Chapter 2: Lust
My dreams that night took on new levels of infliction.
It started with voices. No matter how hard I squinted my eyes in search of light, there was only perpetual darkness. The voices spoke a language that my ears did not understand, but my body did. It felt warm and heavy.
Then a light flashed on, and I realised it was not the darkness of night that had plagued me, but the black cloth of a robe strewn over my head. There was a man before me. I did not know who it was, for he stood in the shadows. The light was swinging back and forth, blinding me one moment and leaving me alone the next. But him. He stood just under the light, yet somehow still amongst the darkness.
I knew it was him. I could feel his words sting, even as he stood in silence. I reached out, but my arm passed straight through him. There was a laugh from somewhere out of sight. And then he was over me and on me and through me; and I felt the pain of being ripped open from the inside out.
I woke up sweaty, on the verge of screaming, and nestled myself in under the covers for protection. I knew it was him. I just knew it.
"Leave me alone, Snape," I whispered, knowing he would not hear me, but hoping he would nonetheless.
I looked at the time. It was too early for breakfast, but just late enough to not be rude.
Jumping out of bed, I rummaged through my belongings and pulled out the necessities: school uniform, bra, mascara, and deodorant. I hurried through my morning routine, hoping to beat the rush to breakfast.
Jog-walking through the hallway, taking a few wrong turns along the way, I somehow found myself standing before an elaborately designed door in the dungeons. Although I had occasionally had to bother McGonagall in her personal quarters for various school-related issues, I had never seen the necessity in disturbing Professor Snape. Being a female student at the door of a male professor, I felt a sting of guilt and indecency.
But some things simply weren't appropriate for class time.
I rose my arm to knock, but the door swung open before I did. Snape's face contorted into a look of curiosity and uncertainty.
"Sorry to bother you," I heard myself whisper. "I just need to speak with you."
His expression did not change.
"Sir," I added.
"I haven't finished marking the essays, Miss Granger," he said.
"No," I said, "that's not my concern."
"Do you understand how incredibly inappropriate it is to call upon a teacher at his personal chambers?"
"McGonagall lets me do it all the time."
"McGonagall," he said, "will be called out on it."
"Please, sir," I begged, placing my hand out onto the edge of the door so that he could not close it.
Snape looked at my hand and back at me, moving his eyes to and fro until I removed the hand from his space.
We stood, quietly, until I realised he was not about to let me in.
"I know you've always kept an extra eye out for me," I said, ignoring his expression of denial, "but lately I feel like I'm all you watch."
I lowered my head, finding myself unable to look at him.
"And you came to my personal chambers to tell me I'm getting too…personal?" he asked.
I cleared my throat.
"It's making me uncomfortable."
I looked at him then. His face exuberated disinterest, but his eyes were emblazoned with hunger. I hardened my own face and leaned into him, closing the space between us, trying to intimidate him as best I could with what little I had. He stayed put, but tensed up as I came closer.
"Why don't you just go to Dumbledore?" he asked.
Something inside me jumped as though he had hit an unexpected key.
"My issue isn't with the Headmaster," I said.
"Or perhaps," he said disdainfully, "you like the attention."
My eyes widened in alarm: not so much because of what he was insinuating, but because he was right. He leaned in the rest of the way between us and kissed me. It was a bold move, but one that I accepted wholeheartedly.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and he wrapped his around my waist. Our bodies stayed motionless, but our lips were vigorous in their rush. It felt as though I had been taken over, my will shoved far in the back recesses of my mind. Snape pulled me inside his chambers, away from prying eyes.
It wasn't at all romantic. There was nothing but a physical need involved, and it overwhelmed any reason or intellect. I didn't know what I was doing; I fumbled with the buttons that lined his shirt, hoping I wasn't making a complete fool of myself. I pulled off the shirt and made to unbutton my own when something caught my eye.
I pushed away from him then, uncertain how to proceed.
"Your arms," I said at last.
His expression hardened.
"I know those markings," I said, almost in tears.
Snape jumped back from me suddenly, anger flaring in his eyes.
"You know nothing," he said bitterly.
He snatched his shirt from the floor and dressed quickly.
"Please," I said, grabbing a hold of him, trying to pull him near. He pushed me back; my body hit hard against the floor beneath me.
"Get out," he said.
I stayed.
But Snape was not in the mood for games. He picked me up by my shoulder blade, nails digging into my skin, and threw me out into the hall.
"You have an answer for everything, yet know nothing," he said.
With that, he slammed the door, leaving me to crimple over and cry. Alone.
