This was written for the marvellous werewolfsfan for her donation to one of the help_haiti charities over at LJ. If you'd like a drabble written, all it will cost is a $3 donation towards any of the Haitian Relief Funds. Send me proof at my email address and I will not only also donate $3 also, but I will write you a drabble of 500+ words. See my thread at LJ to claim your fic.

http: // community DOT livejournal DOT com SLASH help_haiti SLASH 2706 DOT html?view=1384594#t1384594 (leave out the spaces and replace DOT and SLASH with appropriate symbol)

Or you can PM me through this site and I can send you the link details.

Disclaimer: This fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and affiliates. No money is being made and no offense is intended. Characters are of legal age for sexual situations.

He pushed me into an alcove as he walked me to dinner in the Great Hall. 'What...?' I began then he was there, his hand – rough in places from potion burns – on my face and his lips - pressing far more tentatively than his actions might suggest - brushing mine.

My hands grabbed at the front of his robes, my breath hitching audibly in my throat and, for a moment, he wavered between backing away and firming the hesitant kiss. I stared at him, eyes wide, and watched those dark eyes harden with resolve before his (surprisingly) soft mouth caught my bottom lip. My eyelids fluttered shut and my stomach slowly flipped over as he sucked gently. A tiny noise escaped me, muffled by that gentle mouth, and when his tongue stroked enquiringly at my lips, they parted on a sigh.

I kissed him back, uncertainty soon swallowed by the pull of heated hormones. My arms twined around his neck, fingers tangling in long, dark locks, and he pressed me back into the wall. Rough stone dug into my skin, but the pain was overwhelmed by the pounding of blood in my ears, by the sudden warmth low in my belly, by the sweep of a tongue over mine.

A throat was cleared noisily and we pulled apart with a gasp, my hand flying to my swollen lips to pointlessly try and hide the evidence of what we had been doing. Professor McGonagall was firm, but kind as she sent us through to the Great Hall. As we parted, Severus' hand brushed gently over mine, his eyes hopeful, worshipful. I felt a surge of power: one kiss, and he looked as though he would slay a dragon for me. Then came an equally powerful wash of guilt when I realised that I wouldn't do the same for him.

'See you later?' he asked shyly, and I smiled shakily.

'Alright,' I said, panic prickling at my insides as I sat down heavily at the table, staring unseeingly at the roast beef.

He was my friend – the one who had taken me under his wing and protected me from my sister's cries of 'freak', the one who understood what it was like to be different, the one who had explained the unknown to me so I wouldn't look like a complete idiot in my first weeks in this new world.

My body wanted him. It felt heavy, achy; it had responded to the touch of his lips, the press of his body. But my heart, my fickle, foolish heart...

He wasn't the one it craved.

Tears stung my eyes as Severus' hopeful face swam through my mind. I blinked them away furiously when I heard a strident, taunting voice raised above the general dinner time cacophony. I felt a rush of anger at the owner of the voice. It was all his fault. He was the one who wouldn't leave me be, the one who annoyed and frustrated me beyond all reason, the one my ridiculous heart had set itself on, refusing to be shifted...

He called my name, and I looked at him, a thousand butterflies exploding inside me as hazel eyes met mine. Pain lanced through me when I saw a familiar hopeful, worshipful glint in those eyes, but this time, I felt a corresponding throb of 'yes' in my soul. He brandished a Transfigured red rose at me, mouthing a completely absurd poem, and I could have screamed when my fingers itched to reach out.

Why couldn't it be Severus that made my heart pound like he made my body sing? Why did it have to be the most obnoxious person I knew that held the key to both? I glanced across to the neighbouring table, catching Severus' gaze. He rolled his eyes and scowled at James Potter's attention-seeking actions then smiled earnestly at me. I couldn't stand it any longer.

One well-placed hex later, the annoying Potter had been rebuffed and had retreated to lick his now multi-coloured wounds. Severus approved of Potter's new colour scheme, but was disgruntled that I'd be spending my evening with McGonagall instead of him.

And I... I had one more night to think up a way of avoiding breaking my best friend's heart.

fin.