Author's Note: This was written a good many years ago now; I recently found and revised it. In my mind, it takes place at some point between CoS and PoA. Enjoy.
Moments of Weakness
It was a cramped room, once furnished as extravagantly as space and meager funds would allow, but as the years added upon themselves, disenchantment with the space had grown. Though kept tidy for boarding purposes, the room had been allowed to fall into a humble and neglected condition. At a point in time long forgotten, the barely discernible flowers on the wallpaper had been vibrant and cheerful, but were now faded beyond measure and peeled where walls joined to form corners and met the sagging ceiling. Scars and scuff marks marred the slanting surface of the fine-grain oak floor, no longer privy to lovingly painstaking polishing, and dark smudges gathered on the doorjambs where greasy hands had too often thoughtlessly lingered.
The night was cool, and a damp breeze floated through the open window, dancing with the yellowed lace of moth-eaten curtains and chasing away the stale, stuffy smell that lingered long after the bar patrons below had stumbled home for the night. Shadows smothered the repressed expanse of the chamber, twirling about in a waltz well-remembered, fleeing only from the thin, curling ribbons of silver moonlight filtering into the boudoir, burning strips of argentine fire across the blemished floor.
Seated in an armchair of dried, cracking red leather, dark eyes glittered through the dense obscurity, focusing almost unseeingly on the rusted, age-old bed and its single occupant. Sprawled haphazardly across wrinkled sheets, the young woman faced away from him, the rank coverlet kicked carelessly to her waist. Silver shafts of light illuminated her sleeping figure; pale skin and tousled hair shimmered with a lustrous glow, the curve of her back accentuated by the radiance of the twisted, tinted pennants of the night. A sardonic grin crossed his shadowed features, and his hands clenched subconsciously. Despite the distance between them, the feel of her hot, silky skin still presented itself beneath his itching palms and had his blood boiling in his veins. It was a need, a constant reminder of weakness, which he abhorred.
Severus was vaguely aware of the dull ache that was beginning to throb in his temple, a result of too much alcohol and too little sleep. Never enough sleep, if he was honest with himself. The damning insomnia had led him to wander into Hogsmeade in the first place, leading him to her and indirectly bending his will before forcing the submission of many weaknesses.
The pub was noisy and crowded when he'd arrived, and he was barely able to hear himself think amidst the clattering, laughing din. It was precisely the atmosphere he'd desired in order to escape from the dismal thoughts and memories that resurfaced all too often in the cold, dank emptiness of his dungeon lair. He swiftly sought out a secluded table in a black corner, beyond the chink of glasses and merrymaking, but the deliberate sounds of vibrant life quickly surrounded and smothered him, dulling the ever-present tastes of death and destruction that lingered in his mind.
She found him there, tracing the moist circle left by his drained scotch glass on the dark wood surface of the table. "My, now don't you look lonely, honey?"
Clutching a glass tightly in a delicate porcelain hand, she slid easily into the seat next to him. He didn't need to lift his eyes to recognize the obvious femininity of the husky tones, but he couldn't tell if the soft twang was due to the barest hint of a foreign accent or the beginnings of an intoxicated slur.
Bright-eyed and brazen, she was clearly accustomed to seeking out solitary men. Signaling for another drink (scotch seemed to dull the pain of living better than any potion he could brew up) Severus observed her through sharp, acrimonious eyes. The girl was young, presumably little more than a year or two older than his seventh year students, with cheap, bold clothing that clung to exceptional curves and hair dyed a brassy platinum shade to match the quality of her attire. Full lips and high cheek bones alike exhibited the lurid coloring of bright red shades and azure liner smothered her sparkling green eyes.
"Well, sugar, don't you want any company?"
As the night dragged on, they had made small talk and lied about all aspects of their respective lives, feeding each other stories of fiction and pure fancy. It was an age-old game played well enough by those involved, but even after her chair had been shoved right up beside him and her nails began dragging lightly along his thigh, he's had no intention of completing the venture that he had unwillingly begun. Yet now, try as he might, Severus couldn't recall which of them had suggested they relocate to the dilapidated room above the pungent kitchen of the pub, but the sinking suspicion that the idea had been his hovered over him like a black cloud.
A deep scowl etched rigid, austere lines across his weary face as he recalled the emotional highs and lows of the evening. Helpless arousal and a painful, aching desire for human contact had been dangerously combined with the toxic, influential power of liquor flowing freely through his veins; from the searing flames of lust was born a raw, craving carnality, a need beyond any other that had threatened to break all firm resolutions he had ever made. Recalling the click of the tarnished bolt on the bedroom door as it slid into place, Severus knew that all of his carefully composed self-control and his iron restraint had been all too easily overcome. What remained instead were broken shards of defeated determination and the agonizing, torturous urgency to possess something more, something greater than a worthless, contemptible past and no visible future. Visions of his detestable actions floated before his eyes, and he despised himself.
Ragged breathing muffled the spirited, blithesome activity below as he dragged her body closer, crushing his lips hungrily against her own. A bestial growl rose low in his throat. Pressed tightly to his chest, she clung to him, her hands fisted in his robes as the savage onslaught against her mouth continued. He was harsh, demanding, fueled on by the dual intoxication of woman and drink. Strong hands encircled her waist, pulling her tighter as she opened to him, accepting and just as imperious as he. The warmth of her body radiated through the fabric of his clothing, enveloping him in an impassioned heat that overwhelmed his senses.
When the kiss was broken, he paused to study her face, flushed with the cheap thrills of alcohol and stimulation. What was her name? He knew she had told him, but for the life of him he couldn't recall.
Nimble fingers traced their way across his chest while he observed her, easily undoing the clasps of his robes and breaking his concentration. A heavy fog infiltrated his mind as the heavy material slipped from his shoulders in a careless rustle, sending his eyes spiraling into an unfocused world of shadowed blurs. A wry, devious grin stretched her bruised lips, and she deliberately thrust her hips forward, creating an excruciatingly unbearable friction against his already throbbing groin. Control faltered for a brief moment as he strained toward her, a breathless shudder rippling through his body. But when seeking hands met with the full, soft warmth of her breasts, the effeminately amused, self-satisfied smile quickly dissolved, giving way instead to urgent yearning and eliciting a low murmur of pleasure.
With animalistic possessiveness, Severus swept her into his arms and crossed the distance to the rusted bed in two long strides; the iron framework screeched in protest as he unceremoniously deposited her on the sagging mattress. She tumbled gracelessly and without any of the gentleness deserving of a lady. After the initial shock, she struggling to her knees; catching him about the wrist, she linked an arm around his neck and forcefully hauled him onto the bed with her.
Dusky green eyes, alight with a charmingly endearing mirth, locked with hardened ebony ones as full, swollen lips brushed against his in a gentle, calming caress. Soothing fingers traced the lines of his face, followed the curve of his neck, memorized the hollow at the base of his throat, and lingered on his protruding collarbones. Scattered thoughts fled his mind as the barest touch burned a fiery, ardent path along his skin and left him wanting anything and everything all in an instant. Subconsciously, he knew he was fighting a battle that could not be won; for this one moment in time, he would allow surrender to be pulled from his grasp.
This affirmation gave rise to a hungry, fervent inferno set ablaze within him; it ate away at morality and dignity as mouths once more fused together. Clothing was steadily, carelessly deposited on the floor with each new probing exploration, allowing skin to slide recklessly against skin. His greedy, hot mouth replaced kneading hands on her breasts, ripping a startled, throaty cry from her. She pushed against him, demanding more as teeth grazed mercilessly over a hardened nipple, and was soon pacified with an agonizingly slow stroke of his tongue. Her body writhed and twisted beneath his own nakedness; the stimulation proved too much for his underutilized body, and he pulled away abruptly with a sharp, hissing exhale.
His highly receptive nerve endings, however, would have no rest. The scowl that arose at her indolently languid smile swiftly evaporated, giving way to a series of shuddering sighs and barely repressed whimpers as nails painted a poisonous orange glided down his bare chest, pausing briefly before sweeping repeatedly in a horizontal half-moon beneath his navel. Severus' breath exploded when her lips followed the same path, forcing a strangled groan to escape him as a hot, wet warmth enveloped his aching hardness. The forbidden fire of her ruthless mouth tugged gently with each upstroke and nipped at the sensitized tip, coercing a succession of sobbing moans and keening whimpers from him. Quivering uncontrollably with the exquisite sensations, he was driven toward the brink of insanity and back. Stray tears leaked from the corners of his tightly clenched eyes as he clawed at the sheets beneath him, begging for release.
Severus' brow knitted together, a frown forming through the darkness of the room as the memory of their entwined bodies flashed before his narrowed eyes. Yes, he'd had his release, but at what cost? Across the chamber the young wench turned in her sleep, affording him a view of her bare breasts glimmering silver in the moonlight. She was a reminder of his humanity – emotions, needs, desires, and weaknesses deliberately buried deep within himself. A reminder of faltering strength and a will too easily broken. Vulnerabilities still lingered in his character, paralyzing fears infiltrated his mind, desire and want surpassed cold rationality. They were traits held contemptible by Severus, viewed as personal flaws that gave cause for the birth of a bitter self-hatred. Yet it was the moments of weakness he found the most fault with; they lent proof to the fact that, above all else, he was first a man, capable of mistakes deemed unacceptable and unforgivable.
Rising from the chair, he fought off the stiffness that had formed in his joints and crossed to the bed on silent feet, black robes melding behind him with the inky surroundings. Placing a small pouch filled with coins in the crook of the girl's arm, he stared down at her for a few moments, gently soothing matted hair back from the cool skin of her forehead. After all, what was one final act of weakness following such a night of travesties?
"Goodnight, Delilah."
As the door closed with a barely audible snap behind him, Delilah stirred and shivered in the cool breeze blowing lightly across her naked skin. A hand stretched toward the vacated place beside her on the bed, searching for the warm remains of the fire that had raged between them, but met only with the soft suede of the coin purse.