Disclaimer:

All characters in the story are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury Books, with the exception of Eleanora Sterling, who is my own creation.
This story is created purely for the entertainment of myself and other like-minded readers.
I make no money from doing this, so please don't sue me!

Author Note:

Gentle readers, please forgive any minor liberties I play with the Hogwarts world and its' inhabitants. The pursits among you will no doubt find many minor errors in facts, setting, tone, but hopefully not in character.

- Grey Lady

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Chapter 7: Flirtation

"You do have quite the potty mouth," he chuckled. "I like that in a woman."

"Really. And just how many women have you motivated to swear at you? Plenty, is my guess."

"Touché! Who's baiting who now?" he crowed. My answer was a smirk.

"No really, I'm sorry about before," he said. "I see that you've done a lot for me. You didn't deserve my sarcasm."

"You're apologizing to me. Now I'm really worried."

"But it was so much fun, you see. I like having someone to spar with. Baiting people is what I do best, my dear. Lets me see what you are made of."

"And what exactly am I made of?"

"Well, certainly not sugar and spice and everything nice well, perhaps a bit of spice. The hair's nice..."

I had had enough. I decided I might be better off sitting somewhere on the other side of the room. I rose, tugging at my skirt, which had ridden up.

"Those legs of yours do go all the way up, don't they?" he murmured appreciatively. His voice was beginning to have a very erotic effect on me.

"Are you flirting with me?" I demanded.

"Do you think I should flirt with you?"

"Do you think I want you to flirt with me?"

"Now, don't answer a question with a question. It's damned annoying."

"You did it first," I pointed out.

"Yes, I did so. All right, to answer your question, since you haven't told me yet to 'shut the fuck up', I'll assume you do." He gave me a twisted smiled of triumph.

"When I want you to shut up, I'll tell you." I was looking right into his eyes now. Egad, but they were dark, and glittering with mischief. I was beginning to get very stirred-up. Not the time or place, Nora, and probably not the person either.

How could I find him so damned obnoxious only ten minutes ago and so damned sexy now? (And why do I always seem to pick the dark ones?)

"Ah so you do find me attractive," he purred.

"Who said I did?" I shot back.

"Your eyes, dear... your eyes. They tell me that you find me irresistible."

"In your dreams, asshole!" I laughed.

"What was that kiss all about then?"

"I seem to recall it was pretty mutual."

"How was it mutual if I was in a coma?" he asked rather nastily.

"Do you think I'm the sort that goes around taking advantage of comatose men just to get my jollies?"

"I have no idea. How many comatose men have you kissed lately?"

"Just you, Handsome."

"I rest my case."

"Well, since you seem so convinced that I find you 'irresistible', then you must be starting to kind of like me by now." I countered, attempting to turn the tables.

"How so?"

"Well, I've always been told that when you think someone is attracted to you, you start to find them pretty attractive too. Since you seem so firmly convinced that I'm madly in love with you, you must be pretty warm for my form by now."

"Really."

"Really. Let me prove it to you. If you're up to it."

I went to the side of his bed and leaned over him so that my face was close to his, but not touching him at all. I looked right into his eyes. His pupils started to dilate, as much as I could see them against the deep colour of his irises. I think he was beginning to get a whiff of my perfume, for his nostrils began to flare. Upping the ante a bit, I parted my lips slightly and let the tip of my tongue slide part way across my lower lip. It worked. His eyes left mine just for an instant and flicked down to my mouth.

"Hah! You blinked!" I crowed. But I didn't move back fast enough. I was instantly caught by my upper arms and pulled into a tight embrace. Our lips locked. The kiss was furiously passionate. After several seconds I had to break away in order to get my breath.

"Woah! Where did you learn to kiss like that?" I murmured.

"Shut the fuck up," he commanded. Then he shut me up.

The second kiss lasted for several seconds, then the inevitable occurred. I had to move away from him, and fast.

A feeling of nausea overtook me followed by a gripping dread. There was obviously still a lot of the Dementors bad effect in him and I was taking it on. If this was what he was suffering, I pitied him even more. But I had to stop feeling this terrible feeling!

I groaned aloud. Bad thoughts began to crowd my mind. It suddenly occurred to me that I was the one who had killed my father! I had always suspected it had been my mother, after Dad's oppression had proved too much for her, but it had really been me! I had unknowingly induced his final, fatal heart attack! Me! Guilt racked me. I wanted to die.

Snape sat up in bed and gripped my arms and shook me. His lips moved but I couldn't hear him above my own moans of distress.

I pointed to the tray next to the bed. "Chocolate! STAT!" I hollered. I grabbed the chunk that appeared and began to devour it. Almost instantly the horrible feelings of guilt and anxiety began to fade away.

I sank into the armchair. I could not speak for several seconds. Snape hovered over me with a look of concern.

"What was that all about? One moment I'm kissing you and the next you're acting like you've been attacked by a Dementor. I never knew I had that kind of effect on women!"

I felt so much better than I had a few moments ago I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I tried laughing. It helped.

"Come, lie down here. You look exhausted." He moved over and patted the bed next to him. Hesitantly I lay down next to him, as he held my hand in an attempt to be comforting. Something told me that comforting distraught women was something he hadn't had much practice at, but this seemed to be working.

"It wasn't really you that did that to me," I began. "But there's something you maybe don't know." How could I tell him this without confessing my feelings for him? The last thing I wanted right now was for him to think he had any power over me.

"Madame Pomfrey explained to me that there are two ways to counteract the effects of a Dementor attack. One is by chocolate, as you know. But the second is a kiss from a person who - um - cares- about the victim," I explained.

"So the first time you kissed me was just - treatment," he said, with just the slightest hint of disappointment.

"Um, yes. I was trying to help you deal with the effects of your attack." I knew he wasn't buying that for a second but it was worth a try.

"But the second and third kiss"

"That was different. You initiated that!" I protested.

"You provoked me severely," he answered sternly.

"I can be very provoking when I want to be." I smirked. "But seriously, every time I kiss you, until the effects are gone, that is what will happen to me." I sighed. "That was awful. Is it that bad for you, when it happens? Because if it is, I don't know how you stand it."

"I'm no stranger to angst," he answered ruefully. "Guilt and recrimination are old acquaintances of mine. When it comes to mental torture, the Dementors can't touch what I can do to myself."

I had no answer for that.

"Did you have some bad thoughts, when you were in the throes of that?" he asked.

"Yes, I did. It had never occurred to me before, but for a moment there I was convinced that I was the one responsible for my father's fatal heart attack. Now I'm not so sure if that is the truth."

"Sometimes what the Dementors make us see is illusion. Sometimes it's the truth, but more often it's what we, deep down, suspect may be the truth about ourselves."

I breathed a deep sigh and closed my eyes for a moment.

"I don't know anything about your past or your circumstances, but had you ever suspected before that you might have caused your father's death?"

I sighed again and snuggled into his side. Where to begin?

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NEXT: Nora Tells Her Story