Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or any part of J.K. Rowlings imagination.
A/N: This was once part of a much, MUCH longer Snape/Sinistra fic that I never finished due to life getting in the way. But I loved this part so much, and love this pairing even more that I felt it a great injustice if I didn't post something of them both on here. Enjoy. (Oh... and Vector is a male in this, soooo... slightly AU ;) ). REVIEW... please?
Tongue-Tied
Severus Snape was not happy. The second last Quidditch match of the season between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, and here he was, outside the entrance to the Great Hall, on duty. Thank you, Vector, for casually pointing out to the Headmaster that I had missed yard duty last month and therefore should make up for a task that is completely pointless in the first place…
Snape sneered distastefully as he paced up and down listlessly, while hearing the faint roar of the crowd, as one of the teams (Slytherin, obviously) had scored. He leant against a stone pillar to the entrance of the castle, letting the chilly autumn wind sting his face. Why he was on duty in the castle when every other living soul was currently causing mayhem in the Quidditch stands was an utterly alien concept to him.
To hell with this.
He stomped off towards the stadium, his scarf tucked tight around his neck.
To no surprise, seats in the Slytherin stand were few and far between. He remained standing alone in the shadows of the chattering crowd. After a few minutes, however, he found himself a seat in the very corner when its previous occupant had rushed away – mumbling something about a lost wand, as so often happened at these events.
"I thought you were supposed to be on duty," the woman next to him stated in a quiet but faintly amused manner. Snape turned and caught the eye of Professor Sinistra, one half of her face hidden by the hood of her cloak. He looked back towards the pitch, unpleasantness etched onto the lines of his face.
"While spite must be glorious fun in the sun to you and your beloved Septima, I refuse to be made a part of it - thank you very much" he shot back coolly, feeling the anger from the night before swell up once again.
"Severus, Septima was only doing what he felt-"
"And I'll also thank you to cease making pitiful excuses for him" Snape spat and added under his breath: "I'd wager you'd make a pitiful excuse, even if he had turned out a mass murderer."
He heard Sinistra give a frustrated sigh as she leant back in her chair, turning away from him by a couple of degrees. Through his anger, a limited amount of common sense found its way back to him – and he wondered what had given him such due cause to lash out, seemingly unprovoked. Sinistra had gone deathly quiet, and it appeared that she was more adamant on looking away from him then she did actually looking at the players on the pitch.
"You weren't at the staff meeting today, I am curious as to how you avoided it." Snape forced himself to utter after a few awkward minutes, albeit with a fair amount of effort and a weighty, heaved sigh before he did so. Sinistra did not turn around, but she did answer.
"No life-threatening or other exhilarating situations, unfortunately. Let's blame it on being occupied with preparing students for the looming NEWT exams..."
"Don't concern yourself with such matters" Snape said shortly, folding his arms and looking away distastefully. "Most of the teachers here mollycoddle the students abysmally, letting them get away with anything..."
She turned to him with a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.
"None of your students have ever failed their OWL's or NEWT's, Severus, you are entitled to say such things."
"I simply refuse to allow any of those bumbling dolts to soil my perfect record," Snape acknowledged with a grimace. "I don't care if each and every one of them stumbles out of my Potions classroom in nervous fits at the end of the year, I will not have my students fail. Consider it, Professor."
"Thank you for the offer, but I shall have to decline integrating it into my class." Sinistra stated calmly; Snape was rather conversant of her forthright manner by this stage, it was a typical response from her. The cheer of the crowd echoed above them; Slytherin were close to winning the game.
"The examiners lenience does nothing to help their ever-growing revolution against sense." Snape replied. She laughed lightly. Snape frowned irritably but he refrained from speaking; he had not meant to make her laugh.
"Perhaps you should consider becoming one, Severus. I am sure you could put the entire cosmos back into its rightful order."
Snape fell quiet and did not answer her. He felt ridiculously gauche. Wanting to escape further chitchat with the Astronomy professor, he nodded his quick goodbye and stood up to face the corner of the Slytherin stand, preparatory to mounting the stairs to sneak away before the crowds swarmed back to the castle. He had reached the mid landing of the long staircase and turned back to see Sinistra standing directly behind him, also stepping onto the central landing. He wondered if his comments regarding Septima had given her enough cause to follow him and extract some variety of retribution.
"The game's not over yet, if you haven't – ah…" He trailed off as Sinistra put a small gentle hand on his back, just below his shoulder blades. Snape spun around and had one passing thought on just why Sinistra had felt the urge to stand an inch from his face before their lips touched lightly together.
Cold, frosty lips brushed back and forth, at first with supreme delicacy. They parted almost instantaneously; he could hear her issue a small gasp of shock over what she had done... a few seconds of slight awkwardness…
"I thought..." Snape cleared his throat and tried again, "I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wasn't interested in…" his protest was cut off as, for a couple of seconds at most, he had apparently lost the will to articulate. He started to inwardly panic as his weaknesses began to grow more apparent in the continuing silence, only broken by sounds of breathlessness. In what he considered to be his most moronic strategy for terminating awkward silences to date – Snape had stepped forward and swiftly brought their lips together yet again.
A few seconds… their refusal to part was not altogether due to the brief moment of physical pleasure it brought. It was rather to avoid the embarrassment of standing in front of someone after performing such an act and being at a complete loss for words… the mere thought of it was unbearable.
After what seemed an excruciating amount of time had lapsed simply standing there like an imbecile with his lips pressed against hers, Snape decided he would have to pull himself together and be the first to draw back; he tried to get his knees to support him again. He pulled away much more violently than before, wholly relieved to be able to put a little distance between them without looking a blundering idiot; she stumbled back so harshly that he had to reach out and seize her.
"I thought... I thought I made it..." he said, coming to the conclusion that he was currently not in the best physical condition for talking.
"You did, yes. I have no idea why…" Sinistra said, snatching herself back from his lingering grasp. Another excruciating pause. Snape held deep contempt towards her newly found expression; it was one of pure revulsion, and he knew Septima Vector was the reason behind it.
"I bet a galleon on Slytherin," she finally stated casually, backing away slowly down the stairs. "I should be off to collect my winnings."
"I had hoped you would be supporting your old House," Snape replied quietly, refusing to look away from her face – for that would be cowardice.
She found a weak smile for him, and then collected herself together and ducked away; he vigilantly waited until there was enough distance between them before making his own way back. The noise from the stands above sharply increased, spectators cheering the players as they came off the field.
Lots of spectators only a short distance away, Snape thought. What if they had seen? The nerve of this woman...
Snape stamped back up to the castle, jerking his Slytherin scarf tight around his throat, scattering students who had oozed themselves in front of him on the way back. He constantly kept scrubbing the tasseled end of the scarf against his lips, trying to wipe away the sensation of his weakness.
As he momentarily turned his head to view the crowd filing out after him, he caught sight of Albus casually conversing with Minerva McGonagall. The two caught each other's eyes… and the apprehensive look on the elder Wizards part said it all.
~*~