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Chapter Text

Wednesday, 31^st August 1983

  Returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry not as a student, but as a teacher, was an incredibly daunting yet terribly exciting prospect. You had arrived in the early morning the day before term was to start, as per Professor Dumbledore’s request. It still hadn’t quite registered with you that Dumbledore had accepted you for the position, given your age. But when you’d seen an advert in the Daily Prophet for a temporary Professor of Divination at Hogwarts, you hadn’t even given it a second thought before sending an owl with your application. It had all happened rather fast, and now here you were, dragging a large, heavy trunk through the grounds of the castle ready to begin a whole new term as a Professor at the famous Wizarding School.

  Climbing the great stones steps of the castle’s entrance, you feel a combination of nerves and excitement. You consider – whilst marvelling at the tall stone statues guarding the entrance way – how it reminds you very much of the first time you’d ascended into the castle eight years ago on your very first day as a student at Hogwarts.

  “You can leave that there.” An unpleasant yet very familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. You look up to find Argus Filch grimacing at you from the entrance hall; Mrs Norris prowling around his legs and glaring at you with just as much disdain as her owner.

  “Filch.” You greet him with a forced smile, leaving your trunk where he’d indicated. “Good to see you again.” It isn’t, as you’d never gotten on with the caretaker, but then again nobody really does as far as you know. He grumbles something incomprehensible under his breath that sounds like “can’t get rid of ‘em” and then shuffles off shaking his head. Mrs Norris stays a moment longer to glare threateningly at you, then stalks off after Filch.

  “Ah, there you are, it’s so good to see you again.” Professor McGonagall hurries her way over to greet you with a smile on her face.

  “Professor!” The sight of a smiling and familiar face seems to settle your nerves a little.

  “You know when I heard Dumbledore had accepted your application to substitute as our Divination teacher for the year, I was incredibly surprised, I must say.”

  “Because of my age…” You must be the youngest teacher accepted into Hogwarts since Professor Snape, two years prior.

  “Not at all, my dear, but because Divination is a bit of a waste of time as far as I’m concerned.” She states plainly.

  You frown, trying to find the words to argue your case and gladly welcome the interruption when the Potions Master himself appears suddenly behind McGonagall.

  “I think you’ll find this talented young girl received one of the highest number of N.E.W.T’s this school has seen in many years, Professor. Not only did she receive an Outstanding in Divination but also in my own class, if I’m not mistaken?” He smirks knowingly as McGonagall turns around to face him.

  She huffs. “Well be that as it may, Severus, I’m sure the school could have coped without a Divination teacher for a single year.” Snape doesn’t respond as McGonagall turns back to address you. “Of course, not that we’re not happy to have you here.”

  You smile awkwardly. “Um, thanks.”

  “Well you’ll have to excuse me I have things I need to attend to, but I’ll see you both at dinner later, I’ve no doubt.” She pauses, “And welcome back to Hogwarts.” With that she takes off down the corridor leaving you with Snape.

  “Thank you for that, Professor.”

  “I may only have taught you for a year, but you passed your Potions exams with the highest grade in the class. I’m a little disappointed of course that you chose to pursue the path of divination over the art of potion making…” You smile apologetically at his words but he only shrugs with a soft, irritable sigh.

  Although Snape is only four years older than you, his words and his face convey the air of a much older man than just twenty-three. But you’d always put that down to everything he’d been through during the reign of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. You shiver thinking about it...

---

  It was nice to see so many familiar faces at the table for dinner that night. All of the other teachers had made you feel incredibly welcome, greeting you with encouraging smiles and reassuring you how well you were going to do guiding the students in their Divination studies this year. Rubeus Hagrid had been so happy to see you again he’d given you a hug so tight it lifted you off the ground and made it a little hard to breathe. McGonagall had to encourage him to put you down and get a hold of himself. Pomona Sprout had also greeted you with a warm hug; she’d been one of your favourite teachers throughout your time at Hogwarts.

  “Excited for the new school year, Severus?” Professor Flitwick questions as he scoops up a forkful of chicken pie and mashed potato.

  “Ecstatic.” Snape replies, with less enthusiasm than seems humanly possible.

   There’s an awkward silence so you choose to break it by asking about Professor Trelawney’s absence. “So… Where did Professor Trelawney go again, exactly?”

  “Oh, Sybill has chosen to take a year’s leave to travel the world, now that Voldemort-” There’s a collectively tense gasp at the mentioning of his name as Dumbledore responds to your question. “Now that the world is a safer place...” He gazes over the top of his half-moon spectacles at you. “Something about Bermuda, if I’m not mistaken.” He shrugs and enjoys a mouthful of pie whilst seemingly contemplating his own words.

  “Well… That’ll be nice for her.” You nod. Divination had been your very best subject alongside Potions whilst studying at Hogwarts, and you’d been quite relieved when Dumbledore agreed to employ Professor Trelawney during your forth year, after almost removing the subject entirely from the school’s curriculum. Although you weren’t convinced all of her prophecies were particularly accurate, you felt her foretelling was worth some merit.

  “Indeed. I decided, after much deliberation, that the students studying for their O.W.L’s and N.E.W.T’s this year deserved the opportunity to continue their studies in Divination, as I’m sure there are at least a few who truly do possess a rare gift.” He smiles fondly before returning to his pie.

  “Nervous?” Snape catches your eye as you absentmindedly nudge peas and carrots around your plate with your fork. You suddenly realise you haven’t eaten very much.

  “Uh… A little, maybe.” You have to admit although you’re confident you can do the job, the problem with becoming a teacher only a year after graduating is the thought of teaching students you’d previously attended with. But if anyone knew about that feeling, Snape would. Although you didn’t know him well, you were in your forth year at Hogwarts when Snape graduated, and when he returned as Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House, you were in your final year.

  “Oh you’ll do fine.” McGonagall responds. “Don’t worry yourself over it. If you have a problem with any of the students you send them straight to their head of houses and they’ll be dealt with.”

  You take a deep breath and nod.

  “Ah ha, dessert is here!” Dumbledore announces excitedly, as stacks of profiteroles and a large strawberry trifle appear on the table before you. You place your fork on your plate, admitting defeat at the thought of attempting any more pie. And as inviting as the strawberry trifle and profiteroles look, there’s a knot in your stomach that refuses to allow you to eat anything else. You opt instead to make your excuses and retire early from the Great Hall, leaving the other professors to enjoy their evening and catch up on what they’d all gotten up to during the summer break.

---

  The house elves of Hogwarts had made you up a cosy little room on the sixth floor of the north side of the castle; near the Divination classroom and with a small window overlooking the entrance courtyard. As you sit on the edge of the four poster bed you consider how strange it is to be in your own quarters at Hogwarts, rather than sharing a dormitory with four other students. You could most definitely come to enjoy this, though. The room is warm and has a large open fireplace, and the elves, you notice, have taken the liberty of displaying a small Slytherin pride flag above the mantle. You had, of course, been in Slytherin house when in attendance here; the reason you suspect – besides your gift for Potions – Snape disliked you a little less than most of the other students he taught.

  Retrieving your wand from the folds of your cloak, you mutter Alohomora and watch the catches of your trunk, which has miraculously found its way to your room, unlock and spring open. You begin to unpack your belongings; neatly folding your clothes into the chest of drawers and placing an enchanted photograph of your very proud-looking muggle parents on top it. You smile as they wave at you from inside the gold-edged frame; they’d been most proud when you told them you’d be taking a job at Hogwarts, regardless it was a temporary position, they couldn’t have been happier.

  Once all of your belongings are unpacked and the trunk is tucked tidily underneath the bed, you lean back in a comfortable brown-leather armchair beside the softly glowing fireplace and realise just how at home you feel being back at Hogwarts. And although you’re nervous about the arrival of the students tomorrow, you have a good feeling about the year ahead. And your intuition is rarely wrong.

---

  Watching the students filing in to the Great Hall the following evening was nothing short of brilliant. The looks on their faces as they chatted excitedly with their friends about their summer holidays and all the things they couldn’t wait to do this year brought back many fond memories for you. You overheard snippets of conversations here and there; an energetic group of third years eagerly discussing what they’ll do on their first trip to Hogsmeade; a second year boy telling everyone who would listen all about the new owl his parents had gotten him; a fifth year girl who was busy explaining to her friends how hard she planned to work this year in order to achieve good grades in her O.W.L examinations.

  Gradually the hall fills up until only enough space is left for the new first year students to pile in, ready to be sorted into their houses. You sit proudly behind the table at the top of the hall with the other Professors, and watch as the noise level drops and the terrified-looking first year’s troop nervously through the hall led by an ever-stern faced Professor McGonagall.

  You’re so busy listening to McGonagall calling out the names of each student and watching as they take their seat with the Sorting Hat that you don’t notice Snape appear and take his seat beside you. It’s only when he starts clapping enthusiastically for every new Slytherin inductee you notice his presence. You make a point of clapping loudly for every student, no matter which house they’re sorted in to.

  As the cheering and clapping dies down, Dumbledore rises to address the room. “Yes, yes, we’re all very excited to be back at Hogwarts, I see. And welcome to all of our new students. I’ll keep this brief, as I’m sure you’re all eager to enjoy the feast that has been prepared…”

  As Dumbledore continues his usual beginning of year speech with warnings about the Forbidden Forest and Filch’s latest out-of-bounds rules, Snape leans a little closer to you and mutters, “Not rooting for Slytherin anymore, I see.”

  “I’m rooting for everyone. As a teacher I don’t think it’s right for me to favour one house over another.” You state, firmly.

  “Not even when it comes to Quidditch?” Snape raises an eyebrow and you shrug as you mumble,

  “Well… Quidditch is different.” And you’d swear Snape is trying his best to hide a smirk at that admittance as he straightens up.

  “… And I’d also like to take this opportunity to introduce to you all your Professor for Divination for the year-” when Dumbledore announces your name in front of the school you feel your stomach lurch. You hadn’t really considered you’d have to be introduced to the students and it took you a little by surprise. Snape just looks at you and you realise you should probably stand up and make yourself known.

  In what is probably the most uncoordinated attempt you could make, you manage to stand up (knocking into the table as you do so), and smile nervously with a sort of half-wave as a room full of unimpressed looking students gaze up at you. One or two seem to be giggling, and a couple of the older Slytherin’s point and whisper among their friends as they recognise you.

  “I’m sure you’ll all make her feel right at home while Professor Trelawney is away.” Dumbledore turns and gives you a gentle nod and you hastily sit back down.

  “Didn’t envision that one, then?” Snape mumbles without taking his eyes off the students, silently amused by your clumsy attempt at introducing yourself.

  Snape doesn’t say very much else to you the remainder of the evening, and instead you spend your time talking to Professor Sprout, who seems delighted in discussing with you her newly erected greenhouses and her theories about dragon dung fertilizer. And despite Pomona’s choice of topic, you find you’re able to enjoy the food far more today than you had done yesterday, and manage two platefuls of roast beef dinner and three helpings of jam sponge pudding with custard.

  When the feast is over and the last of the students have left the Great Hall, you decide to head back to your own quarters and bid your fellow professors goodnight. But as you reach the entrance hall Snape calls your name, following after you and catching up with you before you head up the stairs. His deep black irises penetrate your own eyes for just a moment and with an air of professionalism and a deep breath he quietly says, “Good luck, tomorrow.” Then his gaze darts away quickly and before you can thank him he turns and leaves you; his black robes billowing out behind him as he stalks his way toward the dungeons.

---

  That night you have vivid and unusual dreams. You’re lost in the castle, searching everywhere for a way out. You run up and up and up the spiral staircase you know should lead to the Divination classroom but when you open the circular trap door you find yourself stepping into the Potion’s dungeon instead. You’re a student again and Snape is listing ingredients on a chalk board. Pearl Dust. Ashwinder Eggs. Rose Thorns. “Pay, attention!” He spins around and glowers at you, “Trelawney will be back soon so you need to, pay, attention!” You look down and find your cauldron is bubbling over; a swirling black mist erupts from it and soon you’re engulfed by a cloak of darkness and you can’t see anything else at all.

  You awake feeling disoriented at precisely 6:29 the following morning. Taking a deep breath, you brush the hair out of your face before sitting up and pushing the bed covers away. Deciding there’s no point in trying to get in another half hours’ sleep, you drag yourself out of bed feeling decidedly unrested, and dress for your first day of teaching before heading down to breakfast early in the hopes of avoiding Snape; your dream is far too fresh in your mind to want to face him this early in the morning.

  It isn’t until you sit down to breakfast you realise you’re still full from last night’s dinner. You manage a half-slice of buttered toast and most of a glass of pumpkin juice before heading out again. You can feel some of the older students staring at you as you wander past them, but you do your best to ignore it, and you’re busy thinking how well you’ve done to not run into Snape this morning when he rounds the corner and you bump right into him.

  “Watch, where, you’re – Oh, it’s you.” He lowers his tone but still looks mildly irritated that you’ve walked into him.

  “Uh, sorry.” You mutter, a little embarrassed and avoiding eye contact as you step past him. He pauses as though he’s going to respond, then continues on his way to breakfast without saying another word to you, instead choosing to scold a group of Hufflepuff boys being moderately disruptive at the table.

  When the bell signals the start of the first lesson at 9am, you’ve already been sitting in the Divination classroom for over an hour, familiarizing yourself with some of Trelawney’s books and resources. The classroom is exactly how you remember it; a cramped circular room filled with small circular tables adorned with flowing red fabric and crystal balls; various books and mismatched tea sets line the shelves and the air is thick with the scent of herbal teas. Although it certainly isn’t your style or choice of décor, you find the familiarity and calming aroma is quite soothing.

  “Good morning third years, and welcome to your very first Divination lesson.” You introduce yourself confidently. “Now, you can put your wands away, they won’t be needed here.” There are a number of audible huffs from several students as they all shuffle to put away their wands, but as you glance around at the faces sitting in front of you, you’re delighted to notice a number of them look genuinely interested and excited to learn the art of Divination. “Thank you. I thought we’d start with horoscopes. Something all of you will be at least mildly familiar with.”

  The lesson goes well, and the subsequent lessons of the day all seem to go without issue, too, and by the end of the day you’re feeling incredibly confident in your ability to teach at Hogwarts School. Of course, it’s only your first day, and so far you’ve only taught classes of third year students. But since term began on a Friday you’ll have the whole weekend ahead of you to plan for next week’s lessons.

---

  It’s mid Sunday afternoon by the time you’re finished putting together your teaching notes for the week, and you’re busy straightening up some copies of The Predictions of Tycho Dodonus when the trap door to the classroom opens and Snape climbs up through the circular doorway.

  “Afternoon…” He greets you in his usual tone. “You don’t mind?”

  “Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just about done here anyway. What can I do for you, professor?” You ask as you finish tidying the books away.

  “You can call me Severus, you know. After all we’re colleagues now.” He takes a seat at one of the tables and absentmindedly runs his fingers over the top of a crystal ball. “No, I just came to er,” he pauses, as though looking for words. “Just, to see how you’re settling in.” He catches your eye momentarily.

  “Oh. I’m doing fine, thank you. Just, you know, preparing for some of next week’s lessons.” You shrug.

  “Indeed… Little stuffy in here, isn’t it?” His eyes scour the room unpleasantly.

  “I guess so. It’s how Trelawney likes to keep it… And I’m used to it.” It’s not so bad, once you’re used to it.

  Severus expels a soft “hm,” and then returns his gaze to the crystal ball his fingers are still distractedly tapping against. “So you really see the future in this?” He questions.

  “Well, sometimes. I’m better with Astrology, Numerology, Palmistry… I often see the future in dreams, though.” It’s not that you can’t see anything in a crystal ball, just that encountering inexplicable visions of the future whilst gazing into them isn’t your strong suit.

  “Palmistry?”

  “Sure. Best way to read a person’s future… And their past.”

  Severus releases the crystal ball and draws back his sleeve a little, holding out his palm toward you. “Impress me.” He provokes, with a raised eyebrow.

  You accept the challenge and sit down in the chair opposite him. His hand is warm, strong and fairly larger than yours, and he shifts in his chair as you move his hand closer to you to study the lines that stretch across his palm.

  “There’s sadness… Loss.” You trace a finger from one side to the other and he tenses just slightly, but enough you notice it. The more you look the less good you can see. Life line cut short and a glimpse at his fate makes your heart feel heavy. You decide not to look too deeply into it, instead focusing on other aspects. “There’s love in your past…” He tenses again. “And heartbreak.” He closes his fist abruptly and pulls away from you before you can mention what else you’ve seen.

  “Anyone could say those things of anyone else. We all have a past.” He stares at his closed fist as he speaks.

  “We all have a future, too.” You retort.

  “Not all of us.”

  Before you can reply the trap door swings open again and a timid looking fifth year girl stumbles up the ladder. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t, uh, didn’t think anyone would, be here.” She stammers, realising Severus is sat at the table with you.

  “It’s fine,” you reply with a smile, “Can I help?” Severus scowls at the girl and then disappears through the trap door without as much as a word to neither you nor the young girl. You only half hear the girl’s reply as you watch Severus go, but manage to decipher something about wanting to borrow a copy of Unfogging The Future.

---

  Monday and Tuesday come and go in the blink of an eye and by Wednesday you’ve managed to put your encounter with Severus out of your mind. He hasn’t spoken to you since your attempt at reading his palm and quite honestly you have better things to occupy yourself with than his sulking.

  But Thursday’s last lesson of the day with a group of unenthusiastic-looking sixth years is proving to be more of a challenge than you’d anticipated. “Page 92, Xylomancy, if I have to tell you again it’ll be ten points from Slytherin!” You demand of a small group of Slytherin boys who have thus far refused to pay any attention to what you have to say.

  “Ten points? Aw come on Professor.” One of them groans.

  “I’ve warned you.” But they clearly aren’t taking your authority seriously as they continue sniggering amongst themselves. “Ten points and I’ll be speaking to Professor Snape. He can deal with you.”

  “Yeah you’d love any excuse to visit Snape.” One of them scoffs, and a soft titter extends across the room.

  “Excuse me?” You demand, brows furrowed and feeling furious.

  The boys simply shrug, ignoring your question and opening their books to page 92. You take a deep breath and continue the lesson to the best of your ability, and by the time you’ve reached the end of the lesson, you’ve decided to adapt the homework you’d planned to set from one page of parchment on ‘The Varying Accuracy of Xylomancy Dependant on Sapling Age and Species’ to three pages. And you want it completed by Monday.

  The collective groan from the class as they make a note of the homework and leave for the day is relatively satisfying, and somewhat atones for the grief they’ve given you throughout the lesson.

---

  Severus seemed to be continuously avoiding you, although you’re certain every time you entered the Great Hall when he was there you could feel his eyes on you the majority of the time. You chose to ignore him, too, instead engaging Pomona in fascinating conversations about her latest botanical and herbological studies, and absorbed in her narration of how the day’s lessons had gone; it was always amusing to hear stories of student’s disgust at having to collect Bubotuber puss or extract the poison of a Venomous Tentacular plant.

  It isn’t until almost a week later, whilst cleaning up the lesson’s teacups with a Scourgify charm, you hear a familiar sing-song voice drifting up from the bottom of the spiral staircase which leads to the Divination classroom. Curiously you follow the sound; the words becoming clearer as you near the source. You hear your name, and then “…and Snape, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g-”

  “Peeves!” You shriek from halfway down the staircase, rushing the rest of the way to find the bothersome poltergeist floating around at the bottom of it upside down, singing his heart out. “Why in the name of Merlin’s Beard are you singing such a preposterous song?!” You demand.

  “Oh, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. Spends all his time asking about you, he does.” Peeves floats upwards, giggling to himself as he taunts you.

  “Don’t be stupid. You stop this nonsense right now.”

  “Nonsense? Oh no. You ask the others… Doesn’t ask you but he always asks them.” And with that he glides away continuing to sing as obnoxiously as possible “k-i-s-s-i-n-g, first comes love…”

  “I’ll be speaking to the Bloody Baron if you don’t stop that!” You bellow after him, trying to ignore his ridiculous song.

  You hurry back up the stairs and finish tidying away before heading to your quarters before dinner, all the while thinking about what Peeves had said. Why would Severus be asking about you? After all, he’d all but ignored you for almost two weeks, the miserable git. And no wonder those sixth year boys were making those sorts of comments, if Peeves has been spreading such absurd rumours all this time.

  You sit on the edge of your bed staring out of the window on the other side of the room. The weather is beginning to change and the sky is already growing dark. Pondering your options, you make the decision to visit the Bloody Baron before dinner in an attempt to put a stop to Peeves’ taunting. Of course, that’ll mean going down to the dungeons and risking an awkward encounter with Severus. But it’s a risk you’ll have to take.

  You stand up and glance in the mirror before leaving; straightening your robes and running your fingers through your hair before pulling open the heavy door and stepping back into the corridor.

  It takes a good few minutes to make your way to the dungeons from the sixth floor, and just as you reach the bottom of the torch-lit staircase near the Slytherin common room, you spot Severus coming the other way. The two of you lock eyes and you stop dead.

  “Evening, Severus.” You offer.

  “Dungeons are a little out of your way, aren’t they?” He asks stiffly.

  “Yes, well. I was looking for the Bloody Baron, actually, have you seen him?”

  Severus averts his gaze and huffs, “I’ve just been to see him myself, as it happens. Told him to keep Peeves under control...”

  You feel a slight heat rise up in your cheeks, knowing the only reason Severus would have an issue with Peeves right now was if he’d heard him sing the same preposterous nonsense you had. “Oh,” is all you manage to respond with.

  After a painfully long pause, he finally asks “Anything else I can help you with?” although the irritability obvious in his tone makes you think he doesn’t especially want to have to help you with anything.

  You respond with a very quick “No.” and disappear back up the dungeon stairs and hurry off to the Great Hall for dinner, all the while wishing the ground might swallow you whole.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 2^nd October 1983

  The next time you’d seen Peeves – a few days after Severus’ demands for the Bloody Baron to have a stern word with him – he was skulking out by the courtyard looking miserable, although apparently throwing small pebbles at unsuspecting first years in an effort to cheer himself up.

  Severus had gone from avoiding you entirely, to a polite good morning, good afternoon, or good evening whenever you happened to pass, but didn’t go out of his way to come and see you again, or even to ask how you were. But everything seemed to settle down by the end of September and even the particularly difficult class of sixth years had resolved to do their work and hand in their homework on time.

  The weather had gotten chillier as you entered October; the leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, littering the castle grounds in a sea of orange and red. Talk had already turned to Hallowe’en amongst many of the students, and the third years in particular were mostly heard chatting excitedly about their first trip to Hogsmeade, which had been scheduled for the second Saturday of the month.

  The air this morning is crisp. Strolling across the courtyard and looking out over the grounds you notice the Gryffindor Quidditch team are already practicing for the first match of the year, though it isn’t set to take place until the first weekend of November.

  “Alright there lass, how’re yeh doin’?” You turn to find Hagrid towering behind you, carrying a large green can of what you recognise to be Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent.

  “Oh, hi Hagrid. I’m doing well, thanks. Slug problems again?”

  “Ey? Oh, yeah, threatenin’ me pumpkins they are. Gotta keep ‘em nice n’ healthy ready fer Hallowe’en, y’know?” You nod along as he explains. “Say, if yeh’ve not got nothin’ else ter do yeh could always come an’ keep me company down at the pumpkin patch?”

  “Sure,” you agree cheerfully, not having anything planned for your day.

  You follow Hagrid down to the pumpkin patch outside of his hut, having to jog slightly to keep up with his large strides. The pumpkins themselves are already hugely impressive; easily a foot and a half wide, and there must be around a hundred of them.

  “So, those sixth years given yeh anymore grief lately?” Hagrid asks as you take a seat on the edge of a particularly large pumpkin.

  “They’ve been okay, actually… But I do wonder if they made the mistake of making a comment in front of Snape and ended up facing some hideous punishment…” They have been unusually cooperative recently.

  “Snape? What’s he got ter do with it?” Hagrid asks, bewildered. You suddenly realise although you’d certainly mentioned the sixth year’s aversion to following your instruction in lessons, you hadn’t told any of the other Professors what Peeves had been singing, and perhaps they hadn’t heard it.

  “Oh, nothing.” You quickly respond. Hagrid shrugs his broad shoulders and continues to go about de-slugging the pumpkins. But Peeves’ mention of Severus asking the other Professors about you is still playing on your mind. You decide to ask Hagrid about it. “Say, Hagrid?”

  “Mm?”

  “It’s just… Does Snape,” You pause, considering how to word your question. “Well I just wondered if he’d mentioned me at all, recently.”

  Hagrid doesn’t seem to think much of the question, to your relief, and simply responds, “Erm, as a matter o’ fact he did ask me a couple days ago if I knew how yeh were gettin’ on. Y’know, just general chit-chat really.” You nod, curious as to why he doesn’t bloody-well ask you himself if he is that interested. But before either of you have a chance to think any more on the subject, Professor McGonagall appears, striding up the path toward you.

  “Ah, just the two people I’ve been looking for.” She exclaims, a little out of breath.

  “Hello there Professor McGonagall,” Hagrid says cheerily. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I wanted to ask the two of you if you’d like to join Filius, Severus and I to accompany the students on their trip to Hogsmeade on Saturday.”

  “I’d be more than happy ter help out, Professor!” Hagrid beams.

  “Oh um, yes that’d be great. Good. I mean,” why does the notion of spending any time with Severus outside of the school grounds make you feel a little giddy? You attempt to compose yourself. “Yes of course, that’d be fine.” You nod, obligingly.

  “Yes, well... Nine o’clock sharp Saturday morning then, the entrance courtyard.” She smiles briefly and hurries off back up the path towards the school.

  “That’ll be nice that will, trip ter Hogsmeade. Truth be told the teachers spend most o’ the day in the pub.” Hagrid informs you. Come to think of it, you don’t remember seeing much of your professors when you’d visit Hogsmeade as a student. A Saturday spent in the Three Broomsticks doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend a day at all. “There we are that’s the last o’ the slug repellent down.” Hagrid informs you, hanging the empty can on a rusted nail protruding from a lone fence post. “Did yer wan’ ter come in fer a cup o’ tea?” He offers, trudging toward the door of his hut.

  You nod, “sure,” and with a smile climb to your feet and follow Hagrid into his circular stone hut. Truth be told, you’ll do anything that might take your mind off of Severus – who seems to be occupying your thoughts quite uninvited.

  Stepping inside the small but cosy cabin, you notice a number of dead pheasants and rabbits hanging neatly from the ceiling, accompanied by empty baskets and crates, no doubt used for keeping all manner of magical creatures at bay.

  “You take a seat over there an’ I’ll get the kettle on.” Hagrid gestures to a large wooden chair at the table at he swings a brass kettle over the fireplace. “Nice to ‘ave some company. Y’know I been thinkin’ lately about gettin’ a dog. He’d ‘ave to be a biggun, mind, wouldn’t want a tiny little thing hangin’ around with the likes o’ me, probably squash him.” He chuckled. “No I was thinkin’ maybe summit like a Boarhound. Great big things, they are.”

  “That sounds great, Hagrid.” You agree as he pours boiling water over the loose leaf tea. You notice his teacups are fairly larger than the average sized teacup, much like most of the things in his house.

  Hagrid takes a chair on the other side of the table and offers you a biscuit to go with your tea. “’Course what I’d really like is a dragon. Not sure Dumbledore’d go fer that, though.”

  You stifle a laugh, picturing Hagrid attempting to hide a dragon inside his hut. “No, maybe not the best idea. A dog sounds much safer.” You persuade him as you sip your tea.

  You spend the best part of the morning at Hagrid’s, listening as he tells you all about the vegetable patch and his troubles with the Flesh-Eating Slugs, and how he thinks he’d seen a Bowtruckle in a tree on the edge of the Forbidden forest recently, but how he wasn’t quite sure because it’d darted off rather quickly. All in all, it’d been a very lovely morning and a very good distraction.

  That is, until you reach the bottom of your cup of tea and instinctively swirl the cup three times to the right before sipping the last dregs of liquid from it. Glancing down into the cup you notice the tea leaves have arranged themselves in a very specific manner. Hagrid must’ve seen the distracted look on your face as he asks, “Yeh aren’t readin’ the tea leaves, are yeh?”

  You put the cup down and ignore them. “No.”

  Hagrid frowns and leans over to stare into the bottom of your cup. “Huh… Just looks like a squiggle to me.”

  “It’s an anchor.”

  “Is that good?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose.”

  “What’s it mean?”

  “It means good fortune is on its way. Usually in business, or…” You glance back into the cup. “Anyway I’d better get going, thanks so much for the tea, Hagrid, and the biscuits.”

  “Oh right, yeah, that’s no bother at all was lovely havin’ yeh.”

  You haul open the heavy door of the hut and step out into the fresh midday air, turning back briefly to say goodbye to Hagrid. “Good luck with those slugs.”

  “Thanks very much, I’ll see yeh around, then.” And he waves you off as you traipse back up to the castle.

---

  You spend the subsequent days continuing your minimal interactions with Severus in much the same way you already had been. And yet, you find in times of unoccupancy your thoughts strayed to what Severus might be doing in those moments. The answer you came up with was usually the same, though; teaching Potions; deducting points from less favourable houses; scowling furiously at the students. But sometimes, your answers deviated a little further; sitting alone in his office; undressing in the evening; -

  “Professor?” Reality comes crashing back to you on Tuesday afternoon during a very slow Divination lesson, when one of your fourth years has a question regarding the position of Neptune on the astrological chart she’d been mapping. “Professor are you okay?”

  “What? Yes, absolutely.”

  “Were you having a vision?”

  You were, but not a vision-of-the-future kind and not a sharing-it-with-the-class kind, either. “No. Maybe. Let’s just have a look at that chart, shall we?”

  Time spent out of the classroom wasn’t any better. It was as though fate kept drawing the two of you together. On Thursday Severus had been the only other Professor at the table with you during the time you spent at dinner that evening.

  “McGonagall tells me you’re accompanying the trip to Hogsmeade this Saturday?” He mentions casually, whilst you finish the last of your Shepherd’s pie.

  “Yes, she asked me to.” You pretend you don’t know he’ll be going, too. “Are you?”

  He nods. “Someone needs to keep these delinquent students in line.” He mutters, glancing disapprovingly across the Great Hall. You do wonder why Severus chooses to teach; he’s clearly not a fan of children.

  “I was speaking to Hagrid the other day,” you begin, changing the subject.

  He doesn’t look impressed. “Were you?”

  “He said you’d asked after me.”

  Severus is momentarily taken aback. “I…” He clears his throat. “I was merely inquiring as to whether your classes were going, as, expected…” You notice his fingers are tapping restlessly on his glass as he speaks. “And my Slytherin students were behaving themselves. I heard you’d had a particularly troublesome group of sixth years…”

  “You could have asked me yourself.” You maintain.

  Severus doesn’t have an answer for that. Instead he inhales sharply before pushing the glass away and rising from the table, “If you’ll excuse me, I have papers that need marking before the morning.” He then proceeds to stalk away through the Hall and back off to the dungeons.

---

  When Saturday rolls around it’s the coldest day of the season yet. The skies are a brilliant blue and the sun bathes the morning in a soft, yellow glow, but the wind carries with it a bitter chill.

  “Morning Severus.” You greet him with more enthusiasm than you’d planned to, and it seems to take him by surprise.

  “Yes, good morning.” He responds.

  “Ahem.”

  “Oh,” You look down to find Professor Flitwick standing beside Severus. “Morning, Filius.”

  “Chilly one this morning.” He mentions, rubbing his hands together as Professor McGonagall makes her appearance, too.

  “Filius,” she begins, “Do me a favour and help check the permission slips, would you?” Filius obliges and the two of them weave between the excited congregation of students and begin to establish some sort of order. Looking back up you find Severus watching you, but thankfully any impending discomfort is quickly dispelled when you spot Hagrid ambling his way over.

  “Mornin’ Professors!” He chimes with a smile. “Lovely day for it, eh?” You could swear Severus rolls his eyes as he turns and walks away in McGonagall’s direction.

  Once the students are safely in the vicinity of Hogsmeade and have dispersed eagerly between the many different shops it has to offer – the most popular of which being Honeyduke’s and Zonko’s – yourself and the other teachers pile into The Three Broomsticks and make yourselves comfortable in a quiet corner, nestled close to the fireplace.

  Hagrid takes up one entire side of the rickety wooden table, whilst McGonagall and Flitwick share the other side. You place yourself at one end, leaving Severus to sit at the other.

  “Lovely to see you all, Professors! And what can I get you today?” You recognise the woman serving you as Madame Rosmerta, landlady and bartender of The Three Broomsticks.

  “I’ll have a Butterbeer, thank you.” McGonagall replies.

  “Make that two, please.” You decide.

  “Steaming Stout if yeh don’ mind, thanks.” Hagrid responds.

  “Pint of Knotgrass, please.” Flitwick orders.

  “Just, a Gillywater.” Severus requests.

  It doesn’t take long for conversation to turn to Hagrid’s vegetable garden once again, and he proudly tells the others all about his impressively large pumpkins. You lean forward and rest your elbows on the table, sipping from your Butterbeer and listening to Hagrid, even though you’ve already heard everything he has to say about Flesh-Eating Slugs and Bowtruckles. Severus doesn’t even pretend to be interested in the conversation (not that Hagrid has noticed this), and as you glance up and peer through the cloud of steam emitting from Hagrid’s Simison Steaming Stout, you catch his eyes flitting away from you once again.

  Maybe it’s the relaxed atmosphere, or the soothing Butterbeer which incites a fondness toward him, but the next time you catch Severus’ eye you relay a warm smile. And remarkably, he doesn’t hesitate to return it.

  By one o’clock in the afternoon your eyes are heavy and you’re feeling sleepy from sitting in the warmth of the Inn for so long. You pay for your share of the drinks (1 Galleon, 3 Sickles and 13 Knuts) and excuse yourself from the group to take a breath of fresh air. Stepping outside you remember how biting the air is, although it’s warmed a little since this morning, you still have to wrap your cloak right around you to keep off the chill.

  “If I have to listen to Hagrid talking about those bloody pumpkins one more time-”

  “Severus, you startled me.” You huff.

  “Well, I wasn’t going to let you leave me alone with them.” He nods in the direction of the Inn.

  You can’t help but chuckle, clearly a day spent making pleasantries with the likes of Hagrid isn’t Severus’ idea of fun. What is Severus’ idea of fun, you wonder?

  “So you’d rather be alone with me?” The sentence tumbles from your mouth before you have a chance to consider what you’re saying. The corner of his lips twitches and Severus exhales softly, looking just as uncomfortably perturbed as you do. “I didn’t, I just meant-”

  Severus raises his eyebrows, “I know.” He assures you, and you hurriedly turn away to study a display of cauldron’s in the nearby window of Ceridwen’s, as though they’re exceptionally fascinating (they’re not).

  “So um,” you finally begin – having decided you can’t pretend to be interested in the cauldron’s any longer – “I think I’ll go for a walk, might pop into Honeydukes. I guess I’ll see you on the way back to the school?”

  Severus nods slowly. “I think I’ll head back inside… Might need something stronger than a Gillywater…” He mutters as he wanders back toward the Inn. “…Shot of Bilshen’s, wouldn’t go amiss…”

  You spend the remainder of the afternoon browsing the many shops of Hogsmeade Village. You make a stop at Honeydukes to purchase some Sugar Quills, Treacle Fudge and your favourite Peppermint Toads. You consider the Jelly Slugs, too, but hearing Hagrid talk about slugs so much has put you off the idea. You pop in to Tomes and Scrolls to browse the books but don’t end up buying anything, and then into Scrivenshaft’s for a new pot of ink.

  By three o’clock, all the students are accounted for and everyone treks their way back to the castle; most of them still humming with excitement as they share with each other all of the things they’d bought during the day – which turned out to mostly be sweets and jokes, little to anyone’s surprise. You want to ask Severus how his afternoon in The Three Broomsticks had been, but there’s such a befuddling tension between the two of you every time you speak, you decide it’s probably best not to engage him in conversation again.

---

  Your interactions with Severus over the following weeks continue to be predominantly brief ones, but you find yourself looking forward to your encounters more and more with each passing day. You’ve warmed to the Potions Master, and you’re sure he’s taken a liking you, too.

  “Good evening, Argus. Happy Hallowe’en.” You greet the caretaker pleasantly in the corridor on your way to the Great Hall, undeterred by his constant miserable and ill-tempered nature.

  “Good, is it? Happy? Three dungbombs and a room filled with Luminous Balloons I’ve had to deal with already today…” He grumbles. Picturing Filch trying to dispose of Non-Explodable Luminous Balloons is admittedly very amusing, and you have to try not to laugh. “I catch the student responsible there’ll be hell to pay…” His face is positively furious as he slogs away, muttering to himself about hanging students up by the ankles in the lesser-used part of the dungeon so no one would hear them scream.

  “Good luck with that!” You call after him, chuckling to yourself as you turn into the Great Hall.

  The Hallowe’en feast is as spectacular as you remember it being. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall holds the hundred or so of Hagrid’s lovingly grown pumpkins, all of which have been intricately carved with spooky faces and are glowing a magnificent orange as they bob above the feast-laden tables below; there’s toffee apples and piles of colourful sweets cascading from goblets, pumpkin pies and giant orange lollipops, cauldron cakes, gingerbread ghosts and jam tarts stacked in sumptuous piles. The Hogwarts ghosts are on top form, putting on an outstanding display of crashing through windows, and emerging through walls to swoop back and forth through the Hall.

  The only person who doesn’t seem to be having a tremendous evening, is Severus. He seems even more displeased and melancholy than usual. “You should try some pumpkin pie,” you offer, trying to make conversation.

  He stares at the pie and doesn’t look at you. “Not hungry.” He affirms.

  You shrug, trying to decide between a cauldron cake or a jam tart, concluding you could always take the latter back to your room to eat later on. “Is something the matter, Severus?” you ask quietly so as not to allow the other professors to overhear.

  He looks solemn, but the expression quickly turns bitter as he leaves the table and exits through the door behind you, without so much as a word. You stand to go after him, not just out of concern but quite honestly you’re growing tired of his tendency to switch between affable and aloof so abruptly; one moment he wants to know everything about your day and the next he can’t stand to look at you.

  You get as far as the door when you feel a hand on your arm. It’s Dumbledore. “I understand your concern for Severus, but consider, for one moment… What day is it?” A befuddled expression rests on your face.

  “It’s Hallowe’en, Professor Dumbledore.”

  “It is indeed, the thirty-first of October.” He agrees. “Two years to the day since the disappearance of The Dark Lord. Although we all rejoice in his defeat, you must remember how hard times were. We all lost people we loved.” He looks you directly in the eyes and your mind drifts back to when you’d read Severus’ palm. “For some,” He glances toward the door, “tonight is only a reminder of those who are no longer with us.”

  There’s a sudden ache in your chest you hadn’t expected to feel. You’d been so preoccupied enjoying the festivities you hadn’t actually given the date much thought. “I understand, Professor.” You nod, sorrowfully.

  Dumbledore squeezes your arm gently. “I trust you to do the right thing.” He smiles, before returning to the feast and leaving you to wonder what exactly he means by the right thing.

  You opt to remain until the evening is over, waiting for the tables to clear and for the majority of students to retire to their dormitories before leaving. But when you exit the Great Hall you find yourself unable to head straight back to your quarters; instinct persuading you toward the dungeons. If there is one thing you know, it’s to always trust your intuition.

  You’re anxious. Standing on the outside of Severus’ office you consider taking off up the dungeon stairs and back to the comfort of your own room. What if he doesn’t want to talk? What if he just wants to be left alone? But it’s too late; without thinking you’ve already knocked on the door and a moment later, Severus emerges on the other side of it. At first it looks as though he might close the door right back up in your face. But instead, with a silent wave of his hand he gestures for you to enter. You close the door behind you.

  Severus’ office is a relatively oval space, with tall arches and high ceilings. Its cold stone walls might’ve emitted an uncomfortable atmosphere, if it weren’t for the warm glow of the many candles and lanterns which illuminate the space. Books and scrolls lay piled around the edges of the room, and betwixt black leather armchairs sits numerous empty vials and flasks.

  “He killed someone you loved, didn’t he?” You come right out with your question.

  Severus exhales a long, slow breath and paces around the other side of his circular, scroll-strewn desk, trailing his hand obliviously along the shelves which are stacked high with jars and bottles of every potion ingredient imaginable. “Her name was Lily.” He admits. “And yes, I loved her deeply.”

  “I’m sorry.” Though it seems a feeble offering, you lack any other words. He’s silent as you round the table to stand behind him.

  “I’ve never cared for anyone the way I cared for her,” His tone is softer than you’ve heard it before, “not until…” His words dissolve as you place a comforting hand on his arm.

  He turns to face you; his penetrating black eyes are fixed on yours and you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable. Your hand traces down his sleeve until your fingers lightly brush the back of his hand. He moves closer; only inches remain between you both and your heart thuds so violently in your chest you’re sure he can hear it. Your bodies are close enough you can feel the warmth radiating from him, and your eyes are no longer able to focus on his. But as suddenly as you found yourself in this situation, the world comes tumbling back around you and Severus very swiftly pulls his hand away from yours.

  “I think you should go.” He insists, turning his back to you.

  You want to comfort him; to understand his grief and lessen the pain. You want to be near him, for reasons you can’t understand. What you don’t want to do, is leave.

  “Severus-”

  “Just,” He swallows hard. “Get out.” His words carry a twinge of regret and he lowers his gaze.

  “Fine...” You mutter dejectedly, before circling the desk and stepping out of the office, closing the door forcefully behind you. You lean up against it and gaze upward at the stone ceiling above you. Taking a deep breath, you try to make sense of whatever it was that just happened between Severus and yourself, replaying the moment over and over in your mind.

  Your thoughts are interrupted by the shuffle of approaching footsteps, and a group of Slytherin’s carrying armfuls of sweets and cauldron cakes emerge at the bottom of the staircase. You clear your throat and compose yourself before brushing past them and heading back upstairs to your room, where without a doubt, you won’t be able to sleep for thoughts of Severus.

Chapter Text

Sunday, 6^th November 1983

  The rest of that week you hardly saw Severus at all. Not at meals times, not in the staff room, not even prowling the corridors to berate troublesome students. You didn’t know whether to put it down to his simply being busy, or whether he was avoiding you on purpose. Either way, the more you thought about it, the more you began to resent him. And what’s more, you resented yourself for spending so much time thinking about him. He certainly wasn’t going to waste his time filling his head with thoughts of you, was he? Was he?

  Each night when you lay in bed and close your eyes you can still see him – feel him – in front of you. His presence overbearing as he stands before you. You can still feel his hand; the way his fingers brushed yours. When you breathe deeply you can still smell him; leather-bound books and a hint of musk. He’d been so close to you; the tension unbearable.

  You long to be closer to Severus.

  “Stop being so stupid.” You scold yourself. Perhaps a carefully executed Oblivate charm might make you forget about him. Or maybe some form of anti-lusting potion. Potions of course would require another trip to the dungeons and a thorough browse of Severus’ ingredient store. No, there’s nothing for it. You’ll just have to occupy your mind with something else.

  Fortunately, the upcoming and first Quidditch match of the year is at the very forefront of everybody’s minds this week, and is all anyone manages to talk about. Gryffindor Vs Slytherin.

  “Come on, you know Gryffindor will win this one. They’ve been training for over a month. I heard Slytherin only started practice three weeks ago.” A proud Gryffindor fourth year announces.

  “But Slytherin have the best seeker in the whole school, Gryffindor have no chance.” A Ravenclaw girl disagrees.

  “Who needs a great seeker when you have the best chasers? Gryffindor has Vosper, have you seen him fly?!”

  “Doesn’t matter who wins Saturday, Ravenclaw are taking the Quidditch cup this year!” An argument between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students breaks out in the middle of Wednesday afternoon’s Divination lesson. It takes a small explosion of brilliant green sparks from the tip of your wand to quiet the class and bring their attention back to the matter at hand (Taking notes from Bathilda Bagshot’s Omens, Oracles and the Goat)

  “Professor, can’t you tell us who’ll win?” One of the Ravenclaw boys asks.

  “No. I can’t.” You respond. Even if you wanted to ruin the thrill of who would win the match, these things aren’t set in stone and no amount of crystal ball gazing is going to determine the result (Your intuition – although you won’t admit it – does lean to one team over the other, however).

  “So much for clairvoyance…” He mutters.

  “Perhaps if you focused more on your Divination studies and put a little more effort into your homework, you might deduce the winner for yourself, hm?” You propose. “And on the subject of homework, I’d like ‘An overview of Divination practices through 1900-1950, with references from Omens, Oracles and the Goat’, due next Wednesday.” There’s the usual collective groan as the students scramble to make note of the homework and pack away their books.

---

  “You’ll be attending the match tomorrow Morning?” McGonagall makes conversation in the staff room later that evening.

  You nod in response. “Wouldn’t miss it.” You tell her eagerly.

  “You’ll be cheering on Slytherin, I suppose?” There’s a slight discontent in her voice (as head of Gryffindor house, they’re of course her favoured team).

  You grin, “I suppose I will.” Despite not wanting to show bias toward any house, you can’t deny your Slytherin roots. The thought has crossed your mind, however, of Severus being present at the match tomorrow, but you fully intend to take absolutely no notice of him. After all, you are trying to keep him out of your mind.

  There’s a buzz all through the castle the next morning as almost the entire school hurries through breakfast and makes their way out to the freezing Quidditch pitch; November has brought with it howling winds and bitter rain, and it shows no signs of brightening up for the day’s match.

  Wrapped in a warm cloak and a thick woollen scarf, you trek down to the pitch and climb up amongst the stands to take your seat alongside the other Professors, school governors and parents in attendance. The crowd is already cheering in anticipation of their favoured team; with half the attendees embellished in colours of red and gold, and the other a sea of green and silver.

  “Morning.” Severus’ unmistakably silky voice is an abrupt distraction when he takes a seat beside you in the stands. Why, you wonder, why does he chose to sit right here? It’s been nearly two weeks since your encounter in his office and you haven’t been this close to him since. So much for your intentions to ignore him.

  You open your mouth to bid him a good morning but the crowd erupts in a gigantic cheer as the Quidditch teams launch onto the pitch, led by the Team Captains. You clap and cheer for both teams as they circle the stands, trying not to pay attention to the way Severus applauds only for his own house, but subsequently failing to ignore him.

  “Welcome to the first match of the season, and what is sure to be an explosive game of Quidditch! Gryffindor versus Slytherin!” An enthusiastic sixth year girl fervidly announces the match, stirring up the crowd into a frenzy of cheering and whooping.

  The players take their places above the pitch as Madam Hooch releases the balls; the Bludgers shoot straight up into the air; already aiming to knock players off their brooms. Next is the Golden Snitch, zooming off into the clouded sky and disappearing from sight within moments, and then the Quaffle is released, signalling the beginning of the game.

  “And they’re off! Vosper for Gryffindor in possession of the Quaffle, headed for the goal, he shoots, oh no that’s a miss! Slytherin in possession-”

  You watch the players eagerly, but you’re still very aware of the close proximity of Severus and the way his knee accidently knocks into yours.

  “Gudgeon makes a dive, has he spotted the Snitch?!”

  Just ignore him, you tell yourself.

 “Rosier for Slytherin takes the Quaffle, watch out for those Bludgers! Rosier shoots, and what a brilliant save from Gryffindor’s McCormack!”

  You try very hard to focus on the match.

  “Ten points to Gryffindor!”

  Gryffindor is the first to score points and you try not to look too disappointed.

  The sky darkens and rain begins to hammer down across the pitch. Visibility is poor and for a good ten minutes neither team scores; Gudgeon makes a couple of dives but it’s unclear if he’s seen the Snitch or if he’s trying deceptive tactics to mislead the Slytherin Seeker.

  “Slytherin scores! Ten points!” The sea of green and silver supporters erupt in a roar of approval and Severus applauds enthusiastically alongside you.

  But then there’s a collective cry of dismay as one of the Gryffindor Beater’s sends a Bludger hurtling toward a Slytherin Chaser and almost knocks her off her broom. Another ten minutes later, and Slytherin scores their second goal bringing the tally to Gryffindor: 10 | Slytherin: 20.

  The rain grows fiercer as the game rages on, with Gryffindor scoring another 40 points before the Golden Snitch is located again.

  “And Gudgeon’s off again!”

  This time there is a definite glint of gold whizzing through the sky and Gudgeon is gaining on it fast. Seemingly from nowhere, Slytherin’s Seeker hurtles across the pitch and the two Seekers find themselves side by side vying for the Golden Snitch. Meanwhile another two goals are scored by Gryffindor.

  “That brings the score to 70 – 20 in favour of Gryffindor!”

  An outburst of booing from the Slytherin supporters reverberates through the stands at the knowledge Gryffindor is winning. But then,

  “SLYTHERIN TEAM IS IN POSSESSION OF THE GOLDEN SNITCH! IT’S ALL OVER AND SLYTHERIN WINS WITH 170 POINTS TO GRYFFINDOR’S 70!”

  The explosion of applause from the Slytherin fans echoes across the pitch, while the Gryffindor fans slump down disappointedly in their seats. You rise to your feet along with the other Professors, failing to notice Severus and yourself are applauding louder than the rest of the spectators around you put together.

  Whilst the Slytherin team flies victory laps around the pitch and the crowd roars on, you contemplate addressing Severus about what happened Hallowe’en night. It’s been playing on your mind continually and perhaps clearing the air will be the best way to resolve the uncomfortable atmosphere between the two of you.

  Once the teams have retired and the stands begin to empty, you summon the courage to ask, “Severus, can we talk?”

  “Not here.” He replies, softly. “Three o’clock, this afternoon by the lake.”

---

  The hours seem to drag by as you wait for three o’clock to roll around. By half past two, the rain has thankfully cleared up and you wrap up in your cloak and decide to head down to the Great Lake. The day is still an exceptionally grey and miserable one, and your boots squelch over the sodden earth as you cross the grounds toward the pebbled shore to wait for Severus.

  As you settle against a large rock you observe the tentacles of the Giant Squid twisting up from the water and coiling in the air momentarily, before receding back into the depths of the lake. There’s no sign of Severus yet, and you decide to take a small handful of smooth pebbles from the ground and attempt to skim them over the water’s surface. You’re not very good at it, but it’s a distraction from the unsettling flutter of nerves in your stomach.

  “You’re terrible at that.” He seemingly emerges from nowhere, startling you.

  You don’t look up. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  Severus sighs. “I have my reasons.” He utters, an indication of regret in his tone.

  You frown, finally turning to look him in the eye. “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?”

  His lips part, but he fails to find an answer to your question. After what seems like an eternity of silence, you turn back around and launch another pebble across the lake with more vigour than necessary – and it only frustrates you further when it sinks after a single skip across the surface. You hadn’t realised just how infuriated Severus was making you with his inability to just talk to you.

  “What happened between us at Hallowe’en,” you demand, “what was that, Severus?”

  “It wasn’t anything.” He insists.

  “Only because you stopped it.” You raise your arm ready to catapult another stone, but Severus unexpectedly seizes you and pulls you back around to face him, causing you to drop it.

  “You have no idea…” His eyes soften and your chest tightens.

  “What-” You struggle to form a sentence as Severus lifts a hand to your face; his fingers lightly brushing your cheek; cold from the wind yet comforting all the same.

  “I’ve tried not to.” He closes his eyes momentarily and draws a slow breath. “I’ve really tried not to think about… You. This.”

  “Severus, I…” You don’t know how to respond. It was obvious he felt something toward you and now he’s finally admitted it, you have no idea what to say to him. Because you feel exactly the same way.

  “But we can’t do this.” His hand lowers from your face.

  There’s a sudden ache in your chest.  Disappointment engulfs you even though you know he’s right. Starting a relationship with another Professor at Hogwarts, barely two months into your first term, should not be your priority. And Severus? Severus is a complicated man at the best of times. Dumbledore’s words resound in your head… I trust you to do the right thing. What is the right thing? Right now the only thing you want, is Severus.

  You nod, slowly. “I know.” Except, you don’t.

  “I like you.” He attempts somewhat of a smile. “Not just… I mean you’re the most tolerable of all the witches or wizards in this place.” You’re not entirely sure tolerable is all that complimentary, but coming from Severus, you’ll take it. “I want us to be friends.”

  Friends. You sigh, trying to put all thoughts of anything more than friendship out of your mind completely. What’s meant to be, will be, you decide. “Sure.” Your efforts to hide your regret behind a feigned smile isn’t lost on Severus, and disappointment dwells his eyes, too.

---

  Another week passes and the end of November draws ever nearer. The castle grows colder and the nights longer, with talk now turning to December and the Christmas break. Your Divination lessons go well, with many of the students receiving satisfactory or above marks in their work, and all without you predicting the dismal demise of even a single student (a feat which doesn’t go unnoticed by Dumbledore, who congratulates you one Thursday lunchtime on your lack of death-related prophecies).

  Interactions between Severus and yourself are amicable once more. But you can’t deny the way the two of you glance fondly at one another on occasion, when you think the other isn’t looking; burying your desire to be closer to him proves difficult, but manageable. But at night your thoughts stray, again unchecked, and you dream continuously of being in his arms; your hands in his; his lips on yours.

  Having come to your senses one Friday morning after another intensely passionate dream, you find yourself wondering if Severus is having just as much trouble reining in his desires as you are. Your question is somewhat answered that evening…

  “Good day?” You ask Severus during dinner.

  “Adequate… Made all the better by my deduction of twenty points from Gryffindor this afternoon, after two fifth year’s thought it amusing to cast an Ebublio Jinx, on Filch’s cat.” You giggle at the thought of Filch trying to catch Mrs. Norris as she floats away in a giant bubble.

  “I noticed Slytherin are currently house lead...” You mention. Ravenclaw is a close second and Gryffindor third, leaving Hufflepuff trailing at number four.

  Severus nods. “We’re doing well this year.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

  “I thought you weren’t showing any favouritism between houses?” He smirks.

  It’s true. You had said that at the beginning of term. “Must be spending too much time around you.”

  He raises an eyebrow and returns to his Lasagne. After a few minutes of eating in silence, he abruptly asks, “do you have any plans tomorrow?”

  Tomorrow is Saturday, and your plans mostly consist of marking homework and thinking about Severus. You keep the latter to yourself. “Just some marking.”

  “I was thinking about, heading to Hogsmeade.” He hesitates. “Thought perhaps, you’d like to join me for a drink at The Hog’s Head?”

  “Just me and you?” Doesn’t sound like a good idea, considering.

  Severus pauses and with a gentle shrug responds, “just as friends.”

  “Oh, of course.” Yes, friends. Severus suggesting just the two of you alone, having drinks in a dingy and disreputable pub but you’re just, friends. “Sure, it’ll be nice to get out of the castle for a bit.” Away from everyone else. Alone. With Severus.

---

  You greet him in the entrance courtyard at five o’clock Saturday afternoon; the sun is already beginning to set, and it’s been another cold day. But you’re quick to forget the cold as the two of you walk side by side along the path through the grounds, and out of the front gate toward Hogsmeade Village.

  You’d only visited The Hog’s Head Inn once before; in your fifth year at Hogwarts. The Inn’s reputation and unwelcoming aura left you feeling particularly intimidated and henceforth, you hadn’t visited again; choosing instead to frequent the Three Broomsticks. But being in the company of Severus evokes an assurance you’ll be more welcome there, this time.

  “You heard all about Aberforth’s arrest last year, I suppose?” Severus makes conversation on the way to the Inn.

  You had, of course, heard all about the arrest of Aberforth Dumbledore, owner of The Hogs Head. “Inappropriate charms?” You reply.

  “On a goat, no less.” Severus chuckles. “Still, drinks are drinks and I prefer the quieter atmosphere.”

  And quieter though it may be, it isn’t the most pleasant of all the wizarding pubs you’ve been to. Severus holds the door open for you as you enter; the straw and sawdust which graces the floor adheres to the bottom of your damp boots, and the unusual odour of the Inn engulfs you. You take a seat at a small table in the far corner – brushing the cobwebs from the old wooden chair first – whilst Severus orders drinks at the bar from the man you recognise, as Aberforth (his hair and beard is not dissimilar to Professor Dumbledore’s, if a little shorter).

  You’re gazing up at the impressively large, mounted head of a boar when Severus returns with two shots of Firewhisky and two bottled Daisyroot Draught’s.

  “Bilshen’s Firewhisky?” You comment.

  “You prefer Ogden’s Old?” He asks. You don’t have a preference. You don’t drink whisky at all, truth be told. “He did offer glasses for the beers, but…” He gestures to the shot glasses as he sits down opposite you, the state of which tells you enough.

  “That’s fine.” You thank him, and swiftly drink back the Firewhisky – cleaning the edge of the glass with your sleeve, first – and exhale sharply as the burning, cinnamon infused liquor sears your insides. “Wow. That’s, something.” You gasp, clearing your throat.

  Severus smirks, and swallows down his own drink. “They say, it gives the drinker courage.” He informs you, turning the now-empty glass between his fingers.

  “I think that’s true of most drinks, isn’t it?” You shrug, take a sip of your Daisyroot – wiping the dust from the top of the bottle first – and settle back in your chair, wondering just how much Firewhisky it’d take for you to find the courage to tell Severus exactly how you feel about him.

  Fortunately, Severus begins talking before you can dwell too much on it. “Tell me, then, what you did after you left Hogwarts? Your family are Muggles, if I’m not mistaken?”

  “Yes, my father’s a builder, and my mother’s a school teacher. So, as you’d imagine she was happy when I got the job teaching at Hogwarts. I had a part time job at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley for a few months,” Severus looks moderately interested, given his fondness for potions, “Then I interned at The Daily Prophet for a bit.” You sip your drink.

  “The Apothecary didn’t take your fancy, then?”

  “It was okay… But I was hoping to work on the Prophet’s astrology column. Of course when I saw Hogwarts was looking for a Divination Professor, even a temporary one, it seemed like the right choice to make.”

  “Your talents would’ve been wasted at the Daily Prophet anyway… Not particularly credible, in my opinion.”

  “It was a job,” you defend. “And my astrological interpretations are accurate, I’ll have you know.”

  His lips curls, “I don’t doubt it.”

  “I’d offer to prophesise your immediate future, but…” You aren’t going to attempt that again.

  You watch as Severus extends his fingers and gazes at his exposed palm momentarily, before retracting again. He takes another swig of his beer, and then reaches across the small table to gently grasp your own hand, turning it palm upwards. The unexpected sensation of his hand wrapping around yours causes you to take a sharp breath.

  “Tell me…” His voice is low and the words roll softly from his lips. He draws his finger across your palm. “What would this line, tell me?”

  “That’s,” Your mouth is suddenly dry. “The life line.”

  “Mm hmm…” He traces his forefinger over another line. “And this one?” You look up to find his eyes are focused on your expression.

  “Fate. That’s the fate line.” You respond, tearing your gaze away from his.

  “And this?” He follows another line across your hand.

  “Health.”

  He then makes a final stroke, catching your eye again as he does so.

  “Line of the heart…” You murmur, unable to look away this time.

  “The heart?” You watch his lips as he echoes you; the way his tongue lingers on the letter T.

  Eventually Severus regains composure and withdraws his hand from yours. Just as well he does, since you find yourself unable to move. You swallow hard, and reclaiming the use of your limbs you return to your drink, wondering what in the name of Merlin he’s playing at. Just friends. Friends don’t look at each other like that, you remind yourself.

  “Another drink?” He offers.

  As enticing as another shot of flaming courage might be, you decline, preferring to stick with the Daisyroot. “So you’ve been teaching… Two years now?” You try to make less awkward conversation.

  “This is my third year, yes.” He nods.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way but… Why? You don’t seem… All that fond of, you know, students.”

  “I made a promise to Dumbledore. A promise I intend to keep. Subsequently, I continue teaching at Hogwarts. And it’s not that I’m not fond of them…” He rebuts, “Those who possess the understanding and ability to excel in my classes…” He glances at you. “Are worth my time.”

  You manage to keep the conversation respectably modest for the following hour, even with the intermittent glances of ardent tension and the accidental grazing of your fingertips on more than one occasion… Eventually, when you conclude you can’t take anymore of gazing at Severus desirously, you decide you should probably head back to the castle.

  Severus courteously leads the way, lighting the dark path back to the castle with a lumos charm. You don’t manage to say very much on your way back, and Severus walks you right to your quarters on the sixth floor before bidding you a good-night.

  “I don’t get it.” You mutter, stopping him before he can leave.

  “Don’t get… What?” Severus questions.

  “You. Us.” Maybe it was the drinks, but you can’t help yourself as the words come tumbling out. “First there’s… Hallowe’en. And then, you don’t want to know me. Then you admit you, like me, but insist we should just be friends? And then, there we are. Just you and I, drinking and… And, whatever it is we’re doing.” You stammer.

  He raises his brow. “We’re not, doing anything. We’re…” He shrugs, presumably for lack of knowing what to say.

  “That’s the problem, Severus. We’re not doing anything.”

  He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re interrupted by Filch prowling around the corner. “Evening, Professors…” He mumbles, eyeing you both curiously.

  You simply huff as Severus opens his mouth hesitantly, but says nothing as he glances between Filch and yourself. You open the door to your room, and without another word, disappear inside slamming the door shut on the both of them. You’re damned if you care what conclusions Filch draws, and Severus is on your very last nerve; charming you the way he does just to walk away at the end of it all.

  That’s it, you resolve, flopping down onto the bed. You’re not going to waste any more energy thinking about Severus Snape. You’re going to go to sleep, not dream about him, wake up in the morning and hole up in the Divination Tower all day, focusing on lesson plans. Rinse and repeat. And if you have to see Severus, you’ll just not speak to him.

  Simple.

Chapter Text

Friday, 9^th December 1983 

  The beginning of December brings with it the first of the season’s snowfall. If students weren’t busy excitedly discussing the next scheduled Hogsmeade trip, they were making plans for Christmas, and by the sounds of it most of them were planning to return to their families this year. Hogwarts would be quiet this Christmas break.

  Your attitude toward Severus was comparable to the weather conditions. It wasn’t that your cold demeanour was fuelled by a hatred of him. It wasn’t even that you didn’t want to talk to him. It was simply that your heart ached at the thought he’d never be yours and you’d never be his; because he wouldn’t let you be.

  Busying yourself with teaching, lesson planning and homework marking was a great distraction, and for the most part, your students were doing incredibly well. “That was an excellent essay on Dream Interpretation, I’m very impressed.” You commend one of you more promising fifth year students as they pack away their belongings at the end of that afternoon.

  Waiting until the classroom is empty and the lesson’s books are neatly packed away on the shelves, you decide to go for a short stroll across the grounds. The late afternoon sunlight and brisk air helps to wake you up after another day spent in the Divination classroom; the ambience of which often made you incredibly sleepy.

  Despite the cold you’d had quite the pleasant walk, until you’d reached the top of the stairs on the sixth floor and were about to turn the corner toward your quarters.

  “I’ve been looking for you.” His voice is as smooth and distinctive as ever.

  You frown, brushing past Severus and heading toward your door.

  He follows behind you; his strides larger than yours he reaches the door first and pivots, before extending his arm and placing a hand on the stone surround, blocking the doorway.

  “Please, get out of my way.” You insist, irritably.

  Severus glances momentarily around the empty hallway. “I can’t.” He hesitates, his eyes are heavy as they roam over your features. “You…” He swallows. “You’re all I can think about.”

  Oh. Oh.

  Your words don’t want to work. Your heart begins to thud. Your legs feel suddenly quite weak. Why were you ignoring him again? All rational thought leaves you immediately and your instinct pleads with you to tell him you feel the same. “Severus…” Your voice is scarcely a whisper and your focus settles on his lips.

  But you don’t need words.

  He moves closer and you lose focus altogether, closing your eyes as his hand trails slowly up your arm and his fingers curl through your hair; his thumb coming to rest on your cheek. Then his lips brush yours; softly and gently he kisses you. You melt into him and it’s like the world comes to a standstill around you; your hands gliding over the breast of his dark navy overcoat as you return his advances.

  You’re so absorbed in the moment you don’t even give thought to the idea someone might see you. But you don’t care; you’ve waited for this for too long.

  Severus lowers his hand from the cold stone and places it around your waist. He pulls you closer, eliminating the space between your bodies. It could’ve lasted seconds, or hours; it still wouldn’t have been enough.

  Reluctantly he releases you, and allows you to catch your breath. “I’m sorry…” He mutters.

  You shake your head gently, losing yourself in his eyes. “Don’t-”

  “No, I’m sorry for, being so foolish.” Coming from Severus Snape, that can’t be an easy admission to make. You place your hand on his cheek and he relaxes against your touch. “Apparently, I can fool everyone else, maybe even you, but I can’t fool myself.”

  A hint of a smile graces your lips. “You think you had me fooled?” Yes, because the evening at The Hogs Head was so very subtle, Severus…

  “Forgive me?”

  How could you not?

  Once again, no words can convey quite how you feel and so instead you guide him back toward you and reignite the kiss; his mouth colliding deliciously with yours. But just as you begin to lose yourself again you’re interrupted by an offended mewing from the other end of the corridor.

  Severus dissolves the embrace and sharply turns his eyes toward the sound. Mrs. Norris.

  “She’s just a cat.” You maintain.

  He glances back at you. “No, she’s Filch’s cat.” He mutters, removing his hand from your waist and stepping away, before moving toward Mrs. Norris.

  As usual, her owner isn’t far away and Filch appears almost as suddenly as his cursed cat had, uttering a delighted, “What is it my sweet, what’ve you found?” His eyes fix on Severus at first, and then travel to you.

  Severus withdraws his wand from the folds of his cloak as he advances on Filch. “Whatever you think, you know about any of my private, business… You can think again. Or I’ll have you out of Hogwarts faster than your impaired Squib intellect can even comprehend the meaning of Evanesco.”

  Threatening Filch with a vanishing charm seems a little excessive, but then again, what would Dumbledore think if he knew two of his teachers were involved the way you and Severus are?

  Filch, for the first time in all the time you’ve known him, seems genuinely intimidated by Severus’ threat. “No idea what you’re talking about, Professor, wouldn’t dream of meddling in your private business, Sir.” He smiles gingerly and steps around Severus. Mrs. Norris follows after him.

  You wait until Filch is completely out of sight before speaking again. “I should, probably go.” You submit, regrettably.

  Severus is still standing at the opposite end of the corridor. “I’ll see you at dinner?” He asks.

  You nod with a soft smile, before entering you room and closing the door. Your mind races. Your heart races. Did that really happen? Did Severus really, finally confess his attraction to you, and then do something about it? You sink down into an armchair in front of the fireplace and take a deep breath, composing yourself and your thoughts. Perhaps Severus is escorting the trip to Hogsmeade again tomorrow. You hope so.

  When you arrive in The Great Hall for dinner later that evening, Pomona decides that now is the opportune moment tell you all about the disastrous Herbology lesson she’d had the misfortune of teaching on Thursday. “Mistreatment of a Mimbulus Mimbletonia! The rancid stench of its Stinksap when the foolish boys were done prodding it, my word… The third years didn’t know what was going on. Had to evacuate the entire greenhouse the smell was so bad!”

  You can sense Severus’ gaze from beside you but only once did you manage to divert your attention from Pomona to Severus, before she continued on about Screechsnap seedlings and how she’d been on the lookout for Leaping Toadstools in the Forbidden Forest. Of course, once the Forbidden Forest had been mentioned, Hagrid joined in the conversation too and you had no chance of escaping to converse with Severus.

  It’s not until everyone had finished eating and the Hall was emptying, that you managed to ask Severus about Hogsmeade.

  “Indeed, I’ll be accompanying the Hogsmeade trip tomorrow. Thinking of, coming?” He inquires.

  “Yes, as it happens.” You smile, content to hear Severus is going too.

  “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning, then?” He lingers for longer than necessary before uttering, “Have a good night.” And you watch him disappear off toward the dungeons.

---

  On Saturday everyone awakes to find The Great Hall has been most elegantly decorated. It’s lined with enormous trees, spectacularly adorned with colours of red and gold, and littered with pinecones and tiny floating candles. From the bewitched ceiling falls graceful, glittering snowflakes, and the magnificent hearth holds a roaring fire which bathes the Hall in a pleasant glow.

  You eat breakfast – a warming bowl of porridge – sitting in your usual seat beside Severus. You comment on the splendour of the years’ Christmas decorations, inquiring as to whether he intends to participate in the festivities by decorating his Potions classroom.

  “It’s nice, though, bit of decoration.” You urge.

  He delivers an unimpressed expression. “I can assure you my students have better things to focus on than whether or not my classroom is bedecked with mistletoe and baubles.” He maintains.

  “Aw, no mistletoe?” You smirk, looking away from him.

  “Perhaps exceptions can be made for certain… Individuals.” He responds, his tone suggestive.

  As much as you’d rather be in the company of Severus, you walk the snow-laden path to Hogsmeade Village alongside Hagrid. You enjoy talking with Hagrid; he always has something fascinating to tell you about some beast or magical creature he’s encountered or been learning about, and it genuinely piques your interest. Usually. But today you can’t focus on anything other than the thought of kissing Severus again.

  Once in Hogsmeade, the students are quick to disperse; some of them are talking about venturing nearer to the Shrieking Shack, others planning to converge on The Three Broomsticks to warm up a little, and many are keen for another trip to Honeydukes. A couple of the students disappear for a snowball fight, whilst McGonagall and the others suggest heading inside for a warming mug of Cocoa or a tankard of hot Butterbeer.

  You glance at Severus. “I think I might go for a walk, actually.”

  “Suit yourself,” McGonagall replies, as the others make their way inside. “Severus?” She offers.

  He pauses, as though looking for an excuse. “Ceridwen’s.” He announces casually. “Cauldrons.”

  “I see. Well, if you change your mind you know where we are.” And with that she disappears into The Three Broomsticks.

  “Cauldrons?” You question.

  He smirks and sidles up to walk alongside you. “Don’t mind if I join you on your walk, do you?”

  “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

  You wander further through the village of Hogsemeade, past the major outlets and street vendors selling hot roasted chestnuts and colourful gingerbread houses – of which, you notice, have been bewitched with little smoking chimneys and glowing windows.

  It’s not until you’re away from the hustle and bustle of the shops and students, that Severus slows his pace and takes your hand, guiding you into a quiet alleyway beneath an archway which bridges two lesser-frequented shops.

  You peer around, apprehensively. “Severus, what if someone sees us?” He takes both your hands, entwining your fingers with his, and steers you smoothly against the wall of the narrow avenue.

  “They won’t.” He promises.

  It’s impossible to resist his advances, and you immediately surrender yourself to his touch. His body presses against yours as he pins your hands by your sides; and within seconds his lips connect with yours. At first his approach is somewhat tender; each kiss delicate and lingering; the teasing, barely there kind which leave you longing for more.

  You kiss back, craving the taste of him as your teeth graze his bottom lip. The sensation provokes him to kiss you more keenly, and his tongue gently parts your lips to dip inside and collide softly with yours.

  Severus releases one hand and strays toward your neck, gripping your scarf and discarding it gradually, leaving him able to enclose his fingers lightly around your throat.

  He kisses you harder; your tongues now eagerly striving for dominance over one another. His fingers trail higher up your neck to your jaw and he tilts your head; steering each sensual kiss further along your jawline and down your neck.

  You whimper slightly when he presses you more firmly against the brickwork of the alley; each hot stroke of his tongue fuelling the fire ignited inside you. You separate your hand from his, wrapping your arms under his cloak as your lips reconnect.

  Pushing back against him, you move away from the wall and shift so your positions switch. Severus leans back, pulling you with him; you settle against his body and he cups your face with his hands. The kiss deepens and you grow breathless.

  Eventually, you manage to tear yourself away from Severus, resting you forehead against his and breathing heavily. “Severus,” you mumble; he kisses you delicately between words. “It’s cold…”

  “Mm hmm,” he hums.

  “Maybe-”Another kiss. “We should-” And another. “Go inside, somewhere?”

  He relaxes, locking eyes with you and exhaling slowly. “Hogs Head?” He pauses, “Just two professors, drinking, as friends.” Sounds convincing, so long as you can keep your hands off of one another.

  You smile against him, pressing your lips to his one more time before pulling away. You retrieve the scarf he’d so carelessly discarded (no, you didn’t actually mind) and make your way back onto the main thoroughfare, heading for The Hogs Head Inn.

  The Inn is relatively quiet, and warm and dry with a fireplace smouldering away in the corner. You approach the bar and order yourself a hot Butterbeer – Severus orders a whisky – and retire to a secluded corner.

  “What changed your mind,” you quietly ask, “about… You know, this?” You gesture between the two of you. Severus had been so adamant nothing should happen.

  “My mind was never changed.” He stares down at his drink. “I’ve wanted you from the moment you stepped foot back at Hogwarts. The second I saw you…”

  You place a hand gently on his arm.

  “But you were my student. I thought it, misguided, of me. Even to entertain the idea that you and I might-” he pauses and sips his whisky. “I still don’t think it pertinent…” he shifts his gaze and hesitates to speak; eyes fixed on yours. “But the way I feel, about you…”

  “I understand… Don’t think I wasn’t apprehensive. I was. I am.” Your hand drifts to rest on his and he subtly weaves his fingers between yours. “The last thing I want is, everyone knowing.” You huff, “Dumbledore would… Well he’d certainly have something to say.”

  “Then it stays our, little, secret.” Severus assures you.

  You smile, so distracted by his charm and the way his words are uttered so smoothly that you don’t notice the group of half dozen or so students who pile obtrusively into the Inn. Severus retracts his hand and clears his throat, before going back to his drink.

  Aberforth looks positively inconvenienced by the group as he wipes glasses behind the bar, but he serves them anyway. You watch from your corner as they all order drinks and then gather around one of the larger tables near a window. A couple of them happen to glance inquisitively in your direction and there’s a quiet murmur exchanged between them, followed by a muffled giggle before they look away again.

  Severus glares at them with his usual demeanour of animosity.

  Keeping your fondness for one other a secret isn’t going to be as easy as you might hope.

---

  The following week was a hectic one. So much so you’d scarcely seen Severus at all. It was the last week of term and almost all of the students were leaving Hogwarts for the holidays. You tried to fit in as much teaching as you could as well as setting homework for the holiday period (much to the disappointment of your classes). Dumbledore had wanted to meet with you to discuss how you’d settled in over the past few months and the progress of the students – specifically the fifth and seventh years who would be preparing to face their O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations in the New Year. He also took the opportunity to express once again, how happy he was you hadn’t predicted any student deaths.

  On Saturday you accompany the majority of the students to Hogsmeade Station along with Hagrid, seeing them off on the Hogwarts Express as they make the long Journey back to Platform Nine and Three Quarters to meet with their families.

  On the way back to the castle you thought about heading off to the Dungeons to see Severus (despite your busy schedule, he occupied your thoughts at every opportunity and idle minute). But Hagrid invited you to come for a cup of tea and a mince pie in his hut. And you didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

  “First term done with, then?” He mentions, pouring hot water into the tea cups as you sit at the large, round table. Glancing around you can’t help but marvel at the little Christmas tree Hagrid has managed to squeeze into his small house; it’s decorated with an assortment of colourful baubles and tinsel, which certainly don’t match, but look rather attractive all the same. “Enjoin’ yerself?”

  “Sorry?” You respond.

  “Teachin’? How’re yeh getting’ on with it?”

  “Oh. Oh yes it’s good. Busy, but I’m really enjoying it. Students are doing well. Dumbledore’s happy with how it’s going, too.” You’re actually rather proud of yourself.

  “Glad ter hear it.” He smiles broadly and offers you a mince pie. “So d’yeh think yeh’ll stay, after the summer that is?”

“Mm,” you mumble through a mouthful of mince pie. “I mean, if Dumbledore offers me something permanent. Of course I’d love to stay.”

  You spend most of your afternoon at Hagrid’s. He talks more about wanting a dog to keep him company, and discusses at length his fondness for each different species of dragon. By the time you leave it’s late in the afternoon and you’re ready to head to dinner.

  The Great Hall is quiet; only a handful of students chose to stay for the holidays, and many of the tables had been vanished away so those remaining could sit together. You absentmindedly count them as they sit for dinner… Six Slytherins, four Gryffindors, three Hufflepuffs, and two Ravenclaws.

  When Severus strolls confidently into the hall – with his black robes billowing behind him as often they did – you can’t help but shudder slightly, captivated by the sight of him. He catches your eye and you do your best to hide the smile that creeps across your lips.

  But you don’t have much opportunity to converse with him. Pomona ends up spending most of the evening talking to Severus about her latest yield of herbs and ingredients, and how she’ll pop down to the dungeons later to help him bottle up and store away the likes of the Tentacular venom, asphodel and Fluxweed harvest. The chances of spending time with Severus this evening have dissolved, but as you leave the Great Hall after dinner, Severus briefly catches your arm and subtly whispers, “My office. Tomorrow evening.”

---

  You arrive outside of Severus’ office on Sunday evening dressed decidedly more casually than usual (since it is the holidays now). Knocking once on the solid oak door, you pull down the black iron handle and step inside the room.

  Severus is sitting at his desk when you enter, absorbed in his work. His navy button-down jacket is loosened, and reveals the white shirt beneath. He’s motionless as his eyes flicker upward, but when he realises it’s you his expression softens somewhat, and he puts down his quill and stands from his chair.

  You close the door behind you as he approaches, and with a flick of his wand the door bolts itself shut and he discards the wand negligently onto the nearby leather armchair. All at once his hands cup your face and his lips are on yours. You falter backwards and he guides you hastily against the oak door so your back is pressed against it.

  His advances are fierce and his efforts are met with an equal intensity as you kiss him back. Your hands closes on his chest; gripping his shirt and pulling him closer still. His tongue divides your lips in search of yours; a heated collision of desperate passion.

  One hand travels down to your hip, and he tightens his grip on your jaw with the other. You moan faintly as his mouth proceeds to your neck; his kisses are deep; biting; his teeth grazing your skin as he grinds against you; his growing enthusiasm undeniably obvious.

  “Severus,” You gasp breathlessly and push his jacket off of his shoulders, and he releases you momentarily to shrug it onto the floor. And then his hands are back on you; strong and firm; working loose the buttons at your waist whilst his mouth silences yours with another delicious kiss.

  But before you can go any further there’s a hard knock on the door directly behind you. Severus ceases his actions immediately, breathing heavily against you; his chest rising and falling rapidly in time with yours. After a short silence comes another loud knock.

  Severus glowers at the door as you turn to move away from it. “Just, a minute.” He growls, snatching up his jacket from the floor and throwing it back on. You walk the short distance across the room and take a seat on the edge of Severus’ desk, pretending to be interested in a copy of Advanced Potion-Making, whilst he unbolts the door and flings it open indignantly.

  On the other side of the door is a rather nervous looking boy you recognise to be of Slytherin house.

  “What?” Severus demands, coldly.

  The boy glances from Severus to you and back again. “Sorry, Sir, I hope it’s not too late in the evening,” he begins, a slight tremble in his voice. “It’s just,” He pauses, “I could come back tomorrow if it’s… You know, if you’re busy.” He glances at you again and you pretend not to notice, idly running your fingers over a set of brass scales sitting beside you on his desk.

  “Spit. It. Out. Boy.” Severus is clearly very unimpressed at the interruption.

  “Well I, I was just, I had some questions, about the homework you set? The um, the, Asiatic Anti-Venoms…” Severus’ face is unmistakably livid and the boy quietly squeaks, “It’s okay, I’ll come back another time, actually, maybe I can find the answer in the library…”

  Severus slams the door abruptly in his face and locks it again, leaning back against it. He closes his eyes and draws a deep breath.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.” You suggest, regrettably. He opens his eyes and frowns at you. “I just mean now. Here.”

  He pulls up from the door, walks across the room and perches beside you on the desk. His hand rests against your stomach and he leans closer, kissing the corner of your mouth softly and urging you backwards so his fingers can dip below your already loosened waistband. “Please,” he murmurs, “do not deny me this…” his hand snakes further down, settling beneath your underwear. “I can assure you,” your breath hitches as he slips between your thighs. “You won’t be disappointed.”

  You can’t help the whimper which escapes you as Severus slowly drives a finger inside of you. Your head falls back and you close your eyes as his thumb massages your most sensitive spot; all whilst his finger curls inside you. Slowly, he guides in a second digit, soaking his fingers in your arousal. He thrusts into you repeatedly, causing you to quiver at his touch. But just when you feel you can’t hold on any longer, he removes himself, leaving you aching for more of him.

  You open your eyes, grasp his shirt and pull him toward you. He leans over you, recklessly sweeping the contents of his desk to the floor before laying you back against its surface. You kiss him deeply; arching your hips as he grinds against you.

  Dissolving the kiss, he stands up and again, shrugs off his jacket before pulling his shirt off over his head. He wastes no time in unburdening you of your own clothing, leaving you naked and sprawled over his desk.

  For a short time all Severus can manage is to admire you. He hesitates; chest rising and falling as he reaches out and his fingers ghost over your vulnerable form; your neck; your chest; your breasts; your stomach. You shiver at the feel of his hand on your skin. He reaches down, and with his other hand unfastens his trousers and gently grasps his firm and eager length.

  “Severus,” you beg, “I need you.” You’ve never wanted anything more. And that’s the only encouragement he requires to lean over you once more, pinning your wrists above your head against the hard wood of his desk as he positions himself at your entrance. And in one swift motion he sinks into you, exhaling a low groan as he does so and eliciting a soft cry from your own lips. The sensation is incredible as he fills you entirely. He repeats the motion, withdrawing himself and driving back inside you over and over; each stroke causing you to gasp for breath as he develops a steady rhythm.

  His fingers dig into your skin and you arch your back; rolling your hips in time with his; his every thrust pushes you closer toward the release you both so urgently desire.

  You become lost in Severus’ eyes; now occupied with lustful passion in place of the hostile disdain they usually held. His eyes stay locked on yours and his slick black hair falls wildly over his face. You gasp with every stroke; your fists clench beneath his strong grip; you can’t deny yourself any longer as your body twists beneath him.

  “That’s it... Come undone, for me.” He utters through heavy breaths. You cry out at his demand; an explosion of electricity coursing through every inch as you shatter under Severus’ authority. And he doesn’t stop; guiding you through the immeasurable ecstasy with unwavering momentum.

  Severus fucks you until he reaches his own release; harder and faster; he eventually he loses his rhythm and his body jerks; grip tightening on your wrists and hips; a guttural groan escaping his lips as he comes hard inside of you. A few more merciless thrusts that leave you exhausted and shaking, and Severus is done.

  Your breath hitches a final time when he removes himself from you and let’s go of your wrists. You attempt to steady your breathing as Severus straightens up and re-buttons his trousers. You rise (all be it shakily) to your feet and reach out, taking his hand and pulling him back to you. You kiss; bodies pressed together again and hearts pounding.

  “You were right,” you murmur. “I’m not disappointed.” And Severus smiles against your lips as you kiss him again.

Chapter Text

Wednesday, 21^st December 1983

  If Severus had occupied your every waking thought before the time spent in his office that evening, he certainly wasn’t vacating your mind anytime soon thereafter. For days you replayed every second over in your mind. His touch; his taste; the way he made you feel… All you wanted was to spend time with him, but doing it without raising the suspicions of the other teachers and students certainly wasn’t easy.

  You exchanged constant glances every time you ate in the Great Hall. You brushed especially close to one another when you passed in the corridors. You made excuses to visit the dungeons – at one point claiming, when Filch had spotted you, you were off to inquire about a Pepperup Potion to cure you of a nasty cold you had. Filch hurried away quite hastily at that.

  Deciding you need to at least attempt to clear you mind, you make the decision to head down to the Great Lake for a breath of fresh air. The ground is blanketed in freshly laden snow, gleaming and sparkling a brilliant white. You sink into it as you tread your way across the grounds to the lake; your boots crunch softly with every step.

  The Lake itself is partially frozen. The edges are frosted and glistening in the mid-morning sun. Staring out and wondering half-heartedly how the giant squid might be doing at this time of year, you hear footsteps approaching from behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s Severus, and he stands directly behind you, wrapping you underneath his flowing black cloak and pulling his arms around your body. You melt into his warmth, and when you lay your head back against his shoulder his cheek brushes yours.

  “I’ve been missing you.” You admit. He responds with a soft sigh, and places a kiss near your ear.

  You turn around to face him, still wrapped beneath his cloak you lean into him and shut your eyes, closing your arms around his waist. Severus holds you, resting his head on yours. You can feel his heart beating as you lay against his chest, and for a long time, neither of you speak; content just to be in one another’s arms.

  You’ve never felt this way before. You’ve never felt so connected to another person as you do with Severus.

  “Christmas Eve.” He proposes. “Everyone will be so busy, looking forward to Christmas, there’ll be no… Interruptions.” You lift your head to meet his suggestive gaze. “Your quarters, shall we say… Five o’clock?”

  You didn’t need a whole lot of convincing.

---

  Christmas Eve arrives quickly. When five o’clock rolls around and there’s a knock on the door, a flutter of nervous excitement flourishes inside you. “Come in.” You call out, and the door swings open to reveal Severus standing on the other side of it; devoid of his usual robes, dressed down, instead, in only his white shirt and black trousers.

  He looks so handsome this way.

  Severus steps inside and locks the door behind him. He smirks when his eyes travel over you and he takes you all in. You’re wearing a rather revealing, black silk dress; one you’d picked out to wear especially for him. The way he raises an eyebrow as he gazes at you tells you it’s most definitely not wasted on him.

  He walks toward you and places his hand subtly over your chest; scarcely touching you at all. He circles, trailing his fingers across your neck and shoulder until he comes to stand behind you, lowering his mouth to your ear.

  “You are, breath-taking.” He whispers; fingers now dancing lightly across your back and slipping beneath the straps of your dress. He slides the dress from your shoulders and it falls to the floor, leaving you in only your black silk underwear and bra. His touch travels down your bare arms and sends a shiver throughout your body, before he pauses at your hips. He pulls you firmly against him and plants delicate kisses down your neck.

  “Severus…” You find no words escape you besides his name.

  He only hums in response before moving around to face you again. Lifting your fingers to his shirt, you gradually unfasten each button before running your hands over the smooth, pale skin of his chest. He pulls you toward him again, cupping you chin and tilting your face.

  You press your lips to his and he kisses you softly. You’re taking it slowly this time. As though the both of you want to savour every moment; every kiss, every touch. After all, you have the whole night ahead of you.

  Severus covers your hands with his and guides you carefully backwards until your legs touch the edge of your bed. You pull him down with you as he lays you back against it; all the while continuing to kiss you; his tongue exploring yours and his teeth grazing your lips.

  He moves lower with intent to taste every inch of you. His mouth and tongue are hot as he trails kisses over your chest. He reaches beneath your back and you arch toward him allowing him to release the clasp of your bra. He drags it away from you, discarding it elsewhere across the bed. Then his mouth is on your breasts; teasing and biting and sucking at your sensitive skin. He moves to your stomach, and each brush of his lips sends shivers through you.

  When he reaches as far as your silk underwear, Severus licks a stripe right back to you neck before pulling himself up, eliciting from you a desperate whimper. Your eyes engage briefly when he drops to his knees between your thighs and grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the black silk and teasingly relieves you of your last item of clothing.

  You roll your head back against the bed in anticipation, and his hands glide along the inside of your thighs, spreading your legs wider for him. Then you feel his lips on your skin. Kissing; sucking. He works his way along the inside right up to where you want him most, but then moves to kiss the opposite thigh.

  Finally Severus submits to giving you what you’re aching for, and the first roll of his tongue at your aching core has you breathless and clutching the sheets with your fists. He appreciates you wholly; sucking, licking, and tracing shapes that makes you quiver beneath him. His hands are firmly gripping your thighs and the way he delves inside you with his tongue has you silently uttering his name. A heat builds steadily within you as Severus mercilessly applies more pressure, and when he buries a finger inside you, the heat becomes a raging fire that spreads viciously throughout your body.

  He’s doing everything right, and more.

  Eventually, your every muscle tenses as Severus sends you over the edge. His mouth and fingers carry you relentlessly through your orgasm, and by the time he’s done you’re gasping for breath.

  He stands, slipping off his shirt, his shoes; you close your eyes for a moment, and when you open them again Severus is entirely exposed before you. You manage to find the energy to pull yourself up to the edge of the bed, and place your hand against Severus’ stomach.

  You catch sight of the faded mark on his left forearm; a dull reminder of his dark past. He seems to notice you studying it, and apprehensively moves his arm away. “It’s okay,” you assure him, running your finger over the paled-ink serpent. He tenses as you touch him and move your hand further downward from his stomach. Leaning forward, you trail your tongue along the underside of his firm, throbbing length.

  Severus runs his fingers through your hair and softly utters, “You don’t have to do that.”

  You look up to meet his eyes and simply respond, “I want to,” causing his breath to hitch and his eyes to flutter closed as you taste him again, before taking as much of him into your mouth as you can manage.

  He grips the corner of the four-poster, steadying himself as you work your mouth over him. Swirling your tongue around his head he moans gently, and as you suck harder he tightens his fist in your hair.

  But without warning he pulls you away from him. “Not yet,” he gasps, taking your hands again in his, and pinning you back against the bed, “I need to be inside you.” And he drops down over you; your lips come together and you can taste yourselves on one another’s tongues.

  He rests on one arm; his free hand pulls your leg up around his hips and then in one swift motion he seats himself deep inside you with a satiated groan. You grip his shoulders; fingers digging against his skin as he rolls his hips slowly against yours – Severus intends to take his time and each stroke is sensual; purposeful. Your chest rises and falls in succession with his and you lose yourself in his intensely dark eyes.

  Eventually he surrenders his grip and slips his hand beneath your back, and smoothly pulls you over with him so he ends up beneath you. You gasp as your position allows him to sink deeper inside you, and you lean back to grip his thighs; his hands either side of your hips as you fall up and down on top of him.

 Gradually you develop a harder and faster rhythm; Severus thrusts at your pace, and you know he’s doing everything he can to hold on a little longer. He reaches between your thighs to rub circles with his thumb, encouraging you closer to a second wave of all-encompassing pleasure.

  Your breathing grows heavier as he brings you closer yet, and then it hits you quite unexpectedly. You shudder around him, clenching every muscle once more as he brings you to another sensational release. And he follows almost immediately; his head falling back with a satisfied groan and your name on his lips as he comes.

  You collapse exhaustedly onto Severus’ chest, smiling into him and he wraps his arms around you and affectionately kisses your forehead.

  “Stay with me tonight.” You whisper, shifting against him and resting your chin on his chest. Severus looks down at you and smiles reassuringly.

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.” He affirms, before laying back and closing his eyes...

---

  When you awake the following morning, you find Severus sleeping soundly beside you with his arm draped over your waist. Glancing at the clock which stands on the fireplace you notice it’s already 9:45am.

  “Mm, good morning,” Severus stretches beside you and kisses your shoulder. “And, a very Merry Christmas.” He smirks.

  You roll over to face him, returning the kiss before replying, “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  His lip curls into a smile as he pulls you closer to him and asks, “Get everything you wanted this year?” But before you can answer, he’s kissing you again and trailing his hand down between your legs.

  It takes all of your self-control to resist him. “Shower.” You mumble against his lips. “I’m going to shower.” And as much as you’d rather spend the entire day in bed with Severus, it’s already nearly 10am and it’s Christmas Day.

  It’s not until you’re showering that you realise just how hungry you are, too. Both you and Severus had managed to miss last night’s dinner and this morning’s breakfast. Goodness knows what conclusions the rest of the school might be drawing about your whereabouts.

  When you exit the small bathroom adjacent to your quarters, you notice Severus is nowhere to be seen. You frown, a little disheartened that he appears to left without so much as a word. But as you set about dressing yourself (wearing your favourite festive jumper), and drying your hair – a stream of hot air emitting from the end of your wand – Severus re-emerges through the door to your room carrying a plate of sandwiches.

  You grin. “I thought you’d left.”

  “Breakfast.” He announces. “Not sure about you but I’ve certainly, worked up an appetite… Since we missed breakfast,” he shrugs, “bacon sandwiches straight from the kitchens.”

  He places the plate on a small coffee table between the two armchairs near the fireplace, and sits down. You join him in the opposite chair and take a sandwich. Things always taste so much better when you’re starving-hungry and these are no exception. You’re mindful not to eat too many, though, since you’re quite aware Christmas lunch in the Great Hall will be ready at one o’clock.

  Severus eventually manages to tear himself away from you and leaves to head back to his own quarters, in order to change his clothes and take a shower himself. You kiss him goodbye in the doorway and watch him disappear down the hallway and round the corner before closing the door, and sinking back into the comfortable armchair in front of the fireplace.

  You spend the following hour relaxing by the warmth of the flames and opening a few of the gifts your parents had sent you – they were, by now, fully accustomed to using owl post, even if they did still consider it an unusual mailing method. There’s the usual chocolates and socks, a black and green jumper knitted by your grandmother, and a beautiful little globe with a castle standing in the midst of a swirling snowstorm. Perhaps they imagined it’s what Hogwarts might look like at this time of year. You stand it on the chest of drawers next to the photograph of your parents, before making your way to the window and glancing out of it. The scene is very much similar to the one in the snow globe, actually; the ground is blanketed with white and the snow falls heavily from the grey sky overhead.

  Not long after midday you decide to head downstairs to the Great Hall and, as fate would have it, you manage to run into Severus in the entrance hall. You greet each other with a warm smile and make your way into the Hall, past the Hogwarts ghosts who are merrily singing very enthusiastic renditions of classic Christmas carols, all led by Sir Nicholas.

  “Ahh, good afternoon Professors! And Merry Christmas to you both.” Dumbledore greets from the table as you enter. McGonagall eyes the pair of you curiously.

  “I was beginning to wonder something had happened to the both of you…” She declares. “After neither of you joined us for dinner last night… Or breakfast this morning...”

  “Oh, I was err,” you pause, looking for excuses. “I wasn’t feeling too good, actually.”

  “Oh my dear,” Pomona interjects. “Did you visit Madame Pomfrey?” She glances over at the resident matron. “Did she?”

  “Oh, no, no I’m fine I just, needed a good sleep?” You submit, not sounding at all convincing.

  Pomona smiles. “Well, good, so long as you’re feeling better now.”

  McGonagall glances at Snape. “Just, carried away, working.” He offers.

  “Now, now,” begins Dumbledore, “So long as everyone’s fine we don’t have to be so concerned, Minerva.” He smiles warmly as you awkwardly take your seat.

  The Christmas feast is as spectacular as ever it was. Giant roasted turkeys, golden crisp potatoes, pigs in blankets and mountains of delicious, steaming vegetables. The students chatter excitedly, and are incredibly amused by the stacks of exploding Christmas crackers. The teachers are having a wonderful time, too. Even Severus’ demeanour is that of a person who’s actually enjoying themselves; although you can’t imagine what’s put him in such a good mood…

  Having filled yourself with more Christmas pudding and mince pies than was probably necessary, you retire to the staff room with the other professors to relax with drinks and to play games. For a while you watch Dumbledore and McGonagall engrossed in a rather violent game of Wizards Chess, and you notice Hagrid is asleep in the corner of the room by four o’clock, snoring away thunderously. You begin to feel incredibly sleepy yourself; the food and drink and warmth of the glowing fireplace has made your eyes quite heavy. Perhaps a short, brisk walk in the snow will wake you up, you decide.

  You glance at Severus as you stand to leave, subtly gesturing that you’d be more than happy for him to join you. He waits until you’re gone, and you stand outside of the castles oak front doors – watching some of the students engaged in a brutal snowball fight out in the courtyard – hoping Severus will join you. After a minute or two passes, he emerges.

  “Still snowing, I see.” He comments.

  “Beautiful though, isn’t it?” You respond, strolling across the courtyard. The snowball fight seems to have stopped momentarily, no doubt for fear of facing the wrath of Professor Snape when one of them accidentally hits him with a rogue snowball.

  The two of you continue walking through the glittering snowfall, silently enjoying each other’s company until you end up on the edge of the forbidden forest. You lean back against the frosted trunk of a particularly large tree and Severus takes your hands in his, gently weaving his fingers between yours and pressing closer to you in the ever-growing darkness; the sun is almost set by now.

  “You are, so, incredibly beautiful.” He utters smoothly, resting his forehead against yours.

  “Severus,” you whisper, gazing up into his eyes.

  “Mm?”

  “Kiss me.”

Chapter Text

Sunday 1^st January 1984

  You’re standing on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It’s dark; cold. You’re not alone. You listen carefully to the sounds around you. There’s a howling in the distance; a long, fierce cry. You look down to see a snake weaving its way through the trees ahead of you, and you follow it deep into the forest. A flash of grey emerges through the trees; collides with you. A splash of blood, a searing pain rips through your skull and then -

  You awake with a violent start in the early hours of Sunday morning with the dream etched in your mind. Your chest heaves as you clutch at your head where the pain had been, but you find yourself intact and unharmed. Sighing, you peer blearily around the room, forgetting momentarily where you are.

  “Are you okay?” Severus mutters your name from beside you, an obvious concern in his voice as he questions you.  Taking in the dark silhouettes that encompass Severus’ chambers you sink back into his bed and turn to face him. He shifts onto his side, reaching across to brush your hair from your face. “You’re cold.” He mutters, pulling the dark satin bedsheet up and around you and shifting closer.

  “I… I had a, a nightmare.” You murmur.

  Severus frowns softly, hesitating before he responds. “It’s just a dream.” He reassures you.

  “No. It felt like more than that. I saw something.”

  His searching eyes are fixed firmly on yours. “Saw what?”

  “It was… There’s something in the forest.”

  He breaths slowly and his eyes narrow. “There are, many things, in the Dark Forest…” He frowns.

  “Yes, but…” It’s not that you don’t think he believes you, but trying to convey a vision you can’t make sense of yourself isn’t all that easy. “You’re right, it’s probably nothing.” You huff, turning away to face in the other direction.

  You feel the bed dip beneath his weight as he silently moves closer and kisses your bare shoulder. “I didn’t mean it’s nothing.” He wraps an arm around you and you surrender into the warmth of his chest.

  “I know… It’s just… Sometimes I see things that… That don’t make sense to me until they happen.”

  His hand closes around yours. “Did you…” His words are scarcely a whisper. “Did you see us?”

  You cast your mind back to your second night after returning to Hogwarts. Yes, you had. Severus had consumed your dreams absolutely. You vividly remember the list of ingredients that had appeared before you on the chalk board conjured by your subconscious; all of which are well-known ingredients of love potions… Yes. You knew from the moment you’d set eyes on Severus this term that he would come to occupy your every thought. What you hadn’t known, however, was how that infatuation would be reciprocated by him.

  “I saw you.” You settle on a reply, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing the back of it gently. “Every night, I saw you.”

  Severus holds you close against him. “Try and get some more sleep. It’s still early.” He mutters, settling back against the pillows.

  You close your eyes but when you do the dream comes crashing back around you. The darkness; the chill in the air and that terrible howling…

---

  As much as you’d have enjoyed spending the remainder of the day in bed enveloped in the comfort of Severus’ embrace, the reality is that it’s the last day of the Christmas holidays and the students will be returning to Hogwarts today. And you have the job of accompanying Hagrid to Hogsmeade Station to welcome them back on this incredibly dismal New Years Day.

  “’Ello there, ‘an a ‘appy New Year!” Hagrid smiles as he greets you in the Entrance Courtyard. “How’re yeh doin’?” You pull your scarf up tightly around neck and shove your hands into the pockets of your cloak.

  “Bloody cold.” You mumble with a shiver, hardly bothering to even look in Hagrid’s direction. You can’t quite fathom why he’d be so cheery considering it’s the last day of the holidays and it’s so, bloody, cold.  Oh how you long for the warmth of –

  “Yeah it is a bit nippy eh?” Hagrid interrupts your thoughts of Severus. “Yeh’ll warm up, by the time we get down ter the station.” He insists as you begin trudging through day-old snow – it’s started to turn to ice in places.

 “Maybe…” You shrug.

  “I feel like I’ve ‘ardly seen yeh all Christmas… Where’ve yeh been hiding? Bundled up in that stuffy ol’ Divination Tower no doubt?”

  Actually, you’ve hardly been in the Divination Tower at all, as it happens.

  “Oh, yes.” You lie.

  “Always were one for the books you was, if I remember rightly…” He does remember rightly. You often wonder, in fact, if you should’ve found yourself in Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin, the way you’d spend your every hour studying away like the good little witch you were…

  Your classmates had often teased you about how bright you were. Top of the class. Top of the school when it came to Potions. Of course, you don’t have Severus to thank for that. It was Professor Slughorn who’d taught you for your first 6 years and guided you in the art of potions; he was always most impressed at your efforts and inducted you into the Slug Club in only your second year.

  If only Slughorn and your classmates could see you now.

  Screwing Professor Severus Snape in secret.

  No, you’re definitely a Slytherin through and through.

  “You alright? Yeh look like yer mind’s elsewhere.” Hagrid interrupts again.

  You draw a slow breath. “Sorry. I’m fine, just a bit tired I think.”

  When you arrive at the Station, the Hogwarts Express is just pulling in and within minutes, the roar of the steam engine is almost entirely drowned out by the clattering of excited students disembarking with their belongings and excitedly chattering away to one another. You remember it well; even though the holidays would be over and it meant you had to focus on your studies again, there was nothing better than being back at Hogwarts.

  Unfortunately, the enthusiasm of the students didn’t last quite as long as you’d hoped and through the week, lesson by lesson, their concentration fades. By Friday everyone is more than ready for the week to be over.

  The week had also offered little opportunity to spend time with Severus, as the both of you were particularly involved in your work. The new school year saw things return to the way they’d been before; sneaking a glance across rooms and brushing just a little closer than necessary when you passed one another. On the one occasion you’d been to his office (late Thursday afternoon) you’d scarcely managed a kiss before you were interrupted by the sound of two duelling second years battling (admittedly incompetently) in the dungeon corridors. Severus was quick to offer up detention to the both of them along with 10 points from each (you’re certain had they been from any House beside his own, it might’ve been minus twenty points apiece).

  For the most part, the weekend fared as poorly; reluctantly Severus confined himself mostly to the Potions stores to set about organising and replenishing his supplies – the task of which he’d already put off over the Christmas break in favour of spending his time with you. You had just as much to do; further lesson planning and marking and organising of books. O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations wouldn’t be far away either and there was really a lot to do.

  But on Sunday afternoon you’re pleasantly surprised.

  The fire burning fervidly in its hearth warms your chambers delightfully as you recline in the brown-leather armchair before it. It’s a particularly cold day, again, and you’ve resigned to sitting quietly by yourself in the warmth of your room, sipping from a mug of hot cocoa and enjoying the peace before another busy week of teaching arrives. There’s not long before you’ll head to dinner (you’re hoping for a steaming casserole or perhaps a hearty pie), but your eyes are growing heavy as you bathe in the glow of the flames.

  Knock, knock.

  The sudden intrusion causes you to jump and almost spill the remnants of your cocoa. Setting down the mug on a nearby table, you approach the door, silently hoping it might be Severus standing on the other side of it.

  Tugging on the iron door handle you pull open the heavy oak and find it is, in fact, Severus. Your heart has a habit of fluttering giddily at the sight of him still. “Hi.” You manage, stepping back and allowing him into the room.

  He doesn’t speak and instead, as you shut the door firmly, wraps his arms right around your body and simply holds you to him. Sometimes, words aren’t needed. You rest your head against his shoulder and draw a long, deep breath; indulging in his usual aroma; that familiar leather laced with a concoction of potions; though not unpleasant in the least. Just unmistakably Severus.

  He eventually releases you.

  “So, what brings you here?” You question, resting your hands on his chest.

  “I need a reason, to see you now?” He tries and fails to hide a smirk. “I miss you.” He admits, kissing your forehead. You close your eyes and rest against him. “You look tired.” He sounds concerned.

  “Thanks.” You roll your eyes sarcastically. He sighs. “No, I am, I’ve not been sleeping well.”

  “Dreams, still?” He inquires.

  You nod. “Always the same. Howling in the forest… The pain, and blood. Severus I think…” Your words trail to a silence and you shake your head. You know there are rumours of werewolves in the forest but what reason do you have to be out in the forest in the middle of the night? “It doesn’t matter, really, I’m fine.” You insist, moving away and collapsing backwards onto your bed. “I just need a decent night’s sleep is all.”

  Severus drops down beside you, propped up on one elbow. His thumb traces absentmindedly over your jaw. “Perhaps a sleeping draught?” He suggests half-seriously.

  “Perhaps I’d sleep better with you here…” You offer, certain Severus could tire you out to the point of exhaustion… Yes, you’d sleep well, then.

  He leans down. You close your eyes. His lips touch yours and your fingers curl through his waves of jet-black hair, pulling him toward you as he kisses you. He leans further downward and places a knee between your thighs, gently encouraging your legs apart so he can nestle between them and press his hips into yours. You arch beneath him; wanting more. Tongues collide, kisses deepen, hands wander and Severus firms beneath your touch.

  But he stops himself. “I think, perhaps we shouldn’t miss dinner, again. I’ve already heard whispers around the dungeons from my students…” His breath falters and he jerks lightly as your hand caresses him; his erection tends to disagree with his suggestion of stopping.

  You gaze into his eyes. “Whispers?”

  “Hogwarts isn’t well known for keeping secrets… Rumours spread, although, nothing a weeks’ worth of detention won’t cause them to regret.” He muses.

  You smirk. Severus is too hard on his students, that can’t be argued with. But there’s something about the authority he commands that gives you cause to admire him even more.

  But he’s right. So dinner it is.

  You do manage, at some point during your evening in the Great Hall, to quietly ask Severus if he plans to accompany you back to your room after dinner. But he quite sensibly suggests that “perhaps it’d be more advantageous for you to get an early night.” And so you retire the idea and submit to heading straight back to your room alone and collapsing into bed early, for all the good it might do you.

---

  You don’t cross paths with Severus at Breakfast on Monday morning, and it’s not until later in the day when he happens into the staffroom whilst you’re making notes and teaching points from Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst is Coming, that you see him (admittedly you’re skimming the pages as much for yourself as for the afternoon’s lesson).

  “Ahh, Severus,” Dumbledore looks up from his conversation with McGonagall as the Potions Master enters the room. “I believe a Happy Birthday is in order.”

  Birthday?

  Severus attempts an uncomfortable smile. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

  “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.” The words tumble almost indignantly from your lips as you look up from your book. Severus stares at you. “I mean… Well, happy birthday, Professor.” You smile politely for the purposes of your fellow Professors. Severus nods and awkwardly takes a seat across the table from you as there’s an assortment of mumbled happy birthday’s from various people in the room. You can’t help but notice Dumbledore watching you both curiously.

  “I’m not much for celebrating birthdays.” He mutters.

  Your instant reaction is annoyance that he hadn’t even bothered to tell you. But as you sit silently opposite him, you realise he probably doesn’t enjoy his birthday because he probably doesn’t have anyone to share it with. Not until now. If you could kiss him right in this moment, you would do. Instead you settle for an affectionate smile.

  “Sleep better last night?” He asks, moving away from the topic of his birthday.

  “I did. Better than I have been but… I still had that, dream.” You lament.

  Severus leans across the table. “Do you think it worth, mentioning it to the Headmaster? If it’s concerning you that much?”

  The thought has crossed your mind. You glance in Dumbledore’s direction to see his nose is now buried in a book. “Maybe.”

  The rest of the day drags on unreasonably slowly. Half of your fourth year class seem to have fallen asleep throughout your lesson on Death Omens, with one boy knocking over his teacup and sending it crashing to the floor as his head lolls over the table. The shattering china causes him to wake violently. “Sorry, sorry professor I didn’t mean to.”

  You roll your eyes. “No harm done, Davies.” You sigh, and with a wave of your wand and a Reparo charm the teacup is shining as good as new on the table again.

  The school day finally draws to a close, and once the last students have left the Divination classroom, you take a moment to check your appearance in a nearby mirror and then head out of the trap door and down the winding staircase, headed for the dungeons.

  But you don’t get as far as the dungeons when you find Severus busying himself in his private potions storeroom on the first floor. He’s half-way up a ladder when you enter the small space and he doesn’t notice you in the vicinity until you close the door behind you. The scowl on his face instantly diminishes as he whips around and finds it’s you standing in the cupboard with him.

  “Oh.” He looks surprised to see you. “Just…” He’s focused on the well-stocked shelves around him. “A moment…” He murmurs, running his fingers lightly along the various glass vials and jars and returning the ones in his hands to their rightful places. He climbs back down the ladder and turns to you, simply appreciating your presence for a moment with an avid gaze.

  “I wish you’d told me.” You sulk.

  “What?”

  “Your birthday.” You stare obviously at him.

  “Oh, so you could make a fuss?” He chuckles.

  “I wouldn’t make a fuss.” You disagree. But it would’ve been nice to know.

  Severus takes your arm and pulls you right up against him. “Well,” he breathes, running his fingers through your hair and raising an eyebrow. “You know now…”

  And then two of you become one, once more. Eagerly tasting one another, all lips and teeth and tongues and sustained on one another’s air. Your hands fall immediately to the buttons of his trousers and he falters backwards with a soft groan to rest against the heavy wooden ladder behind him.

  “Severus?” You’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

  Oh. Oh no.

  You immediately pull away from him and clear your throat as he pulls his flowing dark robes around himself and attempts to stand straight.

  You find yourself face to face with Professor Dumbledore. “I, I just… Uh, Snape was just – ”

  “Yes, I see that…” Dumbledore remarks. “Severus, Madame Pomfrey was looking for you, asked if I might happen upon you on my travels I’d send you her way…”

  Severus seems momentarily lost for words. After what might’ve been an eternity he responds, “Yes of course, Headmaster.”

  “And I think I’d like to see you in my office.” He requests, looking directly at you.

  You nod apprehensively as Dumbledore moves out of the way to allow Severus to swoop off down the corridor like some great bat toward the hospital wing. He doesn’t as much as glance at either of you.

  Dumbledore’s Office had always been most impressive to you. Although you hadn’t ventured into it often, on the few occasions you had (during your time as a student within the castle), you’d found yourself captivated by it.

  The walls are lined with cabinets which are filled with glittering gold and silver curios; all manner of items of which you wouldn’t know the use of. The higher parts of the walls are filled with paintings of the other great headmasters of Hogwarts, many of whom appear to be looking down at you rather judgementally.

  Dumbledore strolls across the room and lingers by his desk.

  “Professor, I can explain… I – ” You begin, but find you don’t have the words to explain anything.

  “Explain what, precisely?” He gazes over his half-moon spectacles.

  “Severus, and I…” You swallow hard.

  “No need to explain.” He chuckles.

  “But, I thought,”

  “You thought it was some big secret, your relationship with Severus? My dear, I don’t need to be a gifted clairvoyant to see that you and Severus are quite, involved. And it’s none of my business, either.”

  “So… You knew?”

  “There is, very little, happens in my school that I am not aware of.” He shrugs, taking a yellow coloured sweet from a bowl sitting atop his desk. “Sherbet Lemon?” He offers.

  “Uh, no, thank you.”

  “Do you recall what I said to you, the night of Hallowe’en?” He questions, popping the hard-boiled sweet into his mouth.

  You nod. You remember very well Dumbledore telling you to do the right thing. “The right thing?” You echo, pacing around the edge of the circular office and eyeing the curious objects tucked safely within their cabinets.

  “Severus hasn’t had a great deal of joy in his life, I’m sorry to say. No doubt you know that by now. The right thing, was simply, to show him understanding. Compassion. I knew right away he’d taken a liking to you… Of course, I didn’t know you’d both feel… Quite so strongly for each other.”

  You can’t look him in the eye.

  “Love is love.” He smiles, and you wonder just when anyone had mentioned anything about love? “All I ask, is that you don’t allow your relationship to overshadow your ability to teach.”

  “Oh, no, it won’t. It definitely won’t.” You promise.

  “Then that’s all there is to it.”

  There’s a quiet pause. “So, if you didn’t want to talk to me about… Severus… Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “Forgive me, but it seems as though there’s something on your mind. And I couldn’t help but overhear you haven’t been sleeping well. Of course,” He unwraps another Sherbet Lemon. “If you’d rather not talk about it, I understand.”

  “No, you’re right. I’ve been having these visions. And, usually my visions, they don’t bother me too much but… This one, it means something.”

  “What do you think it means?” He inquires.

  “There’s something in the forest. I know, there’s a lot of something’s in the forest. But this is new. And I, I think it’s a werewolf.” You stammer. “But I don’t know why I’m there. I’m in the forest, and it’s dark and it’s cold. And…”

  “And?”

  “And I’m hurt.”

  “And are your dreams – your, visions – are they always so literal?”

  “Well, no.”

  “So perhaps your dream is merely a warning…? The pain a metaphor?” Dumbledore suggests. You don’t know what it means, and Dumbledore doesn’t seem to be of very much help either. “I suggest you not think on it too much, hm? You’ll drive yourself mad. Prophecies are tricky things… No doubt you know. Nothing is ever set in stone. It’s easy to misinterpret, am I correct?”

  You nod. “Yes. You’re right.”

  “So that’s that. Try not to dwell on it. Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a Sherbet Lemon?”

---

  You find your mind is somewhat at ease after your conversations with Dumbledore. Especially when it comes to your relationship with Severus, although you’d still rather the whole school didn’t know. At least you’d no longer have to tiptoe around the other professors as though nothing were going on at all.

  You don’t even bother knocking when you enter the Potions classroom. Once again, Severus looks surprised to see you. He’s sitting at his desk in his white shirt; sleeves rolled up and measuring various dried ingredients on the familiar brass weighing scales. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again this evening.”

  “Dumbledore knows.” You shrug.

  “Well, I assumed as much, now.” Severus sighs.

  “No. I mean he already knew.”

  He narrows his eyes. “That man never ceases to impress me…”

  “He doesn’t care.” You approach Severus and he leans back in his chair, watching you. “He already knew, and he doesn’t care, and he said –” You pause, deciding not to mention that “love is love”.

  Severus grasps your wrist and pulls you onto his lap so your legs are either side of his. “He said?”

  “He said,” You fingers dance lightly down his chest and stomach. “Not to let it interfere with our ability to teach.” You place a hand over the crotch of his trousers and he breathes deeply. Without warning, he reaches forward toward the desk and grasps his wand, and with a gentle flick the door bolts shut.

  “No more interruptions.” He demands, dropping the wand again and leaning back in the chair.

  You kiss him briefly on his lips, then across his jaw and neck, undoing the buttons that remain fastened on his shirt. You slide off of his lap, sinking between his legs while your fingers trail his exposed torso all the way to the waistline of his trousers. His grip tangles through your hair, brushing it from your face as you gradually loosen the buttons of the strained, dark fabric, before encompassing Severus’ eager, stiff length with your hand.

  “Happy Birthday, Severus.” You smirk and watch his eyes fall shut as you take him into your mouth. His breathing deepens and his chest rises and falls with each stroke of your tongue along the soft, smooth underside of his shaft. And when you tease your tongue over the slit of his head, circling and sucking – provoking him – he groans and bucks his hips gently forward.

  At first the pace had been set by you, but as Severus gradually loses his self-control he begins to guide you, gripping the back of your head and smoothly fucking your mouth.

  You’re enjoying every second as much as he is; knowing he is yours and you are his. Knowing that only you can make Severus feel this way.

  Your head bobs in time with his every gentle thrust; one hand against his thigh and the other at the base of his pulsing rigidity; massaging; coaxing his release. You take him as deep into your throat as you’re able to, almost to the point it chokes you; but he’s careful not to sink too deep as he rocks into you.

  And Severus moans lowly when he reaches a point of satiation. His body jerks and your name rolls from his tongue and his grip on your hair tightens. His warm release trickles down the back of your throat as you swallow around him, accepting everything he has to offer. Eventually his movements still, until only the pounding of his chest is visible.

  When you finally release him, Severus leans down and encourages you to your knees, gripping your jaw firmly and guiding your face toward his to lock his mouth against yours. His kiss is deep and his tongue claims dominance as he tastes himself on you. When your lips finally part, you find yourself breathless.

  “Well, happy birthday to me, indeed.” Severus smirks.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, 10^th January 1984

  Severus is asleep on his stomach with his arm draped across your chest and holding you close to him when you awake the next morning. Your legs are tangled around his, but when you roll onto your side, he slowly begins to stir.

  “Mm… What time is it?” He mumbles with his eyes still shut.

  “Well, that depends,” you reply, glancing over his shoulder at the small carriage clock which sits neatly upon his bedside cabinet.

  “On what?”

  “On whether you want to get up for breakfast.” Your eyes settle back on Severus and you brush the stands of soft black hair from his face.

  “And if I’m… Not hungry?”

  “Oh, then we’ve got at least another half-hour in bed.” You shrug.

  The corner of his lip curls just slightly, and his hand moves to rest under your chin, encouraging you toward him so he can kiss you. As your lips meet he shifts and wraps his arms around your back, pulling you on top of him. You lay against his firm chest; your hands delicately placed either side of his face and finger tips nestled amongst his waves of dark hair. You look down at him and trace your thumb over his lower lip; he catches it in the softest of kisses.

  “Have I told you,” Severus’ black eyes regard your own with nothing other than adoration and longing. “How, remarkably beautiful, you are?” You hang on his every syllable; his voice, smooth as silk.

  You smile coyly. “You might’ve… Mentioned it. Once or twice.”

  “You know,” the way his fingers trail slowly up and down your bare back makes you shiver. “I could tell you every minute, of every day, for the rest of our lives… And it wouldn’t, be, enough.” He lingers on each word, and as his fingers reach your shoulders he pulls you back down for another kiss.

  “I thought… You weren’t… Hungry?” You giggle between kisses.

  “Insatiable.” Her murmurs, pressing his lips to your ear. “When it comes to you.” And he delicately kisses your earlobe; your jaw; your neck. His teeth graze your tender skin and then he bites down; enough to elicit a soft sigh from you, but gently enough as to not leave an obvious mark.

  You roll your hips, grinding teasingly against his keen and unrestrained length and generating a delicious friction between the two of you. His hands travel down your back and over your hips, before cupping your bare cheeks and gripping you firmly.

  With little effort, Severus switches places you with, pinning you beneath his weight. And then he wastes no time in guiding himself forcefully into you in one, determined and tremor-inducing thrust. You moan beneath him at the fullness he affords you; fingers digging against his hips with every intense repetition.

  “Sev-” You can barely form his name as he rocks ruthlessly into you. Your eyes are shut tight and your head falls back against the pillow. You whimper at every unrelenting stroke, but then he pauses, bringing his hand to your face. You open your eyes and he regards you with a certain apprehension.

  “Is this, okay?” He asks you through heavy breaths.

  “Don’t stop.” You plead. “Severus please don’t stop.”

  His lip twitches obligingly and he needs no further encouragement or permissions from you, pulling your legs around him and reasserting his dominance as he drives mercilessly back into you.

  Severus continues to fuck you without restraint, claiming you completely; you’re his and his alone and he wants you to know it.

  Your body is tense; aching; some blurred combination of delirious satisfaction and unyielding torment. But you don’t ever want it to end. There’s a burning heat expanding rapidly between your thighs as Severus coaxes you closer and closer to the climax you crave.

  And when you finally shatter beneath him with his name falling desperately from your lips, the whole room – the whole world – disappears and you’re consumed absolutely by Severus Snape. Your muscles grow tense and you clench around him. His breath draws ragged; his movements less controlled with each panting groan until he can’t hold back any longer.

  Severus comes hard. A guttural expulsion of unmitigated satisfaction leaves his throat when he surrenders deep inside you.

  You’re shaking. Gasping. It takes a good few minutes for the both of you to steady your breathing. You lay silently gazing at one another, save for the panting and accelerated thudding of one another’s hot and glistening chests.

  As you lay there, captivated by Severus’ adoring gaze, a thought crosses your mind. The thought that perhaps, you’re actually quite in love with him. When did this happen? Should you tell him? Does he feel the same? Your lip quivers just slightly as you recognise your affections, but before you can consider it further, Severus pulls himself up and then collapses beside you.

  Your eyes follow his to glance at the clock. “I should go,” you resolve, shakily rising from the bed and retrieving your clothes from atop the dresser near the door. It takes some amount of concise effort, as your legs don’t seem to want to work in the proper way.

  “Will I see you again this evening?” He questions.

  In truth you aren’t sure. You really do have a lot of work to be getting on with. And if every morning after the night before is going to present you with as much distraction as this one has, it’s probably not a good idea to be staying with Severus on weekdays… It’s also difficult to say no to him, however. You settle on a “maybe.”

  You always hate this part; the part where one of you has to leave. Now fully clothed, you make your way back to Severus to lean down to leave him with one last gentle kiss before departing. He drags a hand through your hair, prolonging the goodbye.

  Leaving the dungeons you catch the inquisitive stares of a couple of Slytherin second years. You care much less today than you usually would do, given yesterday evenings conversation with Dumbledore, but it still bothers you slightly nonetheless.

  You manage to shower and put on clean clothes in your own quarters, before stopping briefly by The Great Hall for a quick piece of toast and marmalade. You notice Severus hasn’t managed to make it to breakfast. And then at last arriving in the Divination Tower, you’re ready to begin the teaching day. Albeit relatively exhausted already.

  Later you find yourself met with equally as inquisitive glances from the other professors as you were the Slytherin students, when you’re seated unusually closely to Severus in the staffroom that afternoon. Minerva McGonagall in particular raises an eyebrow when she observes the way Severus discreetly weaves his fingers between yours.

  “Professors?” She inquires, but is interrupted by Dumbledore.

  “Ah, young love, Minerva.” He beams. You suddenly feel quite awkward. And so, you can tell, does Severus. And there’s that word again; love.

  McGonagall simply blinks sternly and clears her throat before returning to the stack of papers she’d been marking.

  “I’ve, got things I need to do.” Severus announces uncertainly. Not known for displaying any emotions beside disdain and contempt for near everyone he comes into contact with, it’s clear Severus doesn’t know how to deal with his feelings for you when around others. Alone he’s like a different man; caring, attentive, vulnerable… His emotions and passion left unguarded. And there’s something about knowing he saves it – all of it – for you and you alone which makes you love him a little bit more. Love. There it is again…

  Despite his discomfort, Severus makes a point of kissing your forehead as he stands, before offering an unperturbed frown at the other professors and then sweeping gracefully out of the staffroom.

---

  As the week endures you find your cravings for Severus increase. But your dedication to your job and word to Dumbledore that you won’t allow the relationship to compromise your ability to teach, ensures you don’t spend your weeknights with him. No matter how much you want to. So you’re relieved when Friday finally arrives again; you have every intention of spending the evening with him.

  You’re on your way to the Potions classroom in the hopes of finding Severus there, when you run into Hagrid in the first floor corridor.

  “Oh, ‘ello!” Hagrid greets you warmly. “I was ‘oping ter run in ter you.”

  “Hi, Hagrid.” You smile back politely.  “Everything alright?”

  “Yeah, not bad I s’pose, yeh know, can’t complain. Actually I was wonderin’ if yeh wanted to pop down fer a cup ‘o tea t’morrow? ‘Ave a little catch up?” He says hopefully.

  “Sure.” You nod. “That’d be nice.” Hagrid had always been so kind to you, it’s hard to turn him down and disappoint him.

  “Excellent, I’ll see yeh t’morrow then, round about ten thirty alright?” You nod again. “Right well I best be off, got some brooms what need defrosting before the mornin’. Slytherin are practicin’ extra hard this term, I heard.”

  “See you, Hagrid.” You call after him as he trudges away.

  Arriving at the Potions classroom, you find Severus once again at his desk. He glances up from the stack of parchments he’d been reading over and smirks when you take a seat on the edge of it. “You know, if anyone besides you were to attempt sitting themselves on, my, desk…” He sighs.

  “Yes?” You provoke.

  “It’d be, a week’s detention, simply for the insolence.” He raises an eyebrow.

  You laugh and slide back off of the desk, instead settling against his lap and wrapping your arms loosely around his neck. “Well what if I sit here, instead?” You bite your lower lip enticingly and Severus is drawn in almost immediately; lips clash and tongues roll over one another as he kisses you deeply and slowly.

  “Mm,” he hums, interrupting the kiss. “You’re keen… I thought I, might have time to finish my work before-”

  “If you want me to go,” you tease.

  “Never.” He reignites the kiss momentarily. “But let’s not… Miss dinner again.” He murmurs between tantalising kisses. “We have all night.” You draw a sharp breath when he catches your lower lip between his teeth monetarily. “And all of tomorrow.” He moves to your neck, trailing hot, hungry kisses over it.

  “Wait,” you suddenly remember. “Not so much, all of tomorrow.” Severus pauses. “I’m going to see Hagrid in the morning.”

  “Hagrid?”

  “Yes.”

  He frowns. “Then I’m making the most, of tonight…”

---

  The bitter January wind is so fierce the following morning that you can scarcely feel your face when you reach Hagrid’s hut. When he lets you through the door you head straight toward the fireplace and drop down in front of it to warm your hands and face.

  Hagrid chuckles. “Not much for the cold, are yeh?”

  “No. It’s bloody miserable out there. The sooner Spring arrives, the better.” You insist.

  “Let me get the kettle on then, warm yeh up with a nice brew.”

  You simply shiver in response, moving as close to the flames as you can without catching light to your cloak.

  For a while Hagrid doesn’t say very much, which is unusual for him. But once he’s made the tea and you’ve warmed up enough to sit at the table rather than on the floor in front of the fireplace – and he’s offered you a slice of homemade fruitcake – you realise why he’s being so quiet.

  “So err, you and Professor Snape, ey?” He’s been trying to figure out how to ask you about it.

  You almost choke on your tea.

  “Oh, sorry, word travels fast at Hogwarts…”

  “Clearly…” You mumble, attempting to take another sip of tea.

  “Heard it from Professor Sprout as a matter o’ fact… I was just surprised is all. I know he was askin’ after yeh a lot but...” Hagrid takes a large gulp of tea. “I just mean ter say he isn’t the friendliest of blokes, is he?”

  “If you got to know him,” You begin, a little frustrated with Hagrid’s opinion.

  “I don’t mean anythin’ by it, really.” He interrupts. “Just so long as yer happy.” He smiles honestly.

  You huff, and take a bite of fruitcake as you consider that you really are, in fact, quite happy. “I am.” You finally reply. Hagrid leans back in his chair. “I really am, Hagrid. Severus is… He’s not like any man I’ve ever known. And he, he really seems to care about me.”

  “Well that’s good enough fer me.” Hagrid nods. “How’s the cake?” He asks expectantly, changing the subject.

  Dry. And a little burnt. “It’s great, thanks.” You fabricate.

  “Take some more if yer want.” He offers.

  “Oh no. No, thanks, I’m okay.”

  “Suit yerself.” He shrugs.

  “Thought anymore about that dog?”

  “I have.” Hagrid beams at the mention of a dog. “I been in contact with a breeder. Boarhounds, that is. He’s gonna let me know when he’s got a litter o’ puppies next. I told him, I did, I said it’s gotta be a Boarhound and it’s gotta be the biggest one o’ the lot. On account o’ me size, y’know?”

  Hagrid spends another hour or talking about dog breeds, and how he’d considered keeping a Crup, “On account of it being a proper wizard’s dog”, but reconsidered when it was pointed out by Dumbledore that Argus Filch probably wouldn’t have taken very kindly to it (Crup’s, as Hagrid went on to explain, weren’t too fond of Muggles or Squibs). And in the end, Hagrid really had his heart set on the largest dog he could get hold of.

  Three cups of tea and two slices of cake later (Hagrid had convinced you to have another slice, “Just a small one,” he’d insisted), you eventually head back up to the castle. It’s almost two o’clock, and though the sun is now gleaming down and melting the glittering frost that blankets the grounds, it’s still bitter outside. You gaze out over the Quidditch pitch while you climb back up the hill, not envying the practicing Slytherin team one bit as they dart about on their broomsticks in the biting breeze.

  You head straight back to Severus’ room. He’s quietly reading a copy of The Daily Prophet in front of his own lowly-lit fireplace when you enter. “Wondered where you’d gotten to.” He remarks without looking up. You sink into the black armchair beside his. He glances at you. “Hagrid’s company so much more, captivating, than mine?” He quips, raising an eyebrow and lowering the newspaper. You shrug.

  “I thought you said The Daily Prophet was, not particularly credible?”

  “I did. Doesn’t mean I don’t still read it. You look freezing.” He notes, folding the paper and dropping it to the floor beside the chair. He stands, and with a soft flick of his wand Severus transforms the fire from glowing embers to roaring, white-hot flames, engulfing the room in a burst of heat. “Come here.” He holds out his hand and pulls you toward him, before tugging your cloak and scarf away from you and dropping them neatly onto the chair.

  Severus leads you closer toward the fireplace with him, and delicately spins you around whilst at the same time guiding you to the floor. With his legs either side of you, he pulls you back against his chest and wraps his arms right around you, holding you close to him in front of the flames.

  “Warmer?” His chin rests on your shoulder as he speaks.

  “Warmer.” You smile, sinking against him and caught between the heat of his body and the heat of the fire. You turn your head slightly; catch his eye. “Severus, there’s… Something I wanted to tell you.” You pause, not entirely sure how to say the words. “I, it’s just that I-”

  “I know.” He whispers, catching your lips with his before you can find the words to tell him you love him. You don’t object to his kiss. Not at all, but you hadn’t said the words. I know isn’t the response you’re looking for, either. It’s all so difficult. And complicated. Why does it have to be love?

---

  You hardly leave Severus’ side for the remainder of the weekend. It’s quite extraordinary, how infatuated with each other the pair of you have become. When you’re with him you lose yourself entirely like he’s all there is in this world. The castle could fall down around you and you probably wouldn’t notice. And it’s because of this you agree, with reluctance on both parts, on a strict policy of staying away from each other’s quarters with the exception of weekends.

  Monday comes and goes in the blink of an eye. Tuesday is slower, and on Wednesday you find yourself inadvertently headed toward the dungeons without really thinking about where you’re going. It’s only when you happen upon The Bloody Baron ascending the dungeon staircase do you realise where you are, having originally been headed toward The Great Hall. You sigh, and correct your path.

  When you sit at the table at the top of the Hall for dinner, Severus brushes the back of his hand against yours as he asks how your day has been. His slightest touch causes you to shift in your seat, and he’s well aware of it. “Fine. My day was fine, thank you.” His knee touches yours. For the love of Merlin, Severus, stop it… “Yours?”

  He shrugs. “Cauldron exploded, amongst the Fifth years this afternoon… Hufflepuff girl who was incapable of measuring the ingredients correctly…” You’re certain he delights in the failings of the majority of his students.

  “Was everyone alright?”

  He shakes his head lightly. “Nothing a trip to the Hospital Wing didn’t fix.”

  Once dinner is over and the majority of the Hall has emptied, you bid goodnight to Severus (who responds with an obviously suggestive “pleasant dreams”) and head back to your room. You change into your nightclothes and are sitting on the edge of your bed when you happen to notice the moon through your window. It’s full, and in the clear night sky sends a shimmering silver glow over the castle grounds and surrounding forest. Your mind flashes back to the dreams you’d been having previously in the month.

  Taking a deep breath, you put the dream out of your mind, climb into bed and close your eyes.

  You awake two hours later to the sound of furious banging on your door. Your eyes snap open and you sit bolt upright in bed. Squinting in the darkness you climb out of bed and fling open the door, to be met by a very flustered looking Argus Filch.

  “Filch? What on Earth-”

  He’s clearly very out of breath. “Quick… Professor… Dumbledore has asked… All the Professors…”

  “Has something happened?”

  “Dungeons.” He pants. “Slytherin.” And with that he jogs off up the corridor with Mrs. Norris skipping along behind him. You quickly pull some robes over your night clothes and gather up your wand from your bedside table before hurrying out of your room and down toward the dungeons as fast as you can.

  Approaching the Slytherin common room, you run into McGonagall and Flitwick. “Professors, what happened? Filch, he just told me to come down to the dungeons.”

  “Oh my dear, there’s been some sort of attack.” McGonagall declares.

  “Werewolf…” You mutter.

  “What? How did you know?” She asks, bewildered. “Never mind that, it’s a student.”

  “Is anyone hurt?”

  “Not that we’re aware of. Very frightened though, as you’d imagine. Oh, go ahead, Dumbledore’s wanting to see you.” She gestures down the stone corridor which you know leads to the Slytherin common room.

  When you enter it, you find Dumbledore and Severus both inside, along with a group of terrified looking students all in their pyjamas and quivering in a huddle. The room itself has been practically torn apart. Chairs strewn across the floor with their fabrics shredded, papers littering the floor, a desk overturned and portraits entirely devastated.

  “Ah,” Dumbledore greets you by name. “I was hoping, you might be able to tell us something.”

  “A werewolf.” You repeat.

  “Yes, we had gathered that much,” Dumbledore nods. “These poor boys had the shock of their lives when their classmate transformed before their very eyes. Incredibly brave, the young third years… Tried a few defensive spells but alas, didn’t serve their purpose.”

  Severus steps up to you. “Do you know, where he might have gone? You were having these visions, dreams, were you not?” You want to tell them both I told you so, but settle on it not being particularly helpful at this moment in time.

  “Yes. Yes I know where he is.” You swallow hard, glancing between Severus and Dumbledore before heading out of the common room and back down the corridor. As you pass a worried looking McGonagall, Dumbledore asks her to put the room back to its usual state and see that the boys are calmed down (“perhaps a mug of hot cocoa wouldn’t go amiss”).

  You hurry out of the great oak front doors of the castle and down through the grounds. If it was cold during the daytime, it’s twice as cold in the depths of the clear night. Anxiously, you lead the way to the Dark Forest with Severus close behind you and Dumbledore behind him.

  “Hagrid. I need to wake Hagrid. He knows the Forest better than any one of us.” Dumbledore insists, steering away from Severus and you and heading toward the cabin on the outskirts of the Forest.

  You stand on the edge of the trees with Severus beside you. Your wands pour a silver light across the leaf-strewn floor, illuminating your path. Silently, you listen for signs of the beast.

  “Stay close to me.” Severus demands as a not-too-distant howl calls through the trees toward you. You make your way deeper into the forest, trying to move as quietly as possible. And then you hear it. You can’t see it, but you can hear it; grunting and snarling and padding along between the trees nearby. It’s close; stalking you; watching you.

  And then a flash of grey tears through the bushes and lunges toward you.

  “Protego!” You repel its advances but it rebounds within seconds and knocks you to the ground with its weight; all hair and teeth and vicious claws. Suddenly that searing pain you’d felt in your dream rips through your head and you see blood.

  “Everte Statum.” Severus’ commanding voice utters from somewhere nearby. His words are followed by a thud and a whimper as the offensive spell sends the creature hurtling away from you.

  Severus drops urgently to his knees. “No, no, no…” He breathes, pulling his arms around you.

  You touch his cheek with your hand, hardly noticing how cold it is. “Sev… It hurts…”

  “I’ve got you. Shh I’ve got you.” He promises. “Albus! Albus!” He calls out, desperately.

  “I…” You stare up at him as the agonizing pain extends throughout your head.

  His eyes glaze over and when he pulls his hand through your hair, you observe the blood on his fingertips. “I’ve got you,” he repeats. “You can’t go. Please don’t go.” Severus begs you.

  “I… I love you.” You whisper as your eyes drift shut. The world begins to fade around you; and this time, Severus with it. His voice dissolves along with the cold night air and the intense, throbbing ache until there’s nothing left at all besides empty darkness.

Chapter Text

Unknown date, 1984?

  “Sev…? Severus…?” You try to call out for him, but all that escapes is a barely audible mumble. You roll your head to one side and attempt to open your eyes.

  “You’re awake!” A familiar female voice exclaims from somewhere nearby.

  Your eyes are heavy as you peer hazily around the room; and when the light hits them it’s somewhat painful and causes you to squint. It takes you a few moments to realise you’re lying in a bed in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

  Madame Pomfrey rushes to your bedside. “How are you feeling?” You feel exhausted. And confused. “Drink some of this, it’ll help.” She passes you a small, blueish-green bottle and assists you in sitting up. The concoction tastes relatively awful, and you recognise the label as that of Wideye Potion. “That’s it, that’s it. Now don’t go anywhere.” She instructs firmly. “Just stay there and I’ll fetch Albus.”

  “Severus.” You repeat, staring dazedly at her.

  “Nonsense. You don’t need Severus Snape. Professor Dumbledore will want to know you’re okay. Stay right where you are.” And before you can protest further she hurries out of sight. And even if you did want to get up, you’re not sure you can. You’ve no idea how long you’ve been lying here. You don’t remember exactly what happened.

  After a few minutes, Madame Pomfrey returns with Dumbledore in tow. “Ahh,” he greets you by name. “Awake at last, I see.”

  “What happened?”

  Dumbledore takes a short breath and sits in a chair beside the bed. As he sits, you notice a number of Get Well Soon cards propped up on the nightstand beside you, along with your wand. “Do you remember the forest?” He begins.

  You do. You remember the forest, just like in your dreams. You remember the werewolf. And you remember… “Oh. Oh, no… It, bit… I – I’m a…” Dumbledore squeezes your arm and shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

  “No, my dear you are not a werewolf. Quite fortunately you were neither bitten nor scratched.” He assures you.

  “But… My head?” You reach up and run your fingers across your head where the pain had been.

  “You were attacked, indeed. But you fell. And by all accounts, hit your head, hard.” He nods. “If it wasn’t for Severus…”

  “Where is he?” You ask, tone a little more demanding than you’d intended.

  “Ah, Madame Pomfrey, would you be so good as to fetch Professor Snape? I think he’ll want to know our friend here is awake.”  Dumbledore makes his request and you glance at Madame Pomfrey who simply rolls her eyes at you, before disappearing back out of the Hospital Wing. “Vulnera Sanentur I believe was the incantation…” He tells you. “Yes, Severus is skilled in the art of healing. Saved your life, I dare say.” He smiles.

  “Is… The boy, is he okay?”

  “Oh yes, he’s fine. A little shaken up of course… Apparently, the poor lad was bitten over the Christmas break. His great uncle is a werewolf as it turns out… All rather unfortunate. But I’ve asked Severus to brew enough Wolfsbane Potion to see him through the rest of the year. He’ll be fine. Not the first time we’ve dealt with Werewolves at Hogwarts…”

  “How long, have I been…?” You glance around the large open space with its high ceilings and hospital beds and medicine cabinets.

  Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. “Two weeks. We were beginning to worry. Of course, Severus has spent every spare minute by your bedside, you know…”

  Before you can reply, you recognise the familiar sound of Severus’ footsteps striding hurriedly down the corridor. And then he appears; black robes swirling around him the way they always do as he glides toward you. Dropping down onto the bedside he takes your hand and simply stares at you; his expression that of relief.

  “I think our patient is well tended,” Dumbledore suggests, rising from his chair and gesturing for Madame Pomfrey to make herself scarce. “Although I do suggest,” Severus looks over his shoulder to observe the Headmaster. “A few more days rest. I believe, you may be more comfortable somewhere, other, than this hospital, mind.” He looks from you to Severus. “Severus?”

  Severus glances at you then back to Dumbledore and nods. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “Headmaster I really do think-” Madame Pomfrey interjects.

  “She is awake. She is well. She needs only rest. I trust Severus to tend to the young Professor’s needs.” Dumbledore insists. And you’re thankful, because the thought of spending a few more days in the company of the Matron’s stern disposition isn’t all that appealing. She huffs and simply marches away to fuss at a nearby medicine cabinet. “Oh and, don’t worry about your classes, Professor, they’re being taken care of. I’ve no doubt you’ll be well enough by next week to resume teaching.” Dumbledore assures you, before taking his leave.

Severus returns his attentive gaze to you. His lips part but he hesitates to speak, at first. “I thought I’d lost you.” His expression softens; his dark eyes are filled with concern as he places a comforting hand against your cheek.

  “You saved me, Severus.”

  He nods and smiles down at you. “I did. And, I want you to know something.” He runs his fingers through your hair. “I love you, too.” You tighten your grip on his hand when he utters the words. “I love you, and I sat here, every, day. Telling you. Hoping you’d wake up. And I wish I’d told you sooner. If you’d…” His voice falters and he can’t finish his sentence. He can’t contemplate the possibility you could have died. “It would, have, destroyed me.” He admits despondently.

  After a minute or two of silence, you take a deep breath and tell him, “I need to get out of here. I’ve never liked the Hospital Wing. Makes me uncomfortable.” You’re beginning to wake up a little more now. That’ll be the Wideye Potion. “And, I’m hungry.” You declare.

  Severus smirks and laughs softly. “Under strict instruction of bedrest… Would you rather your quarters-”

  “No.” You reply quickly. “I’d rather, yours.”

  He nods and smiles. “As you wish.”

  You slowly sit up and drag away the bedsheets, and Severus courteously removes his cloak and wraps it around your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells of him, and feels hugely too big for you. You wrap the dark fabric right around yourself as Severus helps you to your feet.

  Judging by the height of the sun pouring through the corridor windows, and the silence that sweeps the castle, you ascertain it’s around mid-afternoon and the students are, for the most part, in their lessons. “Didn’t interrupt your class, did I?”

  Severus shrugs, his arm around your waist as he leads you toward the dungeons. “I sent them to the library to study. You’re of far more importance to me than the bumbling first year attempts to correctly brew a Wiggenweld Potion.” You chuckle at his disapproving tone. “Last class of the day, anyway.” He informs you, bringing you through his office and into the familiar comfort of his chambers.

  You collapse on the edge of the bed, still wrapped in Severus’ cloak. The little clock by the bedside tells you it’s half past two. “I’d like to take a shower, if that’s alright.”

  “Of course.” He replies. “I can retrieve you some clothes, from your room. If you’d like?”

  You nod.

  “Anything else?”

  “Toothbrush wouldn’t go amiss.” You shrug. Severus chuckles, and eventually manages to tear himself away from the room to find you some clothes, and with any luck something to eat from the kitchens.

  Folding his cloak neatly and placing it on a chair, you slip off your nightclothes and into the private bathroom adjacent to Severus’ bedchambers. You lean over the white porcelain sink, still feeling disoriented, and do your best to inspect your head. No visible scars, thankfully. Frowning at the state of your appearance you turn away and grasp the shower taps. The pipework clatters and then forces down a stream of hot water from the brass shower head above; the warm water exceptionally soothing as it cascades over your skin.

  Drying off and returning to his chambers, you consider whether Severus would mind you temporarily borrowing one of his shirts. You don’t consider it for very long, however, as you’re soon pulling a fresh white shirt from his wardrobe and slipping it over your damp, naked form… Of course he won’t mind.

  As you settle into his bed feeling much more refreshed, Severus returns with a pile of clean laundry from your room, and the promise of food on its way from the kitchens. It’s funny, you ponder as he reappears, you’d never have imagined being looked after this way by Professor Severus Snape. Not in your wildest dreams.

  When he looks at you, the corner of his lip curls. “My shirt looks good on you.” He muses, unbuttoning his navy jacket before taking it off and laying it over the back of the chair. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Tired… I thought the Wideye might’ve helped…” You shrug.

  “It will have helped, with the concussion.” He tells you. “You need to sleep.” There’s a knock at the door. “But first you should eat. Chicken soup?” He offers, opening the door to a house elf carrying a large bowlful of soup on a silver tray.

  “Anything sounds good.” You admit, as Severus takes the tray and the house elf vanishes with a snap of its fingers.

  An hour later, and with your appetite satisfied, you begin to doze off mid-way through Severus filling you in on everything you’d missed since falling unconscious. He tells you about the poor traumatized werewolf-boy. He tells you about how he’d carried you all the way back up to the castle in his arms, refusing Hagrid’s insistence to do it for him, and about how Hagrid had visited you in the Hospital Wing almost as frequently as he had (you make a mental note to visit Hagrid as soon as you’re able). And he tells you about the Wolfsbane Dumbledore had him brewing. He couldn’t tell you anything else that’d been happening in the school those past few weeks, since he’d spent every moment he wasn’t teaching, sat at your bedside awaiting your recovery.

  When he notices you’re drifting gradually out of consciousness, Severus lays down on the bed beside you, silently running his fingers through your hair until you fall asleep.

---

Friday, 3^rd February 1984

  You’d spent two whole days sleeping on and off in Severus’ bed. He checked on you frequently, ensured you wanted for nothing and that food was brought up from the kitchens; you hadn’t felt like joining everyone else in The Great Hall just yet.

  On Friday afternoon you decide to venture out across the grounds for a walk and a trip down to Hagrid’s to let him know you’re okay. You pass by the Quidditch pitch, remembering that Slytherin’s next match is set to take place in two weeks’ time (they’ll be playing Ravenclaw, who had won their first match of the season against Hufflepuff at the end of November last year; a match you hadn’t chosen to attend). You have every intention of being there for this match to cheer on the Slytherin team alongside Severus, however.

  Hagrid has never looked so happy to see you than when he opens the door and finds you standing on the other side of it. He embraces you in a great warm hug and ushers you inside and out of the cold.

  “I’m not staying long, Hagrid. I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.” You smile.

  “I was so worried about yeh. We all was. Dumbledore, an’ Snape. Snape especially, mind. Hardly left yer side he didn’.” You smile again. Perhaps now he understands what it is you see in Severus.

  That evening at dinner in The Great Hall, the other Professors are all just as relieved as Hagrid had been to see you’re now fully recovered. Professor Sprout greets you with an elated smile, and McGonagall gives you an encouraging nod. Madame Pomfrey, on the other hand, simply remarks how you “Still would have been better kept under my watch in the Hospital Wing.”

  Severus raises an eyebrow. “I disagree.” He insists. But before the Matron can argue her opinion, Dumbledore interrupts by questioning Severus about the Wolfsbane. “Yes, Headmaster. I have enough in my stores to see the school year out.”

   When everyone has finished eating (today it’s a sausage casserole followed by treacle tart – although you don’t have a particularly large appetite currently), you remain, with Severus, two of the last people to leave the Hall.

  “I understand, if you want to return to your own quarters.” Severus mentions, regrettably, as you walk the length of the Hall.

  You haven’t really thought about it much. But it doesn’t sound like Severus particularly wants you to go. “Well it’s… I mean it’s up to you.”

  “If it were, as you suggest, up to me, I’d have you with me every night.” He admits, trying and failing to hide a smirk.

  “I think…” You consider, in an evocative tone and walking slightly ahead of him, “I’d like to be with you again, tonight.” You smile coyly and disappear around the corner toward the dungeon staircase.

  Severus catches up to you at the entrance to his office. Before you’ve even reached his room, his jacket is already off and his shirt is half unbuttoned; your own clothes unburdening you similarly and as the door bolts itself shut, concealing the two of you away from the world once more, Severus takes you delicately into his arms.

  He holds you close; his forehead rests against yours and your fingertips graze his chest as he whispers your name and a soft “…I love you.”

  His words are echoed identically in your own before he kisses you seductively and lays you back against the smooth, dark satin sheets of his bed. Once again, Severus takes control and you obligingly surrender to his advances as he removes your clothes, and then his own, before leaning back down to kiss you.

  Although it’s been almost three weeks since he had the satisfaction of indulging himself in the pleasures only you can afford him, he is tentative; considerate. It’s as though Severus knows exactly what you need and when you need it without so much as a word from you, and he’s content to give you that.

  His every touch; each brush of his lips or caress of his hands; every stroke of his fingers though passionate and eager, are tender and affectionate.

  His hand finds its way between your thighs and parting them further, he begins to draw slow, firm circles against you with his finger. You respond with a hitch in your breath, spreading your legs wider for him as he gradually ignites a familiar heat within you. You close your eyes and roll your hips, gently placing your hand over his and guiding him lower; you desperately want him inside of you.

  Severus obliges, driving his finger into you and eliciting an appreciative gasp as you clutch the sheets with your other hand. He repeats the motion; his leisurely pace almost torturous. You gasp again when he curls a second digit inside; thrusting gently and readying you for more of him.

  And just as you consider begging him for more, he removes his hand and shifts above you. Grasping your thigh with one hand, he steadies his weight with the other, then sinks himself deep into your throbbing heat with a low and gratified groan.

  Your eyes are lost in his as he falls up and down over you. Your hands rest on his hips, rolling your own in time with his every thrust. Each short, shallow breath you take imitates his. Severus’ every movement pushes you closer and closer to the release he so determinedly wants to evoke from you.

  And evoke it, he does. With a soft cry you come undone beneath him, and he doesn’t stop; guiding you steadily through your all-consuming climax. But Severus is soon defeated, too, and with his eyes still fixed on yours, he reaches his peak and comes to an abrupt and shuddering halt; a shallow expulsion of breath escaping him.

  His eyes search your face for confirmation you’re okay. You are. He needn’t be so concerned but it’s commendable that he is. You smile reassuringly and bring your hands around his neck to pull him down into another deep kiss.

---

  Your entire weekend was spent in much the same manor. You hardly left Severus’ bed; losing yourselves in one another over and over until you were so exhausted you could hardly stand. And realising you were now fully recovered, Severus ceased holding back and began fucking you, at times, with vigour and a desperate conviction.

  It was never the same twice.

  On Sunday night he accompanied you back, at last, to your own quarters. It was just as you had left it all those weeks before. You didn’t want to part with him, but in all honesty, you probably couldn’t have carried on the way you had been for much longer. Severus had exhausted you. Albeit in the best way possible, but exhausted you none the less.

  You resigned to have an early night on Sunday, and unsurprisingly, sleep right through until the morning. When you awake, you’re feeling rather more refreshed and ready to recommence teaching than you’d expected.

  “Good morning class!” You beam at the unenthusiastic Monday-morning faces of your sixth year Slytherin students. One or two are kind enough to mention how glad they are to have you back, and that you’re okay. Some begin asking questions about the rumoured werewolf attack (Dumbledore didn’t want everyone knowing the details, but as we all know, Hogwarts is not well known for keeping secrets). Whilst the rest simply continue looking uninterested as you ramble on about the art of Myomancy.

  It’s not until the end of the lesson, while you’re trying to encourage a small congregation of white mice back into their cages, one of the girls asks a question you can’t quite so easily overlook.

  “Professor, is it true about you and… Professor Snape?”

  “Is, is what true?” You stutter.

  Another girl pipes up, “That you’re dating him. I heard someone mention it the other day.”

  “I’m not sure it’s any of your business.” You declare, locking the cage doors on the little white mice.

  “That’s a yes.” One of the boys sniggers.

  You roll your eyes.

  “Isn’t he kind of…” the first girl begins again.

  “Kind of what?” You sigh irritably.

  “Well, he hates everyone.”

  “He doesn’t hate everyone.” You contest. “Just because he refuses to suffer the idiocies of students who cannot follow directions in his classroom, or the insolence of those who choose to break the school rules, does not mean he hates them.” There’s a collective sigh and mumble of disagreement.

  “So are you going to tell us?”

  In the end you resolve it’s no use trying to prevent the entire school from finding out about Severus and you. And what does it matter now, really?

  You shrug. “Fine. Yes, if that’s what you want to hear. Now I don’t want one more word on the subject. Or it’ll be Professor Snape who deals with you.” You threaten.

  By Monday evening, you realise just how fast word travels through the corridors of Hogwarts School. Sitting at dinner in your usual seat besides Severus, you try to pretend you haven’t noticed the way the entire Slytherin table appears to be glancing and gesturing toward you both with pointed whispers.

  Severus notices, though. “What’s wrong with the Slytherin’s, this evening?” Severus mutters.

  “What?” You feign ignorance.

  “All evening, all they’ve done, is stare at me. And you.” He frowns suspiciously.

  “Um, well…”

  “Well what?” He regards you apprehensively, awaiting your explanation.

  “Well, my class this morning… Look, Severus, it’s gotten quite obvious,” you gesture between the two of you. “You know, this. Us.”

  Severus is still; only his eyes flicker agitatedly between you and the table of gossiping Slytherin students.

  “So…”

  “So…?” He mirrors expectantly with an arched eyebrow.

  “So when they asked if we were, you know, involved... I told them yes.”

  Severus turns his eyes immediately to the students and offers them a fierce glare, causing many of them to instantaneously cease whispering at one another and turn their attentions back to their food.

---

  It didn’t take long for word to spread around the rest of the school, but by the following week the students had given up interest in your relationship with Severus. And the Potions Master himself didn’t seem to mind you’d admitted being involved with him in the way you are. Of course, he still endured no nonsense or interrogation from his students and if he caught so much as a whisper about his private life, they found themselves facing an instantaneous deduction of house points.

  “Tomorrow evening.” Severus begins, as the two of you sit in the staffroom the following Monday afternoon.

  You stare at him, perplexed. “What about it?”

  “I wondered…” He looks a little awkward. You put down your book. “It’s fine if you don’t want to. I mean it’s not really, my idea of fun, however…”

  “…Yes?”

  “Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day,” He mutters quietly. “And I wondered if, you wanted to go somewhere, just for a drink. I wouldn’t – I just thought you might-” You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Severus look so unsure of anything in all the time you’ve known him. Is he really making this effort just for you? You don’t imagine Valentine’s Day as being anything close to Severus’ idea of fun. And yet this is where he’s arrived.

  You smirk and shake your head. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t even like Valentine’s Day.” You inform him. It’s a half-truth, and really you’re just trying to spare him the thought he should have to partake for your sake.

  “Oh.” He looks almost disappointed. Perhaps it’s not just for your sake?

  “But, we should definitely have a drink. Not the Hogs Head this time, though, please.”

  Severus chuckles. “Agreed. Not the Hogs Head.”

  You arrange to meet Severus in the Entrance Courtyard at four thirty the following day. The time seems to drag by slowly, and the students are less interested in your lessons than usual. They’re far more interested in the gossip surrounding who had received Valentines cards from whom, and enchanting paper hearts to flutter about the classroom like little pink butterflies.

  Four thirty finally arrives and Severus is already waiting for you when you get to the Courtyard. The daylight is fast beginning to fade, and the ground is, once again, covered in a thin blanket of glittering, white snow. The sooner Spring arrives, the better.

  Severus greets you with a smile and you take his arm as he leads you both through the grounds and toward the path to Hogsmeade. By the time you arrive in the village, it’s already dark. And it’s busy for a Tuesday, on account of it being Valentine’s Day. The street is bustling, and the pubs and coffee shops are brimming with wizarding couples gazing romantically at one another. Madam Puddifoot’s is especially busy this evening, you notice, glancing off the main street and down the small side road it sits on. Fortunately, the overly romanticized Tea Shop was suited to neither yours nor Severus’ tastes, and he steers you instead toward The Three Broomsticks.

  The Inn is warm and inviting, with a lively, and yet somewhat hushed, atmosphere. Filled with loved-up couples sipping warming drinks and giggling affectionately with one another. You manage to find a small table at one end of the bar and before Severus can get as far as ordering any drinks, Madam Rosmerta spots you and hurries herself over.

  “Evening Professors,” she smiles, realising it’s just the two of you. “Can I get you both something to drink?”

  “Mulled Mead, I think, please.” You answer.

  Severus shrugs indecisively. “Make that two.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She smiles again, before disappearing off behind the bar.

  Settling yourself at the table, you suddenly notice the unending flutter of red rose petals falling delicately before you, and landing softly on the centre of the table before dissolving to nothing. They’re really quite pretty, and not so intrusive as the array exploding confetti Puddifoot’s often exhibited for Valentine’s Day (or so you’d been told). At least the rose petals wouldn’t be landing in your drink.

  It’s nice to spend time away from the castle. And nicer still that you don’t feel the need to hide your feelings for Severus in public anymore. And he certainly has no hesitation in being as affectionate with you now as he would be in private; he holds your hands; strokes your hair; kisses you more than might be necessary and – after polishing off a couple more drinks – whispers into your ear all the things he’d like to do to you at the next possible opportunity (you expel an involuntary whimper when he suggests revisiting his desk and bending you over it).

  The evening draws on, and the Inn gradually empties. Severus suggests heading back to the castle, and proposes the idea of breaking your rule about only staying the night with one another at weekends. As tempting as it is, you resolve to not let him sway you.

  “I’m afraid, you and your desk will just have to wait.”

  “Then, let’s just walk. For a while.” He muses.

  It’s cold. Bitterly, as often it is. But you don’t want the evening to end, either, so you resolve to walk with Severus as long as he wants.

  Thanking Madam Rosmerta for the drinks and bidding her a goodnight, you exit The Three Broomsticks and arrive in the chilly night air. The moon is high and almost full, bathing the streets in a pale silver glow. Having recently acquainted yourself with the cycle of the moon, you happen to know the next full moon will be Friday night. You wrap your scarf a little tighter around you and pull your robes close to your body. Severus notices, and places his arm right around you, hugging you close to him as you walk slowly back to the castle.

  You walk and walk, finding yourselves circling the outside of Hogwarts grounds until you come to the Boathouse. Severus pauses and stands before you.

  “Severus, it’s late. We should probably head back.” As much as you don’t want to, it must be gone midnight and you both have classes to teach in the morning.

  Severus doesn’t reply, but instead reaches inside his robes and produces a small box. “I wasn’t sure when to…” His words trail. “I just, got you, a little something. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He hands you the box.

  It takes you by surprise. You hadn’t expected anything. And what’s more, you have nothing to give him. “Severus, I don’t have anything-”

  “Yes, you do. More than you know.” He assures you. “Now, open it.”

  You glance momentarily at him before unravelling the fine silver ribbon tied at the top of the little block box. Pulling the box open, you find a beautiful silver locket inside, adorned with an engraving of two entwined snakes. “Severus it’s-” Beautiful, is the word you’re looking for.

  “Open it.” He instructs.

  You do. And inside the locket is a small, enchanted picture of Severus and you, smiling adoringly at one another. It truly is, beautiful.

  “Oh, Severus.” You clutch the locket and bury your face into his chest. “Thank you I love it.” You assure him. He sighs, seemingly relieved you appreciate the gift.

  “Here, let me.” He offers, taking the locket and unfastening its silver chain in order to place it around your neck. You loosen your scarf, and the locket lays against your chest as he fastens the clasp.

  Then he kisses you. The heat of his body and warmth of his mouth on yours is enough to make you forget the cold, and he persuades you backward and into one of the tall supporting pillars of the grand Boathouse.

  “Sev-” You gasp. “What if-”

  “You’re worried someone will see?” He presses his thigh firmly between yours to establish a gratifying friction and you can’t help grinding against him as he kisses you.

  “We shouldn’t-” You attempt to protest.

  Severus ceases all movement and moves away from you. “Then I’ll stop?” He raises an expectant eyebrow.

  Maybe it’s the drinks. Or perhaps the thrill of being seen (although it is gone midnight). Or, it could just be that you find Severus Snape so charmingly irresistible you can’t help yourself. But almost instantly you pull him back to you and whisper, with an unintentional tone of desperation in your voice, to not, stop.

  Severus doesn’t waste time. Within moments he has you pinned against the stone pillar with your legs around his waist, buried inside you to the hilt. He fucks you hard, and at just such an angle it takes all your will not to cry out his name with each rough thrust. And when he brings you again to the edge of contentment, he has to kiss you deeply to silence your breathless moans as you come intensely around him. Another minute, and Severus loses his self-control, allowing himself the pleasure of release.

  As you fall from your high and the two of you separate, you remember just how cold it is. “Now, it really is time to head back, Severus.” You grin.

  He nods with a soft laugh and accompanies you back to the castle and to you room, before bidding you a goodnight.

  You sink down onto your bed, pulling off your scarf and turning the silver locket between your fingers. You really are, hopelessly in love, with Severus Snape.

Chapter Text

Friday, 17^th February 1984

  Tonight’s impending full moon is making you nervous. You know you have no reason to be. Dumbledore and Severus had both assured, you hadn’t been bitten by the werewolf and you certainly won’t become one. But it still makes you uneasy all the same.

  The last lesson of the week is thankfully almost over, and as you set homework for the class of third years you’ve been teaching this afternoon (two parchments deducing their own fates and fortunes by means of Palmistry, due next Friday), you try to distract your troubling apprehension of the approaching night, with the comforting thought you’ll at least be in the company of Severus.

  Specifically – whilst the classroom empties and you tidy away the last of the days’ resources – you distract yourself with a reminder of Severus’ aspirations to have you pinned, face-down, against his desk…

  It’s a good distraction.

  Closing the tower’s trap door firmly behind you and descending its winding staircase, you decide to head to the staffroom for an hour or so before dinner, to get started on marking the previous week’s homework. You half expected Severus to make an appearance, but he doesn’t. Just as well, because you really do have a lot of work to read over.

  But when Severus’ presence is absent throughout dinner, too, you begin to wonder what’s keeping him so busy. You finish eating and bid a good evening to your fellow professors, and then head down to the dingy Potions classroom (wrapping yourself in your cloak as the castle succumbs to another bitterly cold and cloudless winters’ evening).

  Approaching the classroom you hear voices, and as you enter, you find Severus leaning on his desk with his arms folded and speaking to a young Slytherin boy.

  “But what if it doesn’t work?” The boy seems incredibly troubled.

  Severus takes a short breath. “I’m going to presume your doubts, are merely an expression of apprehension and, unease, as opposed to a lack of confidence in my potion brewing abilities?” He looks up momentarily, acknowledging your presence in the doorway.

  “Sir, I didn’t mean-”

  “I can assure you.” Severus’ eyes travel back to the boy. “The Wolfsbane is more than potent enough to prevent your transformation, provided, you have been taking it as, per, instruction.”

  The boy nods. “Yes, Sir.”

  “You have, been taking it as instructed?” He demands.

  The boy nods again. “Every day, for a week. It tastes…” He pulls a face of utter disgust. You happen to know from reading about it that Wolfsbane Potion tastes notoriously revolting.

  “Vile, I imagine. What did you expect?” Severus shrugs unsympathetically. It’s astounding how this man can be so considerate and attentive to one person and yet so cold and indifferent to another. You feel for the kid; he’s clearly in search of some emotional support, but he isn’t going to get it from Severus.

  “You’ll be fine.” You interrupt, approaching the desk. It’s only now he takes notice of you.

  “Professor,” He looks somewhat startled by your presence. “I, I’m sorry about everything that happened… I didn’t mean for-”

  “It’s okay.” You smile reassuringly. “No permanent damage done, see?”

  “Fortunately.” Severus leisurely interjects with a roll of his eyes.

  “I’m fine.” You maintain. “And Professor Snape is more than competent. The potion will work.” You place a comforting hand on the boys shoulder and squeeze gently.

  “I know,” he responds, “It’s just… What if?”

  “I understand. But I promise you, you’ll be okay.”

  Severus shifts against his desk but doesn’t speak.

  “Anyway,” you continue, “I doubt you’ve eaten yet,” he shakes his head. “If you hurry there’s still time for dessert, I imagine.”

  “Thanks Professor.” There’s almost a smile on his face as he straightens up. “And Professor Snape, thank you.”

  Severus hums unenthusiastically as the boy takes his leave and you find the two of you quite suddenly alone.

  “You could be a little more supportive. The kid’s terrified.” You huff.

  “That kid, almost killed you.” He disputes, placing his hands firmly either side of your waist and pulling you toward him.

  “Severus. It’s hardly his fault.” You frown. “And all he wanted was some reassurance.”

  “All he did, was question my competence.” He raises an eyebrow.

  “You know that’s not what he was trying to do.” Your fingers curl around the buttons of his jacket, and your eyes are level with his lips. You’re purposefully avoiding his stare but the way he leans back against the desk’s edge makes it near impossible not to become lost in his obsidian-dark gaze.

  “If, it makes you feel better… I’ll check on him in the morning.” Severus suggests lazily.

  “It would.”

  “What about you?” He places a hand on your cheek.

  “What about me?”

  “You’re still worried?” You hate to admit it, but you are.

  You shake your head softly. “It’s stupid. I know.”

  Severus pulls you closer and you bury your head into his chest as he envelopes you in a protective embrace. “You’re safe with me. You’ll always be safe with me.”

  The evening draws on, and as you wander the moonlit external corridors of Hogwarts alongside Severus, and the night grows darker and the moons luminescence bathes the castle in a resplendent silver glow, you find your earlier concerns completely eliminated.

  Taking your hands in his, Severus finds a seat on the ledge of a stone window and looks up at you. “I told you. Nothing to be afraid of.” His tone conveys some combination of kind reassurance and smug exactitude. You smile down at him, wanting to kiss away the I-told-you-so smirk on his lips.

  “Know it all…” You mumble, playfully shoving him backwards so he almost loses his balance. He frowns and pulls you onto the ledge beside him. Before you have time to protest, he places his lips on yours and promptly kisses you, hard. You kiss him back with as much conviction; his hands still firmly enclosed around your own.

  But you’re both quite suddenly interrupted by an exasperated Argus Filch on his usual late-night patrol of the corridors. “Oi! Oi! Students shouldn’t be outta bed!” He bawls from the darker reaches of the long passageway. You can’t help but giggle into Severus, realising that Filch has most likely mistaken the two of you for a pair of overzealous, canoodling students.

  Severus rises to his feet and steps out in front of Filch. “Argus.”

  Filch’s mouth drops and he lowers the softly glowing lantern. Mrs. Norris simply glares at you. “I, uh, Professors,” he splutters clumsily. “I, I thought you was,” Severus raises an expectant eyebrow. “I thought there was students… Sorry, Professors.” He offers feebly, a contorted apology gracing his haggard features.

  You bite your lip – a little embarrassed but also rather amused – and stand, placing a hand on Severus arm. He regards you hesitantly before looking back to Filch.

  “You’re lucky I have better places to be and better things to be doing.” He states with a warning glare.

  Filch’s wide eyes dart from one of you to the other. “I’ll err,” he grumbles, “I’ll let you get on, then.” He shuffles nervously sideways with another apologetic nod and dashes back off down the darkened passage with Mrs. Norris trotting along behind.

  “He’s making a habit of that.” You stifle another giggle as Filch disappears from view.

  “He interrupts again, and I’ll see to it that his life at Hogwarts is more of a misery than it already, presents, to be.” He affirms casually.

  You shiver, drawing your cloak around yourself once more.

  Severus notices. “Point proven,” he glances at the night sky. “Perhaps we should head back indoors.”

  “My room’s closer.” You smile suggestively, already making your way inside the castle. Severus reacts with a grin and swiftly follows you.

  Once back in your quarters, there’s scarcely time to lock the door before Severus is all over you. His kisses are fierce and wanting as he rids you of your clothes before shedding his own; discarding each item carelessly across the floor. Within moments he has you pinned against the bed; one hand firmly restraining your wrists above you head whilst his other teases apart your thighs.

  You gasp, bucking your hips as his fingers penetrate you. But he silences you with his mouth; his tongue seeking yours; hungry and desperate. You clench your fists and strain beneath his grip in a futile attempt to escape his hold. You want to touch him; to drag your fingers through his hair; run your hands over his pale skin; dig your nails into his broad shoulders; wrap your hand around his rigid, throbbing erection and tease him the way he teases you…

  He doesn’t let you.

  He already has you close to breaking point and it’s been barely five minutes. But he refuses to allow you what you crave. Not yet. Instead, satisfied you’re on the verge of surrender, he swiftly removes his fingers – eliciting from you a needy whimper – and settles himself between your legs.

  You writhe beneath Severus, urgently wanting him inside you again. He draws his eyes level with yours and tightens his fingers around your wrists. “Beg me.” He whispers; the power and seduction in his voice causes you to quiver under him.

  “Please,” you utter breathlessly.

  “What do you want?” He urges.

  “You… I want you.”

  “Say, it.”

  “Fuck me, Severus. Please, fuck me.”

  And seemingly content with your plea, he commits to burying himself inside you in one moan-inducing thrust. You close your eyes as the sound escapes you; the fullness he provides with that first snap of his hips might have been enough alone to send you over the edge and into euphoria, were it not for your desire to hold onto this feeling of closeness for as long as you possibly can.

  But Severus is resolved to make denying your orgasm impossible. He draws out, slowly, and then with as equal a force drives back into you. Again and again. Harder and faster until your will gives out and you find yourself devoid of all restraint; his name resounds from your lips and he continues to fuck you unrelentingly as you come for him.

  Every stroke sends shockwaves rippling through you as Severus claims your entire body. You maintain his rhythm; rocking your hips in time with his as he moves steadily above you. He shows no signs of slowing, and it’s clear he isn’t near finished.

  Finally he releases your wrists, and staring into your eyes instructs, “turn over,” whilst pulling up and away from you.

  Willing yourself to move, you do as Severus asks and position yourself on your knees. Within seconds, he sinks back into you with a deep sigh, and then places a hand on your shoulder, bringing you up toward him. With your back pressed against his hot chest, he places his hand on your throat and delicately wraps his fingers around it – the silver chain and locket he’d gifted you two days previous, resting beneath his palm. You grind slowly into him, rolling your hips and rising up and down under his guidance. With his one hand tightening on your throat he trails the other over your breasts; massaging and teasing before gliding further downward to where you’re already achingly sensitive.

  He breathes heavily near your ear and his fingers trace firm circles over and over you; the friction evoking deep, rasping breaths as you struggle to find air under his tight grip. But Severus knows your limits. He knows how far he can take you without hurting you. He knows, how to inflict just enough pain for it to be outweighed by pleasure; enough that if he were to stop you’d be begging him to keep going.

  And that second wave of pleasure takes you almost by surprise. It happens fast; your muscles contract all around him as you burn up from the inside; your vision grows hazy as the heat consumes you and you’re lost to Severus all over again. This time, he follows you, exhaling a low and familiar groan as he spills himself inside you with a few last, less-coordinated, thrusts.

  Then it’s all light-headedness and heavy panting and hot sweat as you collapse exhaustedly onto one another.

  You turn to face him, running a finger down his body. “You’re amazing, you know that?” You smile, before gently kissing his chest.

  He shrugs. “Am I?”

  “The most amazing man I ever met.” You admit, resting your chin on his shoulder.

  Severus looks away from you and silently gazes at the ceiling’s arched wooden beams.

  “No one’s told you that before, have they?" You question him after a short silence.

  “No one… Has ever found cause to.” He admits.

  You lay your head down against him. “I have cause to.” You assure him, gently holding onto the silver locket which hangs around your neck. Gradually, your tired eyes drift close, and you fall asleep in Severus’ arms to the sound of his softly beating heart.

---

  The following morning you wake to find Severus standing in the doorway of your bathroom with only a towel draped loosely around his lower half. The puff of steam and pleasant aroma which invades the room informs you he smells like your soap now, rather than his own.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.” He informs, running a second towel over his hair. You’re momentarily mesmerised by the water trailing in droplets from his tousled hair down his bare torso… The way they find themselves caught in the trail of dark hair which disappears below the towel… You return to your senses when he repeats your name. “Okay this morning?” He smirks.

  “Oh.” You run your hand over your face as he stares at you, trying to wake yourself up. “Mm, I’m good. What time is it?”

  “Eight-fifteen.”

  “You’re up early.”

  “Off to check on the boy as, promised.” He informs you, disappearing back into the bathroom for a moment before returning without any towels at all. Damp, naked Severus strolling across you room is quite the captivating sight.

  Gathering his clothes from the floor, he perches on the edge of the bed and begins to dress. Throwing back the bedcovers, you pull upward and place yourself behind him, wrapping your arms around his bare chest and kissing his shoulder.

  He stops what he’s doing and places his hands over yours. “If I could stay all day, I would.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the back of it gently.

  “Why can’t you?” You sigh, defeatedly, but knowing full well he’ll have work to do.

  Severus turns his head to face you. “I have seventeen sixth year essays to mark on Golpalott’s Third Law, and another twenty six third year essays on the correct procedure to brew an Antidote to Uncommon Poisons…” Severus appears to be working his classes hard, as usual. He turns his head a little further. “You know I love you,” His lip curls as he leans in and kisses you. “I’ll be free later this afternoon.”

  You smile and drop back down onto the bed, watching as he continues to dress himself. Truth be told you have plenty of things you yourself need to be getting on with today. As welcome a distraction as Severus is, you have to remind yourself not to allow him to get in the way of your work.

  You agree to see Severus later, around three o’clock, and once he’s gone you shower and dress, before sitting down in your cosy armchair in front of the lowly glowing fireplace with a parchment and quill. You’ve decided it’s probably about time you wrote your parents to let them know how you’re getting on.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Hope all is well with you, I thought I’d write and let you
you know everything here is going really well.
Of course there’s been a few ups and downs, but that’s
just the way things are at Hogwarts!
I absolutely love teaching, it’s gotten easier this term
and the students are doing great. Professor Dumbledore
is still more than happy with how it’s all going.
There’s another thing, too. I’ve met someone. His name is
Severus. It’s only been a few months but he’s lovely. I think
you’d really like him.

Miss you both, and give my love to Grandma

  After signing your name at the bottom of the short letter, you place it on the table beside you to allow the ink to dry. You purposefully leave out the part about the werewolves, deciding it would be far too much for your poor muggle parents to comprehend. Best they remain oblivious to the hazards of the wizarding world as much as is possible.

  You pull on your boots, scarf and a thick cloak, then double-check the inks on your letter are dry before folding it carefully into an envelope. You scribble the address on the front, then head out toward the Owlery, stopping by The Great Hall on the way in order to grab a quick slice of toast and marmalade.

  The Owlery is terribly cold this morning. The roof and circular stone walls do little to keep out the drafts, and climbing to the top of the tower you’re cautious not to slip on the thick ice which coats the grey-stone steps. Your boots crunch in the combined mess of owl droppings and mice carcasses littering floor as you search for the most eager-looking of the owls to take your letter. A small, ruffled-looking Tawny Owl is flitting about excitedly in and out of the gaping windows of the tower and, offering him the letter, he gratefully clutches it in his beak before squeaking and departing avidly with it. You watch for a short while as he vanishes across the Great Lake and into the distance.

---

  “You wrote to your parents about me?” Severus questions, a little taken aback.

  “Not specifically about you. But you were mentioned.” You shrug, lounging casually in one of the comfortable armchairs in Severus’ room and flicking through a copy of The Daily Prophet. You can feel him staring at you even without looking up from the article you’re skimming over about some of the more unfortunate flavours Wizards have recently discovered in their Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans (including spoiled milk and boot polish). “You know you’d probably like them.” You submit, turning your attention to an advert for wand tuning.

  “Would I?”

  “Sure.” You flick the page and busy yourself with reading a story about some confused muggles who’d woken up this morning to their crops being flattened in an unusual manner. One muggle in particular had to be obliviated after he’d witnessed a herd of Mooncalves dancing through his wheat field during last night’s full moon. He’d subsequently reverted to claiming the crop circles had been created by aliens. You chuckle to yourself.

  “Would they, like me, though?” Severus mutters.

  You peer over the top of your paper and ask, “Why wouldn’t they?” before turning another page to find a double-page spread about the Wizard’s Chess World Championships. It’s a relatively dull article, and you quickly turn to the next page to browse this seasons in dress robes.

  Severus doesn’t answer, so you change the subject. “How was the kid earlier?”

  “Relieved to have avoided his grim transformation... And back to his usual self, it seems. When I entered the common room he and his fellow classmates were… In the midst of devising a prank intended, I believe, for Filch…” His reply comes with a suggestion of displeasure at the notion any student should even consider such a thing, whilst at the same time, the expression on his face tells you he is somewhat privately amused.

  “Well, that’s good.” You nod with a smirk, perusing the astrology column.

  Severus clears his throat. “Indeed…”

  You flick past a section about dragon dung, thinking how interested Pomona would probably be in it. “So tomorrow’s Quidditch match, it’s Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, isn’t it?”

  “It is.”

  “Apparently Slytherin have been training extra hard this term. At least Hagrid seems to think so. I think they’re in with a good chance.” You’re feeling positive about the outcome of tomorrow’s match, and Severus is inclined to agree.

  Idling away the rest of the afternoon and evening with Severus – talking, reading, and curling up in front of the warmth of the fire – the two of you are content just to be in one another’s company.

  When Sunday morning arrives, it takes all the determination you can muster to actually drag yourself away and out of Severus’ bed to start the day. But you feel it’s only right you both be present at the Quidditch match today. Severus at the very least, is expected to be there to support Slytherin house. And as you eat breakfast alongside the other Professors, you recognise the familiar aura of collective excitement as it fills The Great Hall. The students are all chattering eagerly about the projected outcome of the match.

  After finishing breakfast (today’s selection being all the components of a Full English), you head off toward the Quidditch pitch alongside the other Professors and excited students. Unlike at Slytherin’s previous match, the weather today is decidedly more favourable. The air is crisp and cold, and the frost that clings to the grass crunches beneath your boots as you traipse over the grounds, but the sun is beaming and brings with it a hint of warmth.

  You take a seat in the stands besides Severus and, glancing at him, you remember how the last time you’d both sat here you’d been determined to ignore him. He looks at you momentarily, then places a hand over yours as it rests on your knee. He turns his gaze back to the pitch, and you smile inwardly, turning your attention, too, to the pitch and awaiting the arrival of the teams.

  When they finally swoop out over the pitch and the match commences under Madame Hooch’s signal, you feel a small jolt of excitement. Slytherin take possession of the Quaffle right away, and within ten minutes have scored the first three goals. They’re doing exceptionally well.

  “Both teams have already won a match each this season, whoever takes today’s win takes the lead in the Inter-House Quidditch Championship!” Comes the voice of today’s commentator over the stands.

  Ravenclaw’s seeker makes a sudden dive, presumably having spotted the Golden Snitch, and your stomach lurches at the thought of the game being over so quickly. But then a Bludger comes hurtling through the air causing their seeker to veer off course and almost fly straight into the supporting Ravenclaw’s. There’s a collective “Oooh!” of dismay from the crowd as the front row of fans brace themselves for collision with the seeker and her broom. Fortunately, she manages to steer away just in time, with mere inches to spare.

  You cheer fervidly as Slytherin scores their fourth goal another five minutes in, and the Ravenclaw supporters (the majority of the school excluding Slytherin, it would appear) erupts in an outcry of dismay.

  “Ravenclaw you can do better than this!” The commentator seems just as disheartened as the rest of the school, it seems. “Yes! That’s it, Ravenclaw in possession, the Quaffle has been passed, they’re flying for the goal, and they’ve scored!” You don’t cheer this time.

  The match continues in much the same way, with Slytherin scoring triumphant goal after triumphant goal, and Ravenclaw scoring just one for every three or four in comparison.

  After fourty-five minutes the score reaches Slytherin 120 | Ravenclaw 40 and the faces on the Ravenclaw supporters tell you they’ve already given up hope. Slytherin are just too good this year.

  But then, “The Snitch has been spotted! It’s neck and neck as both teams battle to claim victory! Whoever catches the Snitch will win 150 points and it’s all over! Come on Ravenclaw!” You frown. The girl providing the commentary must be from Ravenclaw …

  You watch, breath caught in your throat as the two players soar higher and higher above the pitch side by side until you can’t see what’s happening anymore. Meanwhile Ravenclaw manages to score another two goals, to the delighted whooping of the crowds; the deafening cheer drowning out the booing of the Slytherin’s.

  Then seemingly from nowhere, the Slytherin seeker sweeps back into view flying low over the stands, his arm outstretched and a wide and victorious grin plastered over his face. Between his fingers, glinting magnificently in the sparkling sunlight, is the Golden Snitch.

  “150 points to Slyhtherin! Slytherin wins, 270 points to Ravenclaw’s 60! Outstanding!” Severus is the first of the Professors to rise to his feet, and he applauds encouragingly with a proud smile. Slytherin House is on their feet too as the Quidditch team flies victory laps around the pitch to the roar of the crowd.

  Slytherin have taken the lead in the Inter-House Quidditch Championship.

---

  For almost a whole week following Slytherin’s triumph, the Ravenclaw students seemed to sulk about the castle feeling sorry for themselves, whilst the winning House took every opportunity imaginable to gloat about their victory. On one occasion, during lunch time on Thursday, a fight had almost broken out between the two houses in the middle of The Great Hall. Severus was quick to put a stop to it with an Impediment Jinx, which although suspended the students for only few moments, was enough to frighten them into ceasing their scuffle as the Potions Master scowled exasperatedly at them – and then offered a deduction of 40 points from Ravenclaw whom he deemed responsible for initiating the brawl.

  By the Monday after that, all attention had thankfully shifted to the next upcoming trip to Hogsmeade that Saturday, and the consecutive Quidditch match; Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff scheduled for Sunday the 4^th of March, a week before the Easter holidays (which are falling exceedingly early this year).

  The thought of the approaching holidays has you conflicted. On the one hand, they can’t come fast enough. Because it means two weeks of uninterrupted time to spend with Severus, and the school will be relatively devoid of students as the majority travel home to spend time with their families. On the other hand, however, it’ll leave little more than three months until the end of the school year and the conclusion of your temporary teaching position as Professor of Divination.

  The idea of having to be anywhere besides Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and without Severus Snape, is an idea you can’t even begin to entertain.

Chapter Text

Saturday, 3^rd March 1984

  “The Leaky Cauldron?” Severus muses as he lays on his back with you half on top of him, propped up with your elbows either side of his chest and your fingers inattentively stroking his bare skin.

  “Well, it’s easy for them to find. And I thought we could stay a night or two, get away from the castle for a bit?”

  He pauses, lips parted as though in thought. “Tell me again, why your parents want to meet me?”

  “I was planning to visit them at Easter anyway…” You shrug.

  “And?”

  “And… You are dating their daughter.” You lean forward, kissing him lightly on the lips. “Their only daughter…” You kiss his jaw. “And besides…” Then his neck. “I want to show you off…” Your mouth moves to his chest, and gradually to his stomach.

  Severus closes his eyes and breathes deeply as you move further down the bed, softly caressing his body with tender kisses. His chest rising and falling steadily, he exhales a low groan when you lick a broad stripe along his hardening shaft. And teasing your tongue over him you look up, delighting in the way his brow furrows and his lips part when you take him fully into your mouth.

  He looks down at you, dragging his fingers through your hair and sweeping it from your face whilst your mouth works eagerly. You swirl your tongue over the premature, peal-white droplets which form at his tip, before swallowing around him once more, and sucking with keen fervour.

  And the way his fingers curl tighter, and his hips rise and fall gently in time with your rhythmic movements, tells you when he’s nearing his end. It takes little more coaxing before he succumbs to your control and spills his release without constraint.

  With a gratifying groan, he loosens his grip and rolls his head back against the pillows. “Was that,” he breathes deeply, “your idea, of a bribe?”

  You lick your lips and shift further up the bed to rest against his chest again. “No,” you consider with a smirk. “That was just because I enjoy it.”

  Severus laughs softly and holds you to him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

  Glancing by chance at the clock, you suddenly realise how late you’re both running. “Severus.” your exclamation startles him.

  “What?”

  “Hogsmeade.”

  He rolls his eyes with a disgruntled sigh, remembering how McGonagall had somehow roped the both of you into accompanying another school trip to Hogsmeade Village.  “Will I have to listen to Hagrid rambling incessantly about turnips again all day?” He mumbles, forcing himself out of bed.

  “Not if you’re lucky.” You shrug, hurriedly pulling on some clothes (somehow a good portion of your wardrobe has managed to merge itself with Severus’, and you’re not unconvinced the house elves are at least partly responsible).

  Concluding there’s no time for breakfast this morning, the both of you head to the entrance courtyard to find Minerva McGonagall waiting with an impatient expression on her face. “Ah, nice of the both of you to join us.” She raises an unamused eyebrow.

  “Don’t, mention it.” Severus remarks with sarcastic indifference.

  McGonagall chooses not to respond, and instead disappears through the crowd to head the procession of students in the direction of Hogsmeade.

  You can’t help but notice as you amble between groups of students, the way some of them – specifically the older ones who’d known you as a fellow student – still can’t help but glance and whisper amongst each other when they see you and Severus together. You wouldn’t mind, and you’re certainly not ashamed, but it’s getting a little bit annoying.

  The weather seems to have cheered up remarkably over the past week or two, and the first signs of Spring’s arrival are prevalent as you wander the pathway to the Village; the snow has retreated almost entirely and the first of the seasons Daffodils are beginning to present themselves.

  Arriving at last in Hogsmeade, the crowds disperse in their usual manner, and you opt to join the other Professors for their usual drinks in The Three Broomsticks.

  Once everyone is settled and the drinks are ordered, Hagrid strikes up a conversation. “Lookin’ forward ter the Easter break then?” He asks, drinking down most of a bottle of Knotgrass Mead in one go.

  “I am. Could do with a couple weeks break.” You nod.

  “You two er, got any plans?” He speaks to Severus as much as he does to you.

  Severus quietly sips his own drink. “Not really.” You answer.

  After a few more awkward exchanges, and before Hagrid can begin telling you all about his vegetables, Severus announces, “I’m going to get some breakfast.” He glances at you, presumably hoping you’ll join him.

  “That sounds like an idea.”

  Excusing yourselves from the rest of the group, you head back outside with Severus. “Are you genuinely getting breakfast, or was that an excuse?” You ask, with a chuckle.

  “Believe it or not, I’m actually hungry.” He informs you, before adding “but perhaps it was both.”

  You end up in in a small tea shop situated a little further down the high-street. It’s a relatively quiet establishment; the outside is painted in faded green, and a large metal teapot hangs over the words Rosa Lee Teabag, which are printed in peeling white letters above the windows and door of the shop. The walls inside are adorned with various decorative tea plates, all with enchanted pictures which are going cheerfully about their business – much like the portraits of Hogwarts – and it smells deliciously like freshly baked cakes.

  You take a seat at small table in the corner, watching as a collection of painted Kingfishers appear to flutter between a dozen, elegant, gold-rimmed plates situated on the wall beside you. After ordering two toasted sandwiches and a pot of a tea from an elderly looking waitress in a pink tartan pinafore, you return your attention to Severus, regarding him quietly for a moment before asking, “Are you sure you don’t mind, then?”

  Severus stares blankly at you. “Mind what?”

  “You know,” you respond as the little old witch returns with sandwiches and tea. “Meeting my Mum and Dad.” The tea pours itself into delicate little cups which are perched on saucers not unlike the ones decorating the walls.

  Severus sips his tea before shrugging in what he probably believes to be a casual manner, but in truth he has an anxious look in his dark eyes that you’ve never observed on display for anyone besides yourself. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  It’s hard to tell if he actually is looking forward to it, or if he’s just going along with it for your benefit. “If you really don’t want to-”

  Severus cuts you off mid-sentence, placing his cup back on its saucer. “I want to. I’ve just never done this, whole…” His eyes flitter away momentarily.

  “Relationships?” You ask.

  His lips part and his brow furrows just slightly and he answers with a quiet, “No.”

  You don’t push any further. You simply smile reassuringly and change the subject. The more time you spend with him, the more Severus is beginning to open up to you; all of his emotions and insecurities are gradually being laid out for you and you alone.

---

  Hufflepuff win their match against Gryffindor on Sunday by ten points, and there’s far less bickering and animosity between the two houses than there had been when Slytherin had won against Ravenclaw the previous weekend.

  The last few days leading up to the end of the term, you’re certain, are twice as long as days usually are. You manage to steal a few moments here and there with Severus throughout the week (a conversation over dinner or five minutes in the staffroom), but you put all your efforts into teaching your classes and setting them up with homework for the Easter break. The exams of next term are fast approaching and you’re determined your students will all pass with a minimum of Exceeds Expectations.

  As your last class of the week packs away their books and crystal balls (most of the lesson had been spent gazing idly into the clear-glass orbs), and you set homework for the group of Seventh Years (Essays on which methods of Divination they personally find the most effective and at least three prophecies pertaining to their immediate futures, [derived from those very methods]), you feel the weight of the working week finally lift.

  Your drowsy-looking students seem to suddenly snap back into a frenzy of excited consciousness as the bells rings to signal the end of the lesson, and they all hurry out of the trap door chattering animatedly about their plans for the coming weeks. All of them, that is, except for one girl who is hovering apprehensively by your desk with her back to you.

  “Gwen? Was there something I can help you with?” You ask, approaching the tall, red-headed Ravenclaw girl.

  “Oh, um…” Her eyes wander aimlessly over the contents of the desk before she turns to look up at you. “I just, I wondered if you could help me with something.”

  “Sure.” You reply, keen to offer any help needed. “What is it?”

  Gwen stares back in momentary silence, before rummaging through her bag and producing a copy of The Oracle of Palombo. “There was just something I’d read in here,” she opens the book and flicks through the pages, “that I didn’t quite understand and I wondered if you’d explain it to me a little more.”

  You nod and gesture to one of the small, round tables. “Let’s take a look then.” You smile, taking a seat. She sits opposite you and hands you the book.

 You begin reading over the first paragraph (a very in-depth passage regarding numerology theories). But before you can begin to explain the writings of Bathilda Bagshot, Gwen asks you an incredibly un-related question.

  “Professor, is it really true about you and Professor Snape?”

  “Gwen, I don’t think that’s really…” You mutter a response, still reading over the pages.

  “It’s just everyone’s saying it is. You know, true, that you’re dating him. And you have been for months.”

  You look up from the book and frown. “Gwen-”

  “I have noticed, you know, you’re always with him. You disappeared on that trip to Hogsmeade with him last weekend. You spend a lot of time together.”

  “This really isn’t something I want to discuss. I thought you wanted help with this?” You gesture to the book laying on the table in front of you.

  “Oh, I do.” She responds avidly, though you’re beginning to doubt it. There’s a moment of silence before, “But isn’t it a bit odd. Dating your old Professor?”

  You close the book with a sigh. “Not that it’s really your business, but he only taught me for one year.” You shake your head in defence. “And besides, Sev-” you pause. “Professor Snape was very young when he started teaching here.”

  There’s another awkward silence, and then, “What’s he like?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know, I mean he always seems so… Irritable. He hates everyone.”

  “He doesn’t. He’s just… He’s efficient.”

  “Efficient?” Gwen raises an eyebrow.

  You feel your cheeks growing hot. “No. Yes. I mean, he doesn’t hate everyone he just expects the best from his students and he doesn’t tolerate…”

  “Anyone.” She rolls her eyes. “Besides you.”

  You stand up from the table and pass the book back to the inquisitive girl. “You should probably-”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to know, you know, if he’s different with you?”

  You take a deep breath. Yours and Severus’ personal relationship is neither an appropriate subject for discussion, nor something you’re willing to divulge to a student. You hadn’t known Gwen well when you’d been a student here yourself, and you certainly aren’t interested in making friends with her now.

  “He’s… There’s more to, Snape, than meets the eye. But I’m not having this discussion.”

  The girl sighs and stuffs the book back into her bag and stands, too, from the table. She pauses like she might respond, but then simply turns and disappears from the Divination Tower without so much as another word, leaving you alone and confused as to what makes her so interested in Severus.

---

  “Gwendoline Greenwood… Ravenclaw girl? Red hair? Yes, I know her. One of my better students.” Severus muses when you ask him about her later that evening. “She’s quiet, usually…” You lay back against the soft, dark rug which canvasses the stone floor beneath Severus’ ember-emitting fire place. “You should put it,” he wavers above you; his body enveloping yours, “out of your mind…”

  Severus’ lips brush your own and you close your eyes as he presses closer; his fingers dancing their way lightly over the length of your naked form, and his gentle touch sending shivers through your body. His tongue sinks into your mouth as his hand spreads your legs, and in one gentle but firm motion he drives himself deep into you.

  You moan gently against his mouth, rolling your hips against his as he fucks you at a steady and controlled pace. All other thoughts vacate your mind and you’re consumed entirely by Severus. He dominates you long into the night, until you’re both so breathless and exhausted you can’t go on any longer; collapsing contentedly in one another’s arms.

  The following morning, during breakfast, you consider the castle to be quieter than usual. No doubt most of the students are hurriedly packing the last of their belongings before making the long trip back to London from Hogsmeade.

  As though he must know what you’re thinking, Dumbledore leans toward you as you’re halfway through your second piece of toast, and mutters “forty two.”

  “Sorry, Professor?”

  “Forty two students staying for the Easter break this year, if you were wondering.”

  “Oh. Another quiet couple of weeks, then.” You nod, continuing with your buttered toast.

  “Severus tells me the two of you are planning a trip next weekend?” He asks, seemingly interested. You’d been meaning to speak to Dumbledore about it yourself, but Severus had apparently already taken the liberty. “Don’t worry, it’s all agreed, I’m sure the castle will cope with your absences for a day or two. I’ll see to it the remaining Slytherin students are overseen, should any problems arise.” He smiles fondly, and you thank him, assuring him you’d only be gone for two days.

  As you leave breakfast, you come across a curious commotion unfolding in the corridor outside. A frenzy of laughter erupts from a gathering of students, coupled with the familiar voice of Filch bellowing obscenities. “You’ve turned my bloody cat into a bloody chicken! I’ll have you for this! All of you! Which one of you nasty little-”

  “That’s, quite enough, Mr. Filch.” Severus interrupts Argus’ ranting and raving, parting the crowd with his mere presence. Narrowing his eyes, he scans the accumulation of amused looking faces before settling his gaze on Filch, who appears to be frantically chasing an annoyed sounding chicken (albeit still with the ears of a cat) around the corridor.

  “Professor,” he begins, exasperatedly clutching the hysterical chicken with both hands (it’s quite a sight, and you find it difficult to stifle a giggle). “One of this horrible lot has turned my cat, into a… Well, look at her!” Mrs. Norris doesn’t look any more affectionate or approachable in chicken form than she usually would.

  “Don’t you all have trunks to pack, or homework to attend to?” Severus demands coldly, disbanding the gathering of students. The chuckling continues as they all shuffle away with Filch glaring furiously at the lot of them.

  “A simple Pullus jinx, Argus. No need to fret.” Severus assures him. And with a wave of his wand he executes a Reparifarge counter-jinx, and a very displeased Mrs. Norris transforms from chicken to cat, before leaping indignantly back to the floor with a furious hiss.

  “I want to know who’s responsible for this. I want to see some punishment around here!” Filch spits angrily, his eyes travelling between yourself and Severus.

  Severus raises an eyebrow with a look of general disinterest on his face. “I’ll look into it.” He shrugs, tucking his wand back into his robes.

  Filch mutters something incomprehensible under his breath and ambles away wearing a worse-than-usual scowl.

  “Are you going to look into it?” You ask, smirking.

  “No.” Severus replies casually.

  By Saturday evening, the castle is as quiet and empty as it had been at Christmas time. You’d seen the majority of the students off on the Hogwarts Express, waving them goodbye alongside Hagrid once again. Hagrid, as usual, had asked you back to his cabin for a catch up, a cup of tea (or three), and some biscuits (this time it was some rather delicious Easter shortbread he’d purchased in Hogsmeade).

  Hagrid had mostly talked about all the vegetables he was planning on growing this year, and about the forest and the creatures he’d been tending to recently (specifically about some unicorn foals he’d spotted). You then went on to discuss the recent inter-house Quidditch results and agreed that Slytherin really have the best chances of winning this year. What Hagrid didn’t mention, however, was Severus. Perhaps after you’d cut your previous conversation short in the Three Broomsticks last weekend, he was reluctant to ask you any further questions.

  You decide to mention next weekend’s trip to Diagon Alley.

  “Oh, that’ll be lovely that will. Bet they’s proud o’ you, getting’ accepted as a teacher at your age.” Hagrid beams as he gulps down the last of his third cup of tea.

  “They are.” You smile. “And um, I’m going to introduce them to Severus, too.”

 “Blimey. You two’re that serious ey?” You haven’t really considered it that way, but yes, you suppose you are.

---

  The rest of your weekend is spent, as often it is, in Severus constant and affectionate company. You talk, you read, you take walks through the grounds in the brisk and early-spring air. On Monday you manage, reluctantly, to part with him for the majority of the day in order to mark the last of the previous weeks Divination homework, and begin arranging your teaching notes for the following term. You end up spending much of Tuesday doing the same, but getting things out of the way early in the week means you won’t have to worry about it later. Severus is of much the same opinion and he spends his time locked away in the dungeons, working at his desk. The only difference between a regular school week and the holidays, is that at the end of the day you’re in his bed, with his name on your lips as he ruins you over and over again; your lust for one another is truly insatiable.

  “Oh, fuck, Severus…” You curse his name in the early morning, with your eyes shut tight and your fists grasping his soft, dark hair as he brings you to another body-shattering orgasm. You gasp for breath and gaze down at him. He grins; head resting against your thigh as he places a final kiss against your sensitive, wet heat, causing you to shudder. “How are you…” You swallow hard. “How are you that good?”

  He smiles modestly before pulling away and dropping onto the bed beside you. “I guess I didn’t know I was.” He responds without looking at you.

  You roll onto your side and lay your head on his shoulder. “You are.” You affirm. “Considering you said you haven’t had many relationships…”

  “I said relationships…” He pauses, and glances at you for a moment before returning his focus to the stone ceiling. “I didn’t say sex… I’ve just never, found anyone before that I… Had a real connection with. Well, not since…” He grows quiet.

  “Lily. I know you loved her.”

  Severus takes a deep breath and turns onto his side to face you. “Yes, I loved Lily. I didn’t think I’d, ever love anyone like that again.” You run your fingers through his hair, brushing it gently from his face. “When she, chose someone else over me, I tried finding comfort elsewhere. In other, women. I tried to lose myself but it never worked. Until you…” You smile and rest your hand on his cheek. “You make me feel things I never thought I could.”

  You could’ve stayed there forever, absorbed in his midnight-black gaze; bodies entwined and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. But the outside world did exist, and Severus had a Potions storeroom which needed organising and re-stocking. But since you hadn’t any other work of your own to busy yourself with that morning, you’d decided to tag along.

  “Remind me, again,” Severus murmurs, halfway up a ladder and running a finger along a relatively well-stocked shelf. “What it is your parents do, in the Muggle world?” He frowns as he reaches a particularly empty-looking jar on the shelf.

  “Mum’s a teacher. She teaches Chemistry.” You reply, leaning casually against the stone doorway and watching him.

  Severus glances at you momentarily and raises an eyebrow. “No wonder you excelled in Potions…” He responds.

  You suppose the two are, indeed, quite similar. You simply shrug with a smile as he returns his attentions to the numerous jars and vials lining the walls. “Dad works in construction.”

  “Ah yes…” Severus replies casually, stepping down off of the ladder. “Curious.” He mutters.

  “What, construction?”

  “No, not that.” He lifts an empty jar. “Unusually low on Boomslang skin… and... other, ingredients…” He glances back across the walls. “Someone’s been in here without my permission.”

  You run your eyes over the shelves. “Well, maybe it’s just those Slytherin boys concocting another prank for Filch?” You suggest.

  Severus doesn’t seem particularly convinced. “If I find out it’s them, I might just let Filch decide their fates this time. I know what an affinity he has for concocting unpleasant punishments.” (Filch had been most put out when you’d bumped into him yesterday and the pair of you had failed to come up with any names in regards to Mrs. Norris being poorly transfigured into a chicken. Although you suspect Severus is regarding the prank as payback after he’d interrupted you both last month.)

  “No matter.” He returns the container to its place and turns to you. “Shall we?” He gestures to the hallway outside, indicating he’s finished with the Potions store cupboard.

  “Are you done for the day?” You question hopefully.

  Severus smirks and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I’m all yours.” He whispers, trailing his hand through your hair and then kissing you firmly.