Control. It was what drew her eyes to him more often than they should. An air of disinterest in other people's opinions of him. She, who was always acutely aware of how others perceived her, admired his ability to show little reaction to the controlled chaos of the castle and the fear, awe or admiration directed towards him by its inhabitants. Well, not quite disinterest, she mused as she sat in a darkened corner of the staff room surreptitiously watching him have a quiet conversation on upcoming curriculum changes with Professor Sinistra. It seemed more like a precise facade he placed himself comfortably behind. A cool barricade. Sitting before the fire and sipping brandy, she could almost believe he was perfectly relaxed and oblivious to the other conversations bubbling throughout the room. He certainly seemed unaware of her regard. But, she knew better. Maybe he truly was comfortable in these surroundings but he was always aware of everything around him. She mustn't flatter herself that he was aware of her in the same manner as she was of him. No, it was just that his mind seemed to fluidly function on multiple levels at once. Almost subconsciously. Surely, a product of untold years spying. No more than that. An innate survival reflex perfected to an art form.
She pondered other things that set him apart. The ease and grace with which he moved. The astounding depths of his knowledge. The palpable feel of his magic. The power seemed to radiate from him now as it never had before. Firmly ensconced again as Headmaster and with his former masters dead, he was the most powerful wizard in Britain, if not the world. And to control that power so effortlessly, she marveled at it. In comparison, when she was upset her hair still sparked and snapped with energy. Yes, she was a formidable, brilliant witch, no doubt. But, complete mastery of one's own power... She had never experienced someone with his control. His magnetism.
She was concerned at her inability to stop being hyper aware of him. But, he was mesmerizing. Fascinating. Alluring almost. What would it be like, she wondered, to talk to him in some distant locale unencumbered by their pasts, other's expectations and perceived roles? What would it feel like to illicit an uncontrolled reaction from him - a smile, a laugh? Maybe something more. Why did she feel so secure and comforted in his presence, though always in a group and never his sole focus? Why did she simultaneously crave his full attention and feel nervous and light-headed at the thought of attaining it?
High pitched laughs from Flitwick and Pomona enjoying a light hearted game of chess pulled her from her thoughts. The time to stop obsessing over this man was past. She really wasn't sure when exactly it began during the last year but she knew it was not a productive path to follow. Whatever it was he desired in a friend, companion, mate - if he desired one at all - it surely wasn't any quality that she possessed. He was cordial to her, polite, even gracious on occasion. But, she never felt as if she were anything more or less than one of the many professors under his management and care. And it frightened her to realize how much she nursed a desire to be remarkable to him, unique and irreplaceable.
Flustered by her own thoughts, dismayed at the strength of her attraction and embarrassed at how absurdly unlikely any reciprocation on his part was, she quietly gathered her papers and made her way to the staff door without being noticed.
Or so she thought. An impossibly black pair of eyes watched her slip out as his fingers unconsciously stroked the worn, leather arm of the chair and he let out a small sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh.
"Severus?," Sinistra asked noticing this small disengagement from their conversation.
He nodded his head and made his apologies for retiring early pleading exhaustion. He bid goodnight to those in the room before departing. As he shut the door behind him, he caught a faint scent of her. Lime and basil and something more. He couldn't quite suss it out. But, he would. He would know her secrets, her likes, her random thoughts, the feel of her hair against his bare skin, the color of her eyes in the first light of dawn. Eventually and inevitably, her incorrigible curiosity and this as yet unnamed pull would draw them together. Regretfully, he turned and walked away in the opposite direction of her route. Yes, he would exercise control and patience a while longer. All things in good time.