A/N: Here's a short little drabble about Sev and Bella. Hope you guys enjoy!
They are different as night and day, bound together by a man to whom they both pledged allegiance. He draws them close to one another and yet pulls them apart all at the same time, toying with them like a cat does a mouse.
And they both hate it.
It is because of him that she appears at a fellow Death Eater's house, standing out against the dreary gray of a harsh winter day. He opens the door without a word, invites her in, and she stands in the sitting room for only a couple moments before making herself at home on the little sofa there. He follows her and takes the armchair, looking every bit a king here in his own domain.
The morning edition of the paper sits on the coffee table between them, a fire burns in the grate, casting half of each face into shadow. Outside, the wind howls as it chases the snow that falls in sheets. It is all they hear, with the exception of the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the mantle, for several minutes.
"He says I can't have what I want because of you. You're in the way." She stares straight at him as she speaks, almost daring him to contradict her.
"And what is it that you want, Bella? Power? Or the Dark Lord himself?" And he sits calmly, fingers steeped, meeting her gaze. He sees images there, sees as she remembers days from so many years ago.
They sit in this very same room, in the very same spots. There is no fire, no candle, no light, only the dimness that comes to a house with all the curtains drawn. They both look angry, at each other, the world, everyone and nobody, all at once. It's that anger that has brought them together, because there's nothing else that could connect two people like them. She is royal, haughty, and unafraid to brandish her blade and charge straight into the fray of a battle. He is what she considers scum, a half-bred, lucky to still be alive, but he is intelligent. He is the one who sneaks in the midst, taking out more men than he can count by striking when he is least expected.
Maybe that's the key to what happened.
Neither can recall who made the first move or if they made at the same time, they only remember what it felt like. They remember that heady rush of being flesh to flesh, the primal need. She remembers teeth grazing her neck, tongue exploring her mouth, strong hands holding her hips. He remembers hands fluttering quickly all around, the little gasp of surprise as he buried himself inside her, nails digging into him with pleas for more.
He knows that she remembers, but she has never been apt enough at legilimency to push past his blocks, and so she sits there wondering.
"Maybe I want both, Snape." She twirls a loose strand of hair around her fingers.
"How do you intend to get them?"
She doesn't answer, but stands up instead, and he joins her on his feet. She glides toward him, stopping as close to him as she can get, and he reaches out with his left to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. She closes her eyes, leaning forward, and feels her breath hitch as she is spun around suddenly. He holds her against him so closely that she doubts anything could get between them, his hands clasped together just under her chest, although he has her arms pinned under his. His breath his hot on her ear, making her shiver.
"Find another way."
His voice, soft and low, sends a wave of desire through her. She closes her eyes, and as she does, she pictures what could have been if she hadn't let him go so many years ago.