Beautiful Stranger

Snape had almost drifted off to sleep when he heard a voice coming from somewhere close. It sounded like a woman's voice just outside his door, but when he looked, no one was there. He carefully surveyed the shadows of the dimly lit room. Hearing the noise again, he silently walked to the bedroom. Quietly cracking open the door, he peered into the room as he listened intently, hoping to find the source of the detached voice. Finding nothing out of sorts, he dismissed it from his mind and returned to his chair.

Exhaling a loud breath, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, welcoming the solitude of his quarters. A loud jingling of something metal on marble startled him to attention. Standing, he readied his wand and crept in the direction of the sound. Coming from his bathroom was a noise that sounded like the panting of a rabid animal. Certainly in no mood for intruders, he stopped at the closed door, ready to cast the killing curse to eliminate the culprit.

Gripping his wand, he sucked in a deep breath and carefully pulled open the heavy arched door, triggering it to creek loudly on its hinges. The room was pitch black dark and he quickly realized the sounds were not of an animal, but were the whimpers of a woman in distress. Her breathing was erratic and audibly echoing endlessly in the enormous bathroom.

"Lumos!" He commanded, causing the tip of his wand to emit a faint, blue glow. There was just enough light to see a young woman on her hands and knees, frantically scrambling for a set of keys on the floor. Her breathing was erratic as she began to hyperventilate and speak at the same time.

"D-don't sh-sh shoot!" She managed. Her chest was heaving with panic as she raised her hands over her head.

"P- Please, mistah! D-Don't k-kill me w-with that thing!" She begged, lowering her face and squeezing her eyes together, as if waiting on him to pull the trigger of a loaded gun.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded to know. His voice dominated the room as it resonated within the stone walls of the massive bathroom. He continued to point the illuminated tip of his wand toward her as his dark, black eyes flashed authoritatively.

She shuddered in the quake of his commanding voice, and shrank in the presence of his tall, cloaked, sinister stature moving closer to her. Afraid for her life, she tried to stand, but fainted, striking her head on the marble floor. He lunged to grab her, but was too late to catch her.

Bringing the torches to life, he flipped the young woman onto her back, and sat next to her, easing her head onto his lap. He closed her wound effortlessly with a flick of his wand, and pushed her bloody hair away from her face. After conjuring a washcloth full of water, he gently dabbed the blood and grit away from her features while looking for any clues as to who or what she could be.

He studied the chiseled line of her jaw, her straight nose, and the curves of her rose-blushed lips. The creases of her mouth naturally turned up, giving her a devilishly unspoiled look. Noticing his pale, white hands on her darkened skin, he carefully eased her head from his lap to the floor. She had a bronze glow, as though she had selectively exposed herself to the sun.

Although he was taken with her wholesome appearance, he was dumbfounded by the romantic stirrings within him. What the hell? No, no, no. This is not the time...

There had to be a reason for her presence in his bathroom. Perhaps she was a werewolf, waking up after a night of feeding and slaughtering. Considering the possibility, he knelt beside her and hovered over her to look for clues. Her fingernails were clean with no signs of blood or murder, and her face was unsoiled. Turning his head slightly, he leaned his nose close to her mouth to smell her breath. Expecting the stench of old blood, he lightly sniffed, but was greeted with the refreshing aroma of peppermint. He lingered close to her lips, taking in the minty essence of her breathing as he watched her chest rise and fall. I could kiss her, he thought, but closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to feel her breath on his lips.

An unexpected pang of concern ran through him when he realized she did not belong in the magic world, whatsoever. Her clothes were soiled and bloody, but he could easily see they were strictly Muggle. Her bag bore the crest of an old man with white hair, a mustache and a beard. It appeared his name was Ole Miss. She had on jeans that were curiously ripped and frayed at the knee. Her worn, untied sneakers were light blue and she wore a frayed, white t-shirt with the same crest as her bag. He felt a strange empathy for the young woman in that he had grown up wearing second hand clothing, as well. Dismissing the possibility of her being a vagrant, he could not help himself from giving in to his heightening curiosity.

"Who are you?" He whispered, still kneeling beside her.

Lying next to her on the floor was a small leather book with a latch on it. He picked it up with one hand and studied it momentarily. Clicking the latch, he thought it was a diary, but it did not open. He placed it back into her bag and picked up her keys, taking notice of the bottle opener hanging from the ring. They jingled, hitting the solid floor, as he accidentally dropped them, and glanced at her to make sure the sound did not wake her.

Sliding his hand quietly back into her bag, he found her wallet. He unsnapped it and flipped through her small file of a twenty dollar bill, a checkbook, a receipt for gasoline, and a plastic divider full of small pictures. He pulled out a card that read Mississippi Driver License across the top. In the left hand corner was a very unattractive picture of a beautiful, frowning young woman who had apparently not been ready when the camera was snapped. She stirred before he could read all of her information and he quickly replaced the card in its slot, and dropped the wallet back into the bag.

He could not explain the elation he suddenly felt when looking at her. A feeling of liberation and euphoria swept over him as he considered her alluringly helpless form lying on the bathroom floor. He had already lost everything a wizard could lose, including his dignity, but a mystifying feeling of hope overpowered him. His mortal enemy was dead and the chains of being a double agent were broken, and he had a beautiful stranger at his mercy. Smiling to himself, he welcomed this new mystery with intrigue, willingness, and near obsession. Assigning himself the role of her protector, he decided to tell no one about her presence until he was certain it was safe to do so.

Sliding his hands under her legs and shoulders, he lifted her and briefly admired her face. "I will take care of you, my beautiful stranger," he whispered on her cheek.

Careful to not wake her, he mustered the last of his strength to bend and place her on the sofa in the sitting room. Stretching his back, he watched her roll over onto her left side, thankfully not waking up. He gazed at her vulnerable shape as she slept.

"Who are you?" He asked aloud in his softest voice, secretly enjoying the thrill of having her at his mercy.

Snape retrieved her bag from the bathroom with the intention of further investigating its contents, but was certain she would wake as he rifled through her personal things. Placing the bag quietly on the floor, he covered her with an afghan and plopped down on the cushy chair across from her. Knowing full well that she was harmless, he was comfortable in her presence, and enjoyed the peaceful sounds of her slumber. Crossing his boots on the coffee table, he fixed his eyes on her and guarded her sleep until his own eyes closed.

Chapter End Notes:

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