A/N: This was meant to be a Snape/Sinistra drabble, lmao. I took it wayyyy too far.
Dinner Date.
He couldn't quite believe that he had agreed to this.
Dinner. She was making him dinner.
Food had always been a means to an end, a quick scoffing of just enough food in order to sustain him for a few more hours of work, or concentration, or both.
Severus had never been a culinary aficionado. Brought up practically in squalor in the working-class North West didn't give much rise for savouring delectables… he was lucky if he sat down to bread that hadn't been crusted and staled by time, let alone spices and herbs and other sprinkles of completely superfluous flavouring methods. This was a trend that he carried with him into his school days at Hogwarts - gnawing on meat and vegetables, feeling simply glad that they didn't taste decayed and fusty in his mouth before scurrying off the common room or the library to work on his inventions. This carried on still when he was taken on as a teacher, with the exception of the inventions and the addition of tedious marking and lesson planning.
There simply was no need, no time, to enjoy nourishment required for pure homeostasis.
He knew Sinistra's tastes… vastly differed. She, too, had been brought up amongst poverty and receiving only the bare necessities much like him; it was possibly, no definitely, worse in her situation, in fact. But he could safely make the assertion that cuisine in West Africa differed quite drastically to that of Cokeworth.
This nervousness was nothing in comparison to the mere fact that she had asked him to come around for dinner to eat something she had cooked especially for him.
As if it were some sort of… god forbid… date or something.
What do we need to do this for? He asked himself bitterly as he stood in front of his bedroom mirror on that fateful rainy Friday night. We eat perfectly well together every night in the company of others. We've eaten by ourselves before, both in our quarters and outside of the castle, why do I feel so nervous at the prospect of her actually creating something for me, solely?
Severus tugged at his collar and mentally chastised himself when he subconsciously ran his fingers through his hair to at least try to attempt to make it look more presentable.
Get a grip, Severus. If she hasn't run screaming from the sight of you in the four years you've been seeing each other on the sly, she isn't going to do it tonight just because you haven't brushed your hair.
It was ten to seven when he tentatively poked his out of the door of his quarters: his eyes scanning the torchlit, cold and dark stone corridor to and fro, left and right, right and left, and again, completely ready to be caught by someone. He quickly straightened his robes and cloak and stalked off into the darkness, swallowed up the shade and an ever-rising feeling of panic.
Aurora's quarters were quite a distance from his own – he knew he should have set off earlier instead of gaping at his abominable form in the mirror for what felt like centuries. He reached the fifth floor slightly out of breath and had to spend a few minutes pacing slowly up and down the piece of corridor which contained her sleeping quarters before mustering up his resolve and knocking on the door.
It took a while for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting behind her when Professor Sinistra opened the doors, her form was backlit with the glimmer of candlelight… and while candlelight was a very common source of illumination within Hogwarts walls, the fact that it was radiating from her rooms made his hair stand rather unexpectedly on end.
"Oh, it's you" she said. As if this dinner that he had been fretting about for days had momentarily slipped her mind. Like he had come to her with an unexpected request to substitute his classes or something. Snape frowned in indignation.
"Whom else were you expecting?" he said sharply, perhaps a bit accusatory.
Sinistra side-stepped out of the way and allowed him to pass over the threshold. "Sadly, you are the only brave soul I've ever managed to convince to try my cooking" she quipped behind him before clicking the door shut; Severus experienced a momentary feeling of cold dread at being shut in.
A peculiar aroma snaked up his sinuses the moment the entered the dim lounge room of hers, decorated with walls of equations, low-slung couches, many different coloured lamps and piles upon piles of parchment and maps on her many desks - all scribbled over so frequently that they were blanketed by splotches of ink. A fire crackled near the two couches ahead of him. The scent about the room was nothing like that of the dinners served in the Great Hall… it was full of spice and colour. He wondered wildly just how much his unworldly tongue would be able to tolerate of it.
The alarming thought was only broken the alarming realisation that she had been standing there, looking at him at the entire time, waiting for god knows what… his mouth was suddenly feeling unbearably dry. He looked her up and down.
"You look… nice," was what Snape stupidly settled for.
"I look the same as I always look."
"Well - quite."
Firmly feeling like a prime idiot, and prickly that she always had to make everything so bloody difficult, Severus allowed himself to shrug off his cloak where he whirled around the back of one of her couches. Sinistra had returned to busying herself with the large pot behind them, she was dropping a few more pieces of what looked like fish into the stew.
"I've never known you to cook anything before, Borealis," Severus said curiously, insentiently fiddling with the buttons on his sleeve.
Aurora didn't look back but continued stir the stew, stopping briefly to touch some of it to her lips.
"I haven't had much cause to," she replied. "Being fed all of that stodgy British mush in my ten years of service to this castle… bit bland for my taste, to say the least."
I am going to die. Thought Severus.
The thought was interrupted by being torpedoed with a lightly battered ball of dough. He barely managed to catch it in time and fumbled with it before grasping it in his hands.
"Try some of that," Aurora commanded, and her back was already turned away from him again.
"I mean, you could have just passed it to me instead of trying to behead me with it!" he blinked furiously, popping the dough in his mouth angrily before he even considered what might be in it. He felt slightly annoyed that it tasted rather good… it was exactly like hot bread - only compact, crispy on the outer coating and pillowy inside.
Aurora smirked wickedly. "Just be glad I haven't had cause to throw the pot of stew at you yet. Thoughts, Gitface?"
Snape swallowed the rest of the ball.
"Not bad," he conceded. "What is it?"
Aurora had began dishing out the stew into two bowls and flicked her wand to extinguish the flames underneath the antiquated cast iron stove.
"Puff Puff. Fried wheat bread - very popular back home. Sit." She gestured to the table, where everything had now been set out, Puff Puffs and all.
Severus sat, eyeing the next part of the meal with extreme suspicion. When Aurora took the seat opposite him she couldn't help but flash a grin.
"It's called Nkatenkwen. A dish from my hometown. And it's not spiked, you know."
He lowered his spoon and squinted at her.
"Well that certainly fills me with confidence, Aurora, thank you."
"You know I can barely look at a cauldron without feeling like my heart is being ripped out of my chest - let alone concoct anything."
Severus said nothing but let it rest. His eyes were trained on her now, ensuring that she was not just about to wander down a dark alley littered with less-than-favourable memories in her mind… because then he would need to change his tactic altogether. Comforting her, anyone, was not something that came naturally to him, and so took Severus far more time to plan.
Fortunately, she was still smiling. He breathed an inner sigh of relief and allowed the spoon full of fishy stew into his mouth.
At first it wasn't so bad. He had certainly eaten fish, after all, and the initial pang on his palate was not unlike something he'd eat of out of a rolled up piece of newspaper back in Spinner's End. He had also eaten a lot of stew over the years. The two combined surely…
Ah, there we go…
"Call me clinically insane or whatever you like - but I have missed you," he heard Borealis murmur from the other side of the table as she scoffed down the meal as if it were nothing more than a ham sandwich. "I hope Dumbledore realises how good he has it with you: you willingly giving up your evenings for that Potter boy. Personally, if it were me I'd tell him to go and kindly fuck himself but there you have it." She shrugged.
Severus was barely registering what she was saying due to the ever-increasing feeling that someone had thrown a lit match into his mouth. He spluttered into his palm as subtly as he could possibly manage.
"Well – you… always did have far less tact with the Headmaster than myself," he coughed, reaching for his goblet, which he was pleased to find was a spiced iced tea with subtle pomegranate notes. Far gentler than the 'End of Days In a Bowl' she had created.
"Is he as good as me, the Potter brat?" Aurora asked slyly, already quarter-finished with her meal. "Or have you opted to mentally wipe out the good old days when you used to break into my mind in order to train me to lie about our relationship to the outside world?"
Snape snorted to spite himself, concurrently feeling an extra ten or so beads of sweat on his forehead the more he ate of her death stew.
"You were far more… pleasurable to work with, I can assure you."
"… Didn't particularly answer my question, but I can settle for pleasurable." Sinistra smirked teasingly. The end of a boot snaked up his inner calf. "At least I hope you won't see the same things in Potter's mind as you did mine. Was it odd to see yourself making love to me in my memories? Seeing the look on your own face? Though I suppose it's no different than looking in a mirror, really, if one was that much of an exhibitionist."
The avenue of conversation was doing nothing to stem the flow of sweat, or rising heat in his cheeks. At least he could have blamed his blushing on the Nkatenkwen.
Oh, yes it had been odd. It had been excruciatingly odd. It of course had been utterly horrific to see himself on top of her - covered by their bed sheets or not – that he had almost vomited at the sight of it. And to this day he questioned just what on Merlin's earth possessed the exceptionally striking Astronomy professor to want to touch his pallid, gaunt, sickly looking body in that manner. None of it made sense. Seeing her memories of their intimacy for himself cemented the fact that it didn't make sense.
But this was merely a secondary thought, a subordinate second runner to the feelings he had experienced radiating from her as she draped her arms around his bare shoulders, and held him close and rocked with him. He, whilst in Sinistra's head, had felt nothing but pure contentment. No "what the fuck am I doing with this unpleasant, ugly human being", no revulsion, not even a lingering sliver of doubt in her mind… she was merely happy to be there with him, naked with him, removing all threads of self-consciousness with him.
Severus had broken the contact in his bewilderment. It was the oddest thing he had ever experienced, stepping inside another's mind and visions and knowing, just knowing without a doubt that you were loved.
He couldn't look at her for the rest of their lessons. The implications and the likelihood of complete desolation had been too much to bear…
Of course, Snape did not tell the woman currently sitting across from him determinedly stroking his leg from the ankle to the knee with her boot this. His lip curled through his coughs.
"Yes. The sight of… it all, was odd. Nor did I expect it. I never thought you of all people would be such an overly sentimental and mawkish fool."
"Ah, well," she nodded and raised a glass to him, conceding. "Maybe I chose to show you those memories to scar you for life. You know how I adore making my marks on you."
It was all too true and all too false at the same time. He struggled through another spoonful. He couldn't contain his gasp for fresh, cool air this time, and even though he tried to hide it by taking another long swig of the iced tea Severus knew that comprehension was dawning upon her… damn it, why did she have to be so perceptive when it came to sifting through every corner of him.
She was smiling now, with an air of someone having to deal with a particularly fussy toddler.
"You don't have to finish it, Severus."
Snape dropped the spoon immediately and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Thank god…" he whispered underneath his breath, then said louder: "well thank you for that… unique experience, Borealis. I shan't forget your West African cuisine in a hurry."
Sinistra chuckled to herself and rose from the table, waving his insistence to help her clean up away.
"I can do it after," she said. A millisecond later she had plonked herself on top of him. He didn't even know it had happened at first but… there she was… just sitting facing him with her belly pressed against his chest and her arms draped over his shoulder blades.
"You didn't need to branch out into catering to lure me here, you know," Severus explained simply, glancing up at her insufferably bemused expression looking over him and frowning.
Aurora sniffed amusedly and he jolted when she raised herself up slightly and began to hitch up her dress, her legs… those dark and powerful implements that so oft carried her up and down the endless flights of stairs to her Tower… those legs had risen up off the ground and placed his shaking thighs in a vice grip.
"Well if you weren't going to enjoy my self-sacrificing projects, at least you suffered for me…" she purred into his ear, hidden by a cloak of stringy, greasy night. "You know how much it pleases me when you suffer for my pleasure."
Severus allowed his head to be tilted backward by her forceful neck muscles. She was a fucking tigress. A power radiated from her that could do nothing else but make him beg to be devoured by it, but at the same time he was too proud, too stubborn to give himself up so freely. It had been a relentless battle of wills between them for many, many years.
"How are you feeling from it all?" Sinistra whispered so softly he almost felt caressed by it.
"From what?"
"From being forced to live through someone else's mind for weeks on end, what do you think?" she huffed, nibbing at what miniscule part of neck flesh she could pinch with her tiger teeth.
Severus swallowed, quite painfully aware of just how much he was perspiring in the heat and fire and flesh, he didn't even want to think on how he tasted to her. That question, though. That question. It was something no one had ever thought to ask of him before… he was just expected to follow through on orders, he had been his entire life, from everyone who had needed his assistance or his counsel. Nothing more than a pre-programmed shard of flint, really, ready for their bidding.
How are you feeling? She had asked. Severus wasn't quite sure he wanted to evaluate such things… but the fact remained that she had asked.
"You experienced it for weeks," he reminded her softly, his eyes still fixated upon her high and arched ceilings. "You know what it feels like."
Their mouths brushed together with such lightness that they were barely there. "I know what it feels like, certainly," she agreed. "You put me through hell dragging up those memories and thoughts of mine. I had no energy for anything else other than to weep on your bedroom floor."
"I remember," Severus replied darkly. He didn't quite enjoy being reminded that he was solely to blame for a resurgence of her nightmares about her mother's death, about the years of loneliness she had experienced moving to Hogwarts, unable to connect with a single soul because no body had seen that horrors that she had.
Still… it had helped in the long run. Aurora was now a fully fledged Occlumens herself, and it had served them both very well indeed in their mission to keep their particular relationship cloaked from the wizarding world, cloaked but most importantly safe, where he needed it to be.
"It's…" he started. "It's a necessity. It will get worse before it gets better. You know that."
"You're talking from the student's perspective, not yours: I don't give a shit about what the Potter boy is going through" Sinistra interjected, running a small hand through his hair and igniting the nerves upon his scalp. Oh god, no, she was beginning to rock against him now… soon he would very well be rendered incapable of holding any sort of coherent conversation.
"Since when have you become so touchingly concerned with my perspective?" he asked teasingly, ensuring that he was able to spit it out before he couldn't string any words together anymore.
Her kiss was so fiercely brutal that it removed any shred of doubt. Nothing needed to be said from her. Words would never match that kind of thing.
"Since I fucking love you, you idiotic arse." Sinistra bit through her raids of lip lesions.
Ah, but of course she was still going to try and match herself. Of course. Of course.
Severus decided he wasn't going to answer her, well, it wasn't a choice so much as it was an inescapable inevitability. After a few moments of leaning right back into his chair, pushing her mouth away from his collar and his lips and oh fuck his neck – his body had finally triumphed over the battle with his nervous and self-conscious mind and soon he was moving against her just as fiercely. Kissing her everything just as fiercely, everything belonging to her that he could get hold of. His hips were reflexively rocking with hers as she nestled into him… god her spicy scent was heaven on earth… god she was beautiful and what was he? "I fucking love you"? What on earth could Aurora Sinistra possibly 'fucking love'?
His insecurities had riddled their way back into his synapses and his body was losing now, albeit giving a hearty cry of protest on the way. He didn't need to explain himself, however, because Aurora had unexpectedly stopped mid-rock, too.
"Oh, shit," she said. "Shit!"
She practically leapt off him and was whirling one of her thick black cloaks around her person. Severus realised far too late that he was still sitting with his head resting right back on the chair, and so was still gaping at her upside-down, like some dim-witted, gawking moron. He quickly pushed himself up and rearranged himself into a more respectable and dignified position.
"Forget something on the stove? Is that would I could smell?" Severus teased, his lip curling as he commended buttoning himself back in again.
"What? Oh shut-up," Aurora snapped absent-mindedly as she fumbled around the table for her wand. She pocketed it and stalked over to her door.
"I forgot it was Astronomy Club night, didn't I!" she finally explained, sounding utterly incensed and exasperated. "They'll be waiting for me to open the bloody tower and seeing as I'm already fifteen minutes late, I'm guessing a Prefect would be on their way to my rooms."
This was not the news that Severus wanted to hear at all. He didn't fancy being forced to hide in cupboard upon hearing a knock at the door from a well-meaning yet gallingly intrusive Prefect. Sinistra had already thrown open the door and had turned back to him.
"Wait for me, would you? And," she added, with a wicked grin "thanks for the suffering in my honour, Gitface. It was a pleasure to feel you squirm."
And she was gone with a swish of robes and clacking of boot.
Snape glowered, feeling prickles of irritation build up in his belly again. He hated it when she left him no room to get the last word in, more to the point he wasn't quite sure if she was referring to her food or the intolerable corporeal contact between them.
Well, either way, he thought, there is no way in all hell that I am just going to sit here waiting for her to return like her lost little puppy dog. Two can play at this game, Borealis.
Severus drew his cloak back on, and was halfway to the door before he stopped mid-step, spotting the pile of miniature bread balls languishing in a bowl on the table.
He gave a surreptitious sneer before he snatched the entire bowl and stalked back to his own quarters, snacking on a Puff Puff every few minutes - a triumphant smirk playing upon his face.