Chapter 4: Any Excuse

Disclaimer: We don't own any of these people or places. We can't really even claim to own the plot, as there isn't really one to own!

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It was a week before Christmas and the penultimate day of Florence's first term teaching at Hogwarts. She sat in the staff room, her stomach full to the brim with mince pies. The lights were dim and the atmosphere friendly. Even Severus' presence was not bothering her, as she sat marking 6th year papers about the Fidelus charm.

There was amicable chatter between Professors Hooch and McGonagall about the Quidditch Cup; Dumbledore was talking with Filbert Flitwick about the pros and cons of a new form of Banishing Charm compared with the one more traditional taught at Hogwarts. Florence let the voices wash over her, not really listening. Madam Pomfrey stopped by briefly to ask Professor Sprout about the availability of some plant or another before saying "I really must get back to the hospital wing, one of the 1st years decided to take a bit of a swim in the lake and caught a terrible chill". Dumbledore made his apologies to the diminutive Professor Flitwick ("I appear to have left some cake out in the rain!") and followed her out, pecking her on the cheek under the mistletoe by the door and making her giggle.

Florence checked her watch; it was already ten o-clock. She yawned but continued to mark. Flitwick decided to squeak his good-buys and call it a night. He stretched for the door handle and shut it quietly behind him. Minerva topped up everyone's cups with fresh coffee. "How are you enjoying your first assignment?" She asked Florence pleasantly.

"It's fantastic, the kids are really great. I've got a lot more enjoyment out of it than I thought." Florence answered honestly. She glanced up and saw Snape looking at her through narrowed eyes. She mocked his face, giving him the same look only exaggerated. Minerva chuckled.

"That's good to know, you usually find people think their first post is either very enjoyable or a real struggle. I thought I would find teaching easy, but it's the most challenging part of my life. It came as a bit of a shock."

"I think I was a bit afraid I wouldn't be able to keep control of the children, but I seem to be doing fine." Florence found talking to Minerva comfortable and had no qualms about telling her that.

"Probably best not to be too confident." Minerva said and sipped her coffee. Florence pulled another scroll out of her blue ragbag and unrolled it, impressed with the neat handwriting of Colin Creevey. Minerva stood up and said:

"Good night. Must be going, don't want to be tired tomorrow: the children will be all excited about Christmas and totally uncontrollable!" She smiled at Florence, Severus, Hazel and Suzan Sprout. Suzan and Hazel, both having outside jobs, lived apart from the main teachers quarters.

"Feel like walking over with me?" Said Suzan getting up and yawning widely.

"Why not?" Hazel sounded just as drowsy, a testament to how trying a term at Hogwarts could be. "Good night."

"Good night." They left with small waves and smiles.

There were several minutes where the only sound was the crackling of the dying fire.

"I don't know why you bother to mark scrolls before the last day of term. None of the Students would notice if you didn't bother." Severus spoke in a slow deep voice.

"Well, if I didn't mark them now, I would never bother. At least this way I know I'm keeping up with how my pupils are progressing." She didn't look at him, just spoke into the piece of parchment on her lap, appearing completely absorbed. He shifted in his chair and just watched her.

Florence found herself getting uncomfortable now that they were alone together. She made it seem as though she had finished the scroll, drained her coffee cup, put her quills in her ragbag and stood up to leave. She offered him a wan smile and walked over to the door, pulling it open with her free hand. She walked out but was pulled back by her sleeve.

Florence hadn't even realised Severus had stood up. He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close to him possessively. She was too surprised to react as he bowed his head and brushed his lips over hers; the mistletoe the only excuse he needed.

Cool and gentle, the kiss sent a ripple right through her. He let her go, straightening himself.

She dropped the bag full of scrolls, reached up and taking the back of his neck pulled him back down, crushing their lips together. Severus didn't need encouraging to take her in his arms. He pressed her close to him, enjoying the warmth of her and the wash of feelings.

Florence delighted in the surrender, allowing his tongue entrance to her mouth, deepening the kiss.

He pulled her right back inside the room, kicking the door shut. It gave a satisfying slam. He pushed her up against the closed door and groaned into the kiss.

Winding her arms round his neck, Florence was in no doubt how much Severus wanted her, and she wanted him right back. Her whole body felt weak under his touch as he drew his hands up her back from her hips, sliding them into her clothes.

"Severus" she gasped; his hands were cold. He slid one hand out and swept her thick brown hair over her shoulder so he could kiss her neck, working his way up. She groaned and drew her legs up around him, willing to give herself completely. He growled in excitement, leaning into her.

And that was it. He stopped, perfectly still, holding her up against the staff room door. He slowly drew his hand out of her robes. He took a deep breath and grunted in frustration with himself. She lowered her legs in surprise and disappointment. If she had been shocked when he pulled her back into the room, it was nothing to this. What was he playing at? She stepped away from the door, but her legs were weak and she ended up sliding down the wall. Her heart was thundering and her whole body awash with heat. He was glorious. He wrenched the door open angrily and swept out, slamming it behind him.

She sat there on the floor, blinking in shock. Angry with herself for letting the lust she was feeling now fan the flames of old feelings and angry with him for dropping her as if she had suddenly turned into Mr Filch. She told herself that she could have expected it. He had proven before that he could easily walk away from her without a word.

It would have been delicious though, she mused as she pulled herself to her feet and started collecting up her things. He was everything she was supposed to hate, the ultimate in forbidden fruit, every woman's original sin. Severus was the sex equivalent of a Kebab, a real dirt-snack that left you feeling wrong and right at the same time.

What had he been thinking? There was no way he should have done that. What had he been hoping for if not exactly what had happened? Had he wanted her to tell him off, to tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him and that he should leave her alone? It would certainly make life easier; he would know where he stood. But now?

He stood staring out of one of the windows on the second floor, it had no glass and the frosty air bit at his face. He rested his hands on the ledge, in an attempt to erase the memory of her warmth.

Severus wasn't sure how long he stood there, long enough for any vestiges of arousal to have died away, but the same thought kept returning to him. He had wanted to take her right there on the floor of the staff room and she would have let him. But she didn't know anything. The full extent of the things he'd done. He couldn't keep the memories of the night he'd known he had to leave the Dark Lord's service.

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It was raining and the sound of distant thunder filled the sky. He had been tying up ends for Voldemort all day: there were memories to be wiped, tracks to be covered and information to be "collected".

But now, he was to meet up with a small group of other Death Eaters in a tavern owned by a known supporter of the Dark Lord. They had been off enjoying the perks of their status as members of the Inner Circle.

As he stepped through the tavern door, stooping slightly, he noticed the bar man drying glasses behind the bar and watched him nod curtly at him. "Upstairs" he said and continued what he was doing. Severus opened the door to the stairway and walked the narrow twisting steps into the crooked building.

He opened a door at the end of a long passageway and was met with the unmistakable smell of illegal intoxicants. Two cauldrons stood in the corner of the dank little room and there were noticeable bloodstains in the carpet. A man, who Snape recognised as Igor Karkaroff, was slumped, twitching, on the floor. He went over to him and firmly prodded him in the small of his back with his boot. Karkaroff rolled over onto his back and looked crazily up at Snape with watery bloodshot eyes. He laughed hysterically at something.

"You missed a good time tonight" he slurred and his eyes moved haphazardly, trying to fix on something. "We got three... filthy muggles... have a witch child..." He hiccuped and rolled back over getting onto his knees. Snape looked disdainfully at him.

"If you die young, you will have no one to blame but yourself" He said slowly, trying not to take too much notice of the utterly delirious Karkaroff.

"Findals... put up quite a struggle... considering... " He looked up at Snape for a reaction but got only a look of disgust. "Had quite a party here... picked up a few young muggles... I think the ones with..." he gestured lazily to one of the doors that led to an adjoining room. "The ones with Travers are still..." He started to retch uncontrollably. "...are still..." He retched again and Snape was treated to the sight of whatever Karkaroff had eaten that day being deposited down his robes. Too out of it to notice, Karkaroff slurred on, undeterred. "Well, they're still... if you feel like it, that is... I need to work up an appetite myself, first..." His eyes spun around in his head and he collapsed back on the floor.

Findals... have a witch child...

Snape kicked Karkaroff hard in the back but he just moaned loudly and didn't come around. Snape took out his wand and muttered a spell to bring him out of it enough to speak.

Karkaroff spluttered, retched and added more stains to the carpet.

"You said you had three... who?" Snape demanded of the insanely euphoric man before him.

"Findals... dirty muggles..."

"Which ones? Mother? Father?"

"Yeah... mother, father..."

"And...?"

"I don't know..." Karkaroff's head lolled crazily to one side. "A young man... son. The witch wasn't there... shame." He passed out in his own vomit and Snape as good as ran from the room. And he knew where he was going...

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A/N: That last bit was a flash back!

Love and hugs

Martha & Squirrel. Xx