pardon?” he blinked for a couple of times looking at her confusedly.
“You. Me. Tea?” she repeated slowly, as if talking to a child.
“Alright. Lovely. Yes, thanks.” Apparently he wasn’t at the heights of his wits today either, because usually he would have lectured her on how he wasn’t stupid and had very well understood her the first time around.
She disappeared in the backroom behind the counter to prepare the before mentioned tea. “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be tea bags, if that’s alright with you?” she called out.
“Couldn’t you have warned me before?” was his response. She smiled to herself quietly. Oh, how she had missed him that smug, old bastard!
“Can’t you come in here? It’s kind of ridiculous screaming at each other across the shop at the top of our lungs.”
“I thought so too,” his voice suddenly was very close by. She flinched and whipped around. He was only standing a couple of inches from her, casually inspecting the mess that covered her desk from over her shoulder. It was a strange assortment of Muggle novels, spell books, loose pieces of papers she had scribbled on and bills. There were little isles in between on which there was just enough space for an empty cup or a half eaten chocolate bar.
She flushed a little, wishing she had given her impulsive decision about the tea a bit more thought. He wasn’t supposed to see this mess. “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect any visitors.”
“Obviously.”
His response irritated her and made her feel embarrassed, so she decided to retaliate. “So why did you say you came again? Is there anything you needed?”
“I… had some businesses at Slug and Jiggers, so I decided to drop by.”
“Good cover-up,” she threw him a smug little smile. “Couldn’t you have just said you missed me and came to see me?” The only outward sign of her inner agitation were her hands that were trembling ever so slightly, when she placed the two cups on the table in front of her. She only prayed they would be steadier when she poured the tea.
“No,” he answered flatly.
“Charming,” Abigail retorted.
She drew her wand and pointed at the tea kettle, muttering a simple heating spell. He stepped closer watching her interestedly.
“What?”
“I’ve just never seen you use your wand. I half expected you to be a Squib.”
“I’m not a Squib. I just don’t use magic for everything, you know.”
“So your wand…From Olivander’s I assume?” he asked casually.
“Yes, 9 ½ inches, ebony. The core’s made out of kneazle hair. Nothing special. What about yours?”
“Mine…I’ve just gotten a new one.”
She smiled at him sweetly. “What? First day at school?”
“No, you see Voldemort has just tried to kill me,” sarcasm was practically oozing from that statement. “When I woke up I was informed it was gone, lost in the lieu of the battle -minor inconvenience.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Abigail said in all sincerity. A short moment passed before she continued talking again. “How’s the new one? Satisfactory?” When she said the last word, her tone was back to teasing again. It was a deliberate attempt to rip him out of his gloom mood.
“Stubborn.”
“Birds of a feather…”
“I didn’t come here to be insulted by you,” unfortunately she noticed to late that today he was rather quick to loose his temper.
“Wait, Severus,” by now honed in on his mood swings, she foresaw his next move and grabbed him by the wrist before he could storm off. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it like this.”
For a moment he just stared at her taxingly, then nodded slowly.
“Really, you should only take me seriously fifty percent of the time, because I babble. It’s like all those short-circuit between my mouth and my brain get fried sometimes. I keep prattling on and on and it doesn’t really make sense and…,” as her eyes fell on her hand that was still wrapped around his wrist, she abruptly fell silent. What came as quite of surprise to him, and to her as well, was that she didn’t let go. Her index finger was lying just above his pulse and she could feel it speed up from a regular rhythm to an anxious drumming. His skin was warm, almost hot against her cold hands.
Up until now she had not been aware of the fact that they were standing so close. The seam of his robes was brushing against her trouser legs. She cautiously raised her head and looked at him. Usually his face was unreadable, but what she could see in it now was a mixture of surprise, curiosity and maybe even fear.
She slowly loosened her grip on his wrist, her fingers brushing over his skin in the process. Their touch was featherlike, almost like a caress. He shivered ever so slightly.
“Severus?” she said softly. “Did I do something wrong?”
It took him a while to answer and when he did it sounded rather strangled. “No.”
“Good,” she said softly.
The tea kettle behind them let out a shrill hoot, startling them both out of their reverie. Nevertheless neither one of them hurried to take care of it.
“Severus,” somehow the way she said his name had changed. It felt more intimate now, “I know you will hate this, but I just have to ask. Why did you really come?”
As expected he didn’t answer immediately. “I told you I had business…”
“Bollocks!” she cut him off harshly. He had already evaded this question twice. She had reached the end of her patience now.
His eyes narrowed to two dark slits. A disapproving scowl settled on his face. He didn’t like being interrupted.
“Just for once could you do me a favour and do not stall or deflect or do anything of the stuff you usually do in a situation like this?”
“Why?” he glared down at her in defiance.
“Because it’s utterly frustrated. That’s why!”
“Get used to it.”
She let out a raucous laugh and threw her hands up in frustration. “Fine, be like that! At least I won’t be able to say I haven’t tried.”
No reaction. How could he just stand there and not say anything?
Abigail massaged the bridge of her nose, feeling his eyes bore into her. This was simply too much! Who the hell did he think he was? “No, actually, come to think of it I think I won’t let it go this time. It would mean playing into your hands. Because that’s just what you want, isn’t it? Well, tough luck!” she glared at him. “Get over yourself already or do you want to retract into your little shell forever, so that nobody can reach you!?”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” he hissed.
“No, you don’t have to, but you will.” Thanks to her anger, she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him. “Who’s going to tell you if not me?” she searched his face, finding an expressionless mask that was neither offering any encouragement to continue talking nor any discouragement. “Look, Severus, I just want to get to know you. Is that so hard to accept?”
“Why?”
“What do you mean why?”
“I thought it was quite clear what I meant.”
“Apparently not.”
He rolled his eyes, annoyed that he actually had to spell it out for her. “Why would you want something like that?”
“I don’t know.” He could tell she was lying.
“Now you’re the one who’s stalling,” he said with a certain amount of satisfaction.
“I don’t think you want to hear,” she said defiantly.
“I’ve just asked, haven’t I?” he said in a tone rivalling her own.
Abigail hesitated for a second before she continued talking. “Good. Alright. I’ll tell you,” she took a deep breath. Somewhere along the line her anger had disappeared. “I like you.”
He looked genuinely surprised. As if it was hard for him to wrap his mind around the thought that someone actually enjoyed his company.
It had cost her a lot of courage getting those words out. Now she felt very vulnerable, as if a single word from him would be enough to crush her. Yet again she needed him to say something. “Severus?” she asked timidly
“Yes,” he said distractedly.
“Say something, please.”
Where was he to begin? Maybe by telling her that something as simple as her telling him that she liked him was enough to turn his whole world upside down? She was the first person in years to do so. He had never felt sorry for himself, never felt depend on the approval or the sympathy of over people. Then why was this making him so…happy?
He returned to the present. She was still waiting for him to answer. With each second that passed she looked a little more anxious, a little more uncomfortable. He hadn’t realized his opinion mattered that much to her.
“What am I supposed to say?” he finally managed to get out.
“Isn’t that obvious,” Abigail looked at him sadly.
It hurt his heart seeing her like that. “Well…I like you too,” he finally said, unable to find the right words to properly describe what he felt for her.
Abigail smiled at that, truly, genuinely. She smiled because of something he had said. He still had to wrap his mind around that concept.
Then, when he was already half-expecting her to ask another one of those exhaustingly personal questions, she simply changed topic. Maybe she had sensed his discomfort and taken pity of him. Whatever he it was he was thankful for it.
“So…where were we? Oh, yes. Tea?”
“Yes, please,” he said quickly.
He was wrinkled his nose in disapproval, when she produced the tea bags from a drawer in her desk.
“Anything wrong?”
“This is just plain barbaric. Don’t you have any proper tea?” Apparently he had already recovered from the shock of hearing her declare her sympathy for him. Falling back into their familiar banter was something that gave both of them a certain amount reassurance, so they happily took refuge in it.
“No, apparently not.”
“I’ll be quite happy to provide some next time I stop by. No one should be forced to drink something like this, at least not twice.”
TBC