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Finally. That was probably the hardest thing to do, but the best that I could manage considering I just had to break through a magically locked door. But at long last I'm here in his room, greeted by what seems to be an automatic candle system puffing into place and illuminating the room around me. Black, grey, silvers and golds meld together very nicely in this modern Victorian suite, all suited with draperies and rounded architecture; not overly masculine, not overly feminine, just very soothing and beautiful. So basically he's not only a master potion maker, a first class wizard and the most attractive man I've ever seen, he's also a great interior decorator.
Good to know.
The room is rather large...probably about four or five times larger than the makeshift in-law suite sort of thing that the professors built for us when we first stumbled upon the castle. Odd circumstances for a visit to this famous school (at least famous in the wizarding world), but I shouldn't complain. Now I get to be close to Severus Snape, something that I had previously wasted so much time imagining about when he didn't even exist.
At first I thought it would be awkward, but he's more than sweet to me...in his own way. And considering the fact that I have no talent for magic, he's double sweet. Or maybe he just has to be because I've been assigned to assist him in running his classroom. I suppose, though, that this is the exact reason I'm here. To find some sort of evidence of what his affections for me actually are.
I like him. I mean I was fond of him before, and then we met and started working together and...now I've genuinely fallen for him. He's honestly all I've ever wanted, but just never had the experience to know.
Right. Journal. Snaking my way around the really comfortable-looking, velveteen, emerald sofas and black lacquered tables, iron wrought fixtures and frosted, cream-coloured glass lampshades (gods, this place is nice), I find myself automatically careening toward what seems to be his bedchamber. Perfect. Although he might keep it in the bookshelves, it might be most prudent to look to his bedside tables first. And maybe roll around on the bed while I'm here.
Judging myself so hard right now. But why not? It's not like I can realistically assume that I'd be allowed to do it with his permission. He's...Severus and I'm just me.
Well if that's not a depressing thought, I don't know what is. Anyway, let's just find the thing, find out either way and be out of here. If he even has one. He has to get his hurt out somehow, and he does have emotion, even if he doesn't show it. Does he even have anyone to talk to? I would love to be that someone--Diary. Now.
With a somewhat wary step I kneel down in front of the dark, square side table, running my hands over the wood grain like it's some precious artifact. I pull on the brass filigree drawer handles and thankfully the first drawer is relenting to my touch. In the minimal candle light, I can see a box of tissues, quite a few books, a small water glass, a quill, an inkwell and--
"What are you doing in here?" The suddenness with which that silken voice slips into the absolute silence that I had grown so accustomed to propels my heart to burst in my chest before quickly sewing itself back up so that it can take that much needed, very painful, next beat. Cold sheets of chagrin crumple up the bending of my spine as I twist myself around to face him.
"N-nothing. I mean, I think a better question is: what are you doing in here?" Smooth.
"These are my chambers." His drawl is soft and toneless, echoing thoughtlessly in the air. Now...considering the fact that I've just been rummaging through Snape's side drawers and was just caught by the very man whose privacy is being tampered with, I should think that his voice would sound a little more menacing. Does that mean he's amused? Or is he just trying his best not to murder me?
"Oh. Ohhhh. That's why everything is so...you. I thought this was McGonagall's place." His left eyebrow twitches up for a fraction of a second in the field of his otherwise completely solid face.
"And what exactly would you have been searching for if these were the chambers that you so blindly thought you occupied?" He steps toward me now, uncrossing his black-clad arms with class that one just cannot find elsewhere in this castle.
"Uh--" Professor Snape stops right before me, the height of him dwarfing me and making me feel like one of the first years that he intimidates on a daily basis. "Her diary." Yes. Best to hide things in plain sight.
"And what in the world would you need Professor McGonagall's diary for?" Shit, abandon ship! Abandon ship!
"To...uh...hey, is that Harry Potter?!" I point, hunker down and commit myself to the oldest trick in the book in hopes that he'll fall prey to a moment of weakness--
"That's what you go with?" Damn. "Shall I give you another chance? I think we both know you can do better than either of those...poor excuses for distractions." Double damn. Considering the fact that I'm still sweating from the embarrassment and adrenaline of being caught by the sexiest wizard that I've ever met, it's hard for me to focus on anything really, let alone a decent excuse for thievery.
There's one.
"Well, I would sir, but I hardly think it would matter. I would have been in her room without her permission, going through her things, regardless of my reason." Surprisingly staying committed to the McGonagall story. Hopefully he starts to buy it.
"Ah, appealing to my weakness for those who understand the pettiness of excuses...Indeed, better. However, unfortunately for you, you have already lied. Then proceeded to treat me like a ten year old on one of your muggle playgrounds--"
"What ten year old falls for the 'look over there' trick?" You know, if I had known that today would be the day that my mouth had killed me, I would have at least written home to my cat and told him that I love him and miss him.
Or maybe it's the day that it saves me. Truly. That shade of disapproval just looks absolutely fetching on the raven-haired man that stands before me, his facial muscles twitching in agitation. This should not be as completely and utterly fun as it is.
"And now you interrupt me." Aw...no, Severus, I didn't mean it.
"I'm...sorry." I can't help but let my vision fall to the floor. If there's one thing that I can't stand, it's when I go too far with my teasing...especially with someone that I care for deeply. And...Severus is certainly that sort of someone.
"Are you really?" The man sweeps himself to the side and gracefully places his posterior down on the cushiony goodness of his bed. "Are you also sorry for breaking into my room, rummaging through my things and looking for an item that holds my secrets?" Wait...he actually has one? More importantly, he sounds more than a little hurt with this probably-intending-to-be-mean sort of questioning really only just turning into a big glop of pained curiosity piling in at my eardrums.
"Very. Honestly, I just thought I could get in and out with it, find what I needed to find and put it back before you noticed."
"And what is it that you felt you needed to find? What exactly is it that you could not have just asked me?" If I need to abandon anymore ships tonight...
"I just...um..." He looks up at me, his sitting only having given me a few inches on him, and bores those deep, nearly black eyes into mine. He's looking for something. But considering the expediency with which I'm flittering my vision around, I'd be damned if he found it. "I mean, it was kind of like a dare."
"So all that it takes for you to invade someone's privacy is a simple dare...? I wonder what else one could make you do with that childish little phrase." Ouch. Right through me.
"You know me...I wouldn't have done it unless I already wanted to..."
"I suppose this means that your role of rogue in your little group of friends is an accurate depiction of who you really are--"
"Hey! No, that's not fair! I'm not mean like that--"
"Yet you wanted to steal my secrets--"
"I wanted to know if you--!..." Wow. Literally almost just said it. Damned sneaky Slytherin.
"If I...?" His voice is nearly singing to me, notes of perception, weariness, and pained strain against emotion all linger about my ears as I fight the urge to just tell him. And I'm not back to our little makeshift room so I'm sure the others know that I've been caught. And they can't come get me. That would be both a danger to them and would likely get me in more trouble. Ugh. Screw it. It's always so hard to lie.
"If you liked me. It's stupid, I know. And it was a shot in the dark whether you even had a journal or not, but it just sort of came up in conversation and I was particularly hyped up on sugar tonight so I decided to go ahead and be an idiot and do it. Or..." Again my sight fails me, faltering to the floor, focusing on a particularly interesting speckle of nothingness down there. "Maybe deep down I knew you would come catch me and we'd actually get to talk in a less professional setting." Oh...er... "N-not in a weird way. Just. You know. Like. Um. That's...ah...I should...get going..." I lean toward the door, starting some awkward stepping before I'm stopped by the sound of his voice.
"As far as I am aware, you cannot walk around school grounds unaccompanied...and especially not this late at night." It's only around 9, but that's technically past curfew for the students so...not only would that warrant jealous rage on behalf of the ones who already hate muggles, but also probably turn some of the people who have accepted our being here against my little posse of muggle-friends. Fair enough.
"Then...can you please walk me back...? Or to Dumbledore's office or something?"
"To the headmaster's office...?" He sounds more than a little surprised, like he had planned to just let me off easy. Or perhaps my fate lies on the other end of the spectrum. I did just basically confess to an ex-death eater. A man who is prophesized to continue on in his double agency once Voldemort comes back. And even if he did come back, admitting that he liked me, if he even could like me, would completely blow his cover. "No, I think you are better suited to stay here until I'm ready to escort you back to your quarters."
"Okay...what exactly are you going to do...?"
"Do...?" He closes his lips and takes a slow breath through his nostrils, flaring them ever so slightly before looking away from me. "I assume, considering the circumstances, that you know how foolish this was. The four of you have expressed an interest in changing the fate of everyone in this world. And you know that my role doesn't change. In fact, you factored me into your plan just as Albus had. Yet you wish to know if I've somehow grown fond of you...? The rambunctious, quiet, well-behaved and mismannered muggle child." He pauses, thoughts stopping the dance of his lips. "You're nearly half my age."
"Nearly." Nearly, so not really.
"Yes. Nearly." Apparently I've got the definition of nearly wrong.
"I can't like who I happen to like?"
"You can feel however you would like to feel--"
"It's not like I can help it, you know..." Severus tilts an eyebrow up, as he always does when he's about to unleash a verbal assault on someone, and shifts his sight down before undoing the wrapping of his arms and places his hands on the edge of his mattress.
Like they have a mind of their own, my eyes lilt over his form, tracing the slender nature of the man. He seems tense...but if he really wanted me gone, he would have disposed of me. Snape is not the kind of person who would entertain this sort of thing unless it benefitted him.
"My dear assistant, I think it would be wise for you to reconsider what being here does in the grand scheme of things. It might make you happy for the moment, but what about down the road? When we get the sniveling rat to call him back? When he's alive again and I have to pretend to fight against all of the Order and, perhaps, even Albus himself. All the while protecting everyone just to make sure that you aren't upset." The black of his eyes fills me up, waves of malcontent rushing into me like heat on pavement. "You think I really need the added distraction of your emotions? Of time spent with you?" What...in the world does that even mean? But I can't even ask. Whatever this is, it most definitely fits in the category of rejection. "And what would word of our entanglement prove to the Dark Lord?" His voice is slowly culminating into crescendo, probably trying his damnedest not to shout. "That I have sufficiently turned coat? That he ought to kill me for even looking at a muggle as I have?" He opens those thin, well-cared for lips to continue his verbal battering but my words somehow come out first, shutting him up instantaneously.
"Are you...mad that you like a muggle...?" I mean...it makes sense. He hated his father. I don't think he's had a good experience with a muggle since.
"...no." His voice is finally hushed, caring...and the steely wall that's always blocked up against his face has fallen. "What about Lily...?" No choking, no heaviness associated with the name...that seems odd, considering the circumstances.
"What about her...? I mean, I won't try anything if you're still in love with her but...honestly, I just wanted to know how you felt about me. And now I know. Actually I know more than I wanted to, I think. But it would be unprofessional regardless of the Voldemort thing. I'm sorry that I'm not more sneaky." My head dips down, finally feeling that typical self-pity again. Yet another one-sided crush--what an appropriate word. "I'm sorry that you caught me."
"I am most certainly not." ...what? Well, clearly, since you caught someone doing something bad. Since I didn't successfully fly beneath your all encompassing radar. "And about Lily, since I know that she must be on your mind: I have not been in love with her for a very long time. I respect her and care for her...but nothing more. She was the only one who saw me as a person to be treated as worth something regardless of my natural acuities. She didn't need them to care for me. Quite like you." No, but they make you who you are. If you weren't as intelligent or talented, you would handle yourself differently. But...I think, like nearly everything I ever automatically think, that would be highly inappropriate to say right now. "Nothing on your mind with which to ruin the romance...? Peculiar..."
"Ah...it's...true that nothing gets past you." But I refuse to say it. I can't ruin this. It's praise. It's something of a confession even.
"That isn't true in the slightest. You've been able to get past all of my barriers. All of...the things that I've tried to do to prevent myself from caring for you." He pauses for a moment, obviously recollecting something that he finds relevant. "This morning I resigned myself to coming back to my room to purge all of the evidence of my affections for you, everything that I haven't been able to keep inside and instead of those pages waiting for me, I find you."
"Ah, um...that sounds--" My favorite black iris' shoot over in their sockets like half-moons in an uncharacteristic display of emotion...although I do tend to annoy him a lot, so really it just seems like an exaggerated experience of the all-too-familiar.
"Of all of the--you have no concept of reality, do you?" He stands, embracing the hardest lines of my jaw in his thin, long hands. "How in the world could I purge you? I've already lost one that I love. I don't wish to lose another." Love...
His breath is so hot, so unlike the coolness of his hands, so unlike the comfortable chill of his bedroom; it fans my face, evidence of his evening tea tingeing the smell, as I stare at the candlelight sparkling in the thin film of wetness that surrounds his eyeballs. If we were together I think I would be melting into him right now, ready to surrender myself to his apparently practiced touch, but alas. His points stand. I knew them before he said them, but...I had always hoped he would try to be sneaky about any affections that he had for me--
"You are far too prone to making others do everything for you." And with the most dragon-like roll of his neck, he bends down the remaining distance between us and presses his agile lips to my own, out-of-practice ones. At least he's certainly making me feel out of practice...taking the lead so suddenly and quickly, skillfully, and...wait, didn't he just say we couldn't do this? He breaks away, carefulness lingering in his touch...but as he looks at me it's apparent that he certainly wasn't expecting what just transpired. "Was your hesitation in initiating the kiss because you didn't want this...?" He speaks sternly, apparently automatically adopting his stone-like demeanor at my lack of proper response.
"No, you...just said we couldn't and now we are...and..." His neck undulates as he swallows, mellowing out with the knowledge that my meekness wasn't rejection.
"I apologize...I didn't mean to confuse you. And we ought to wait anyway. You are sure to have stipulations that I cannot meet for the time being."
"Wait...what if we were just...sneaky. Like, what if we just," I slip my hands up his chest, resting them there like girls always do in those stupid chick flicks. It's actually comfortable..."kept this secret."
"I haven't been able to ask you about your past but I have the inkling that you aren't exactly innocent enough to be able to handle that." Despite his words, he ghosts his lips against mine, lulling my mind into that familiar, undesired fog...only undesired because it's bringing up the painful memories that he's so correctly guessed at. "And even if you could, you don't deserve it."
"Severus..." I finally respond, tongue licking at his lips against my better judgment. This...if he really loves me...if he really cares about me, I can do this. I think. "I would rather have this than nothing at all..."