It was deep into the starry night. A draft from the crack in Róisín's dormitory window chilled her feet which had poked out from under the covers. At the same time, her feet padded against a cool, silk, Persian carpet as she ran through her dream.
The rich reds and golden yellows of the carpet swirled delightfully in front of her, lighting her way down a dark Hogwarts corridor. The patterns formed puzzling erotic shapes which disturbed and enticed her. She hurried on.
Turning a corner, she stopped when she saw a tall, cloaked figure walking towards her. His face was a mix of sharp, pale angles surrounded by stringy shadow. Róisín recognized him.
This is my world.
Her lower abdomen glowing sweetly, Róisín strode towards the dark man, grabbed a fist of his robes, and dragged him until he was pinning her against a cushioned wall. Sparks of excitement leapt from her skin. She kissed and rubbed against him with lots of enthusiasm and little skill, but she could barely feel him and he did not respond. She groaned with frustration.
Then, rapid as a dog bite, the wizard grabbed her wrists and shoved them against the wall. The pain was sharp. Suddenly, she was naked. Before, she had been wearing nothing at all, but now her nudity was obscene.
She tried to wriggle against him, but his strong body immobilized her. He stepped away and began to unbuckle his trousers.
Róisín made to run, but could not move. She was frozen against the wall.
No. This is my world.
The man's vague crooked features morphed continuously into caricatures of anger, disgust, indifference, lust, and disdain, yet his movements were steady. He grabbed her waist roughly and pressed himself against her.
NO
Every inch of Róisín's paralysed body screamed for help, but not even a whisper escaped. The man grabbed in-between her legs and a fiery pain shot through her.
WAKE UP
Róisín knew that in the real world, the one where she lay asleep on her bed, the laws of physics had to break and every indivisible particle of her body would explode from the effort of trying to wake up.
But they didn't.
After an age passed, the dark man dissolved away and Róisín tumbled from the nightmare into a deeper sleep.
When she woke in the morning her pillow was damp with tears.
The Great Hall rumbled with the munching and crunching of students enjoying their breakfasts. A glistening fried egg stared up at Róisín like a golden-eyed cyclops. Her stomach grimaced.
"Are you alright, Róisín?" Ida asked with a frown, "you look a little pale."
"Yeah, just not hungry." Ida gave her a small smile before turning to Anna to discuss their Herbology project. Róisín began to sweat with nausea as they described in vivid detail the various fungi infecting their African spider ivy. She sipped her tea to distract herself and winced as the boiling liquid burnt her tongue.
She had to meet Snape tonight.
Róisín glanced at the high table but the potion professor's seat was vacant. She took another painful sip of tea.
Róisín tapped her heel against the stone floor as she waited for her last class of the day to begin. Her earlier classes had passed in a blur, she had barely paid attention and hadn't been able to summon her usual chatty self with her friends. She pretended to read her tattered, second-hand copy of "Advanced Potion Making" while glancing intermittently at the open door of the dungeon classroom.
The door shimmered like the air above a tarmacadam road on a blistering day. Róisín watched the shimmering move up the aisle between the students' workbenches. Then, at the top of the class, a blot of what looked like shiny black paint appeared hovering in the air. The paint trickled down to reveal dark tendrils of hair and an angular face as the potions professor dripped into view, as though he were being formed by liquid poured over a transparent, Snape-shaped mould. The students' chattering died as the rest of the class noticed their professor.
It was icy in the dungeons. The students' breaths rose from their mouths like steam from a dragon's nostrils. But Róisín was hot. Her eyes avoided Snape as if the sight of him burned. He began lecturing them on magical concealment methods and his foul mood bled into the vigour with which he interrogated his victims. Róisín hoped desperately that he wouldn't call on her for an answer. Finally, he told them to begin brewing their invisibility potions. Róisín scanned the ingredient list in her textbook:
Shredded skin of Anguisette - 1.5 oz.
Armadillo bile - 1 fl. oz.
Powdered bone of Baumidger -2 oz.
Cannabis leaf -0.1 oz.
Chopped Cherries - 2.5 oz.
Veiled Chameleon tongue - 1 in.
Cow's Milk - 1 pt.
Fern moss - 4 oz.
5 Ghost Mantis Legs -
1 Mossy Leaf-Tail Gecko eye -
Peppered Moths - 1 oz.
Spinach - 4 oz.
Tobacco leaf - 1 oz.
Thestral hair - 6 in.
"Obviously the cannabis is not in the store cupboard and neither is the thestral hair nor the anguisette skin," Snape drawled. "I will hand each of you the exact amount of these required at my desk." Róisín's heart raced at the prospect of this small interaction. "If any of the cannabis somehow escapes your potion the consequences will be severe." Snape glared at the Weasley twin's best friend, Jordan, as if he had already stuffed the drug into his pockets.
Róisín avoided her professor's eyes as she approached his desk. Her hands trembled when he handed her the vials of expensive ingredients.
Soon the classroom began to fill with bubbles as the students added the armadillo bile to the curdling cow's milk. Róisín winced as a hot bubble of bile burst against her chin. She squinted at the complicated brewing instructions on the splattered page, her thoughts swimming with the memory of Snape kissing her in Dumbledore's office and imaginings of them together later that night. Her head ached.
"Surely, we can skip the step, "taste the crushed moths to determine their sweetness"?" Róisín asked Ida while wiping her chin with disgust.
"Ugh, I hope so," Ida replied with a shudder as she glanced back at the instructions. "Don't worry, Róisín, it says taste the cherries to determine their sweetness and grind the moths," she corrected.
"Thank Olympus," Róisín muttered.
Finally, her potion was thick and mossy green. She placed the tobacco and cannabis leaves in a small stone bowl beside her cauldron. Then, she lit the leaves and covered both the bowl and the cauldron with a hemispherical glass cover to allow the smoke to infuse the liquid.
Snape had instructed them to leave once they had finished this step as the potion had to stew overnight. Róisín had been distracted while brewing and now when she looked up she saw that most of her classmates had already left. Only three remained, Anthony Atkinson, a perfectionist in all academic endeavours even for a Ravenclaw, Zoltan Kun, and Lee Jordan. Róisín watched the latter shoot Snape a nervous glance as he placed his glass cover over his potion with lightning speed, making sure not a particle of burnt cannabis was lost. Róisín stole a glance at Kun. He looked uncharacteristically weary, with his head in his hands and his tall frame hunched over his textbook.
Kun lifted his head and Róisín hastily looked back at her potion, feigning interest in the smoke accumulating under the glass cover. She was dawdling. Before she left she had to ask Snape when to meet him that evening. Reluctantly, she began packing her things into her satchel.
Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps towards her professor. A crash erupted behind her. Róisín flung around. Jordan was standing over a shattered glass jar with hairy mantis legs strewn around it.
"20 points from Gryffindor," Snape stated coolly without looking up from his writing. Róisín hesitated, wondering if Jordan needed help cleaning the mess. "Are you going to stand there all day, Miss Feral?" Snape asked, his quill still scratching across the parchment. Róisín gave another start, she hadn't realised he'd noticed her.
"Em, no sir, sorry." She turned and scurried from the room.
Serpentine carvings twisted along the damp stone walls of Salazar Slytherin's labyrinth as if they were chasing Róisín away. Her eyes stung. Ugh, why couldn't I be a brave Gryffindor? She reached the top of the steep, little-known, "Snacker's Staircase" and was hit by the syrupy aromas of Helga Hufflepuff's kitchen corridor. She barely registered the paintings of musicians and dancers calling out to her, the trick steps she avoided by habit, the suits of armour dipping their helmets and the young wizards and witches parting for her on revolving staircases. They were all blurred by her tears.
For the first time in seven and a half years Róisín wished the owl carrying her Hogwarts letter had lost its way.
No, it would have been awful if he'd been injured or something but-
"Hey, Feral, wait up!" a deep voice called out. Róisín turned around, confused. Zoltan Kun was bounding up the marble staircase towards her. She hastily rubbed her eyes with her sleeves. She must have been mistaken earlier, he didn't look a bit tired now.
"Hey Kun," she replied shyly. She hadn't thought the popular Slytherin even knew her name.
"We're having a snowball fight, Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, you interested?"
"Em…" Róisín bit her lip and glanced out the window. The colours in the stain-glass were swirling with the shadows of the falling snow.
"Come on, Feral, I heard you know a handy bombardio jinx," Kun teased smoothly. The tall Slytherin was standing very close to her. She started to blush.
"It's just… der's a lot'a work I have to do." Róisín didn't meet his eyes as she spoke, overly aware of how her coarse Dublin accent contrasted with his more refined British one.
"All right, all the better for us Slytherins, you'll have to show me that bombardio jinx another time." He smiled at her and sauntered away. Róisín watched his retreating form. What in the world was that about?
Shaking her head, she turned away and hurried through the castle. She knew she had to go back to the dungeons to ask Snape about meeting him later that night, but her feet were refusing to take her. She found herself instead in the most luxurious part of the castle, near the Gryffindor common room. The plush oriental carpet beneath her reminded her of something, but she couldn't think clearly with the stress bubbling inside her like the bile-green blisters of her invisibility potion. If only she could drink some and disappear.
What would happen if she didn't go to the potions professor tonight, would he find her instead? Would he be angry? Would Dumbledore insist she stop practicing magic for good?
She needed to talk to Anna more than ever. She hadn't even apologised to her yet for being so snarky last night. She felt awkward broaching the subject without being able to speak freely. Fuck Snape and his fucking tongue-tying curse.
But there was a woman she could talk to.
Róisín found herself staring at the carved lioness on the door of Professor McGonagall's study. She hesitated before giving the door two soft knocks. The wooden feline purred as it extended out from the door to rub its varnished ears against Róisín's palm.
"Come in," came McGonagall's voice.
The head of Gryffindor was seated at her desk, piles of essays stacked neatly around her and a fire glowing behind, its warmth welcoming Róisín like an embrace. McGonagall looked up and laid down her quill, as though she had expected to see her. "Miss Feral, what can I do for you?"
"Em…" Róisín shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "It's about-" She choked. It was as if the air had been hoovered from her throat.
McGonagall lurched from her chair, wand in hand.
"What's wrong child?" Róisín attempted to reassure her, but instead made a raw, croaky sound. "Did someone silence you?" McGonagall pressed. Róisín found she could no longer nod but her eyes widened in affirmation. The round alarm in the lines around McGonagall's eyes sharpened. "I'll summon the potions master so he can allow you to speak with me."
"No, nevermind -" Róisín exclaimed.
"- Nonsense! It'll only take a moment," McGonagall assured her. "It was short-sighted of me to not realise he would have silenced you." She sat down and dipped her quill into a pot of glittery, neon-green ink, wrote on a piece of parchment, and flicked it into the fire. She gestured for Róisín to sit.
A few awkward minutes passed where McGonagall asked about Róisín's studies, however she didn't mention her slipping transfiguration grades, for which Róisín was grateful. Suddenly a small, rolled scroll flew from the fire and McGonagall snatched it from the air. Róisín flinched at the abrupt movement.
"He'll arrive momentarily," McGonagall said after reading the scroll. Róisín tensed.
A whoosh of air blew from the fireplace as it erupted into garish green flames, and outstepped the potions professor, tall, thin and black-clad like a shadow at dusk.
"Good evening, Severus," McGonagall greeted and Snape inclined his head in acknowledgement. Róisín gave him a timid nod which he saw but ignored.
"You require my services?" he asked in a tone which implied he had more important things to be doing.
"Yes, Miss Feral wants to discuss some things with me which a tongue-tying curse won't allow her to speak of," McGonagall said. "Presumably it is your tongue-tying curse?"
"It is," Snape replied, sliding his eyes onto Róisín, who promptly averted her own to her lap. There was a pause.
"Could you lift it regarding myself?" McGonagall asked, her tone rigid.
"I could."
"Excellent-"
"- However," Snape continued, "the more individuals allowed into the tie, the weaker it will become."
"I'm confident it will remain strong enough, coming from a powerful wizard such as yourself," McGonagall countered. Róisín bit her cheeks to stop herself smiling. She saw Snape stiffen from the corner of her eye.
"Nevertheless, it would be unnecessary to lift the tie now, as I know why Miss Feral has sought you out," Snape replied. "Presumably she intended to approach me but believed doing so would draw attention to herself… since for the past six years she has avoided my person like the plague." He let his words sink in before adding, "so she came to you instead."
Róisín continued to study her hands in her lap. She now understood why the word "mortify" came from the Latin "to put to death".
"I have no idea why she would, Severus, you're clearly the most approachable of the teaching staff," McGonagall replied dryly. "Anyway, I told Miss Feral that she was free to discuss her concerns regarding this arrangement with myself and I intend to keep my word."
Róisín swallowed. The two most formidable Hogwarts professors were sparring right in front of her. Anna would cry laughing if I told her.
"Stand," Snape ordered. Róisín got to her feet so promptly it was as if his command were laced with an imperious. McGonagall's lips pursed.
Then the black tip of Snape's wand was pressing against Róisín's bottom lip.
"Libera lingua quia McGonagall"
Róisín's tongue vibrated with his magic.
"Well, is Professor Snape's assumption correct?" McGonagall asked.
"Eh, yeah, it is Professor," Róisín lied.
"And what did you intend to ask him?"
"Just em, what time he wanted me to meet him tonight, and where."
"My office," Snape stated. Róisín turned to him,
"And, em… when?"
"Whenever"
"Oh, so after supper or…"
"I refuse to summon you at an exact time like a -"
He didn't finish his sentence, but disgust twisted the harsh lines of his face. Róisín felt like she'd been slapped. Finally, McGonagall broke the awful silence that followed,
"Miss Feral, you are excused, feel free to visit me when you wish."
Róisín left the room with Snape's unspoken slur ringing in her ears.
McGonagall's expression was as tight as her hair-bun.
"I realise how difficult this must be for you-"
"- With respect, Minerva, you do not."
Her lips formed a thin line, but Snape's cold gaze was steady.
"I must request you be kinder to her."
"And I would request that you do not undermine my authority by summoning me like a bold child." His voice rose from a whisper to a snarl.
"Surely in this circumstance, Severus, it would be best to not emphasise said authority in front of the young woman."
"I did not ask for this."
"I wasn't implying you had," McGonagall stated.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, as if steeling themselves to duel.
"If there is nothing else?" Snape snapped.
McGonagall shook her head and Snape swept from the room.
Róisín ate her supper like a zombie. Ida and Anna had gone to the greenhouses to check on their African spider ivy and Róisín had taken the opportunity to sneak down to the Great Hall early so she wouldn't have to chat with them. The students around her were raving about the muffin topped beef stew the Hogwarts elves were famous for, but it felt slimy and tasteless as it slid down her throat.
Back in her room, Róisín dug out an old, somewhat rusty disposable razor from a corner of her closet. It was of the kind she used to use before she had learnt the depilation charm. It was a tricky charm and she worried that her nerves might cause her to mess it up and pluck herself completely bald, which was not how she wanted to meet Snape.
When she finally emerged from the shower in a cloud of hot steam her skin was pink from scrubbing and her legs were smooth. She passed her full-length mirror and paused, dropping her towel and stepping back to confront her reflection. Her eyes wandered over her naked figure, hungrily picking out every imperfection, her short legs, square hips, breasts and nipples too large for her small frame, freckles sprinkled not just prettily on her nose but all over her face, her straight eyelashes which were too short to curl, her lower lip which was a bit too big and her upper lip which was a bit too small. She sighed and stepped back. She knew she was being hard on herself. Anna had once overheard a Gryffindor in their year tell his friend, "that Feral girl's well fit" and Eóghan had called her pretty. He had whispered in her ear how her eyes sparkled when she smiled, how her high cheekbones stood out, how he couldn't stop thinking about her tiny waist and round behind…
She couldn't think about Eóghan. That would make tonight impossible. She buried the Scottish boy deep in her mind and got dressed, pretending it was the steam that caused her eyes to water.
It was still early evening so she decided to study for a while before going to meet Snape, and as she looked at the textbooks strewn around her room her eyes fell on the grey book.
"Fuuck!" she cursed. She had forgotten her detention. A glance at her alarm clock told her she was already fifteen minutes late. She grabbed her wand and sprinted down the stairs into the common room, out the walnut door, and down the Ravenclaw spiral staircase.
"Róisín, what's wrong!?"
Róisín looked back and saw Anna and Ida, but she didn't slow as she huffed out,
"Detention, late, I'll explain later!"
She found Madam Pince in the "European Herbology" section of the library, re-stacking books.
"I'm so sorry, Madam!" Róisín spluttered, gasping for breath. The librarian looked cross but not surprised, as though such tardiness was what she had expected, and began listing the jobs she had for her.
For the next three hours Róisín reorganised a whole row of bookshelves in the "Poisonous Parapsychological Plants" section, which had been jumbled by "blasphemous, meddling students". When she finally left the library, her arms hurt from stacking books and her head hurt from deciphering the illogical numbering of Friedrick's sorting system. Her feet felt like lead as they dragged her towards Snape's office.
It was late. The darkness thickened as she descended the countless steps into the dungeons, where there were no windows to let in the starlight. Far too soon, she was staring at his office door. She knocked.
"Enter"
The door flew open. Snape was standing behind his desk, leaning on it with the tips of his fingers. Hundreds of glass jars lined the walls, filled with bits of plants and animals floating in potions of varying colours, which made him look like a cashier in an old-style sweet shop.
"Good evening, professor"
"Did anyone see you?" he asked abruptly.
"Em… I don't think– "
"Not even ghosts?"
"I'm not sure."
He paused before stating curtly,
"It's past curfew."
"Sorry, I em… had a detention, sir."
"With whom?"
"Madam Pince, I stayed too late in the library yesterday." Róisín clenched her teeth, waiting for him to reprimand her. Instead he straightened and said,
"I'll show you to my chambers." He strode towards a tall cupboard. Róisín didn't move. "Unless you'd prefer for us to stay here?" His eyes swept to the desk and Róisín's eyes followed. A pink heat rose in her cheeks.
Snape opened the cupboard and entered the passageway it had concealed. Róisín followed with quick steps to keep up with his long stride. The narrow corridor lead into a cavernous room with walls that looked as though water had carved them from rock over millennia. Róisín jumped as a fire roared into life in the fireplace.
She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve.
Remember it is not your responsibility to break every silence you find yourself in.
"Wow… em, this room is impressive," she said.
"Salazar Slytherin liked to impress."
"Oh, these were his chambers?"
Snape paused, looking at her.
"…I am the Head of Slytherin."
"Sorry, of course, I'm being stupid."
He didn't argue with her, instead he turned and began to take off his infamous black cloak. The innocuous act made her legs wobble like a new-born foal.
"Em… sir, may I use your bathroom?"
He inclined his head and gestured towards a door on her right. Róisín walked at a natural pace to the door, although her jerky movements betrayed her urge to flee. Once inside, she felt the tingling need to pee which must have been a result of her anxiety as she had used the toilet before heading to the dungeons. After releasing a meagre amount of urine, Róisín slowly washed her hands. She stood staring at the dark wood of the door, begging her hands to reach for it. She let out a long shaky breath. Do not cry. Do NOT cry. DO NOT CRY. She scrunched her eyes and repeated the mental mantra. Images of Snape's domineering form and cruel eyes stalked around her head, rolling with the memories of all the disdainful looks he had given her through-out the years.
She sank into a corner and dug her fingernails into her scrunched face. She loathed herself. Get up. What the fuck are you doing on the floor? But she couldn't move. Her muscles were rigid and ached with tension. I can't, I can't, I can't. After a sharp intake of breath her emotions ruptured and spilled from her. She wailed and gasped. She didn't care if he heard. She wanted out of this situation, out of her life, right now.
"Miss Feral, open the door"
A forceful knocking accompanied Snape's stern voice. Róisín cowered, expecting him to magically unlock the door. He is doing me a favour, and THIS is how I repay him, crying like a child on the floor? Róisín sobbed louder. The knocking ceased and a few minutes passed where she could only hear her own gasping. Then she heard Professor McGonagall's concerned voice from beyond the door,
"Miss Feral, may I come in? Perhaps I could discuss this…situation with you?" Róisín scrambled to her feet and peaked out of a crack in the door. "Professor Snape has gone to his study to allow us to speak in private," McGonagall explained.
"Em..why…"
"Hearing your distress, he requested that I talk to you."
"Oh," Róisín mouthed between sniffles. She tentatively opened the door and looked at the floor in shame.
"I cannot begin to imagine how difficult this is for you, but you must be brave." Róisín gave a slight nod and avoided her professor's gaze. "We'll sit down and tackle your misgivings together." McGonagall threw two marbles in the air with a flick of her wrist. They landed with a thud in front of the fire, having been transfigured mid-flight into two sumptuous armchairs. They settled into the chairs, Róisín curling up and wrapping herself in her arms.
"Despite the obvious, tell me what's wrong," McGonagall began.
"Em…I'm super nervous… and embarrassed."
"That's perfectly understandable."
"I just wish I were different," Róisín said quietly.
"Look at me," McGonagall's voice was soft. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, on the contrary, it is something to be proud of, sióga can be very powerful when their needs are met."
Róisín cringed, "I wish I didn't have needs."
"You cannot change who you are, you can only choose what to do with yourself." Róisín stared into the fire. The happy flames danced around the fireplace, mocking her. "Now…" Professor McGonagall continued, "Are there any practical issues on your mind?" Róisín bit her lip as fresh tears spilled from her eyes,
"I'm scared of him."
McGonagall sighed,
"I know Professor Snape is intimidating, but he is a good man. You must trust him."
The fire crackled loudly.
"Em… will Professor Snape expect me to... do anything in particular? I mean should I just lie there or…" Róisín trailed off and didn't glance at the professor, as if it were the fire's opinion she was looking for.
"He has no expectations of you, I'm sure he will lead the way so to speak, but I encourage you to talk to him, it will make it easier."
A couple of minutes passed and Róisín gradually stopped sniffling.
"I'll go tell him you've calmed down." McGonagall made to leave and Róisín trembled at the thought of what was to come. "And for Merlin's sake stop shaking like a Norwegian Snrufflepompf," Her professor admonished with a smile. "He's only a man and not an inch as cruel as he lets on."
"I wish I had some of that Gryffindor courage," Róisín replied bashfully.
"Ha! Every one of my Gryffindor students would draw a basilisk's gaze if they were in your position."
Professor McGonagall left Róisín in the bedroom and joined Professor Snape in his study. The potions master was seated at his desk with his fingers pressed heavily against his temples. He was unnaturally still. McGonagall watched something black and feathered swim around a jar of green mucous behind him while she collected her thoughts. This was a delicate situation.
"She is much calmer now." Snape gave an almost imperceptible incline of his head in acknowledgement. "I don't think you can wait another night," McGonagall added. Snape's face shot up,
"Minerva, the child is terrified, you couldn't possibly expect me to-"
"-She is not a child, she is eighteen, a young woman, and the sooner you realise that the better."
"This is ludicrous." Each syllable held the weight of Snape's anger. "I will not rape her."
Professor McGonagall flinched but spoke defiantly, "It is not rape, Severus, she needs you -"
"- She does not want to need me."
"She is unwell, her magic is wreaking havoc on her." McGonagall's voice held a hint of a plea, "You said you would help her."
"That was before I knew the extent of her despair at the prospect."
"You expected enthusiasm?"
Snape groaned and clenched his fists,
"Leave"
"Will you do it?"
"What choice do I have?" Snape spat at her. McGonagall did not reply. She wanted to reassure him somehow, but did not know how. She turned and left his quarters.
The green light from the depths of the Hogwarts Lake filtered through the window and made strange patterns on the wall. Róisín took in her surroundings. There was an imposing four poster bed with slithering snakes carved into the wood work.
Did one of them just move? This is beyond weird. I'm in my Professor's bedroom, waiting for him to have sex with me… if he ever comes back. How long have I been sitting here? Has he left his quarters? Am I alone? Suddenly, Róisín noticed a dark form reflected in the black marble of the fireplace, hanging behind her in mid-air.
She shot from her chair and spun around. A large pair of bright blue eyes, slanted at an inhuman angle stared at her. Their owner floated in the murky lake an inch from the window pane, the light from the bedroom barely illuminating its form. Róisín eyed the figure as unease crept through her. The creature's webbed fingers clenched and unclenched around a jagged tooth of a large animal.
"Lux sanctus!" The merperson dived to avoid the flash of light shot from behind Róisín, its rapid movement making her jump. Snape strode into the room. He flicked his wand and a black curtain fell into existence with a swoosh to cover the window.
"They cannot reach you in here," he said, his jaw clenched. "They are curious creatures and your presence intrigued her, it is unprecedented for a student to be in my bed chambers… not surprisingly."
Róisín shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The primal flight or flee instinct seized her as Snape stepped towards her. She tried to keep still and focused on one of his coat buttons level with her eyes.
"I'm sorry for hiding sir, it was immature and -"
"Your apologies are not necessary." His words were clipped. Róisín swallowed and looked up at his face, her eyes puffy from crying. She glanced away and blushed as she forced her words out,
"I… em appreciate what you are doing for me."
"I'm sure you do." His voice dripped with sarcasm.
There was silence. Ages came and went, cities grew and crumbled into dust, mountains peaked and were eroded away, stars died and were reborn, and yet still they stood a metre from each other, both frozen, Róisín examining the lint on Snape's cloak under his piercing glare. Did he expect her to do something?
Finally, he spoke,
"Miss Feral, it is of utmost importance that you relax, the more anxious you are, the more difficult this will be." He gestured towards the bed. "Make yourself comfortable, I will return momentarily." He left through a side door Róisín hadn't noticed.
What does he mean, make myself comfortable? Does he want me to undress?
Róisín was only brave enough to remove her jumper and shoes. The bed was so high it reached her middle. Snape returned as she clambered onto it gracelessly. She sat against the headboard with her feet crossed underneath her. He had taken off his outer robes and wore an untucked button-down shirt.
"I didn't know if you wanted me to take off my clothes or…"
"Miss Feral, I am doing this to help you, what I want is inconsequential."
She breathed faster as he walked towards the bed. Her cheeks burned as she was reminded of the night he had come to her room when she had her period.
"I realise this is difficult for you, and there isn't anything I can do to make it OK, but I'll begin slowly, and we can take it from there." Snape sounded rehearsed. He glanced at her crossed legs. "I would suggest you lie on your front."
Róisín scooted down the bed and lay with her face away from him. She shivered as his fingers gently brushed her tangled hair away from her neck. Her fly-away waves were usually gnarled and clumped at the end the day, and she worried how they looked now. Her skin prickled as he continued touching her, rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders.
"If I hurt you, you will inform me immediately." His tone was strict and formal, reminding her of his classroom demeanour.
"Yes, sir"
The professor increased the pressure on his hands as he moved them lower, messaging her upper back through her t-shirt.
"If I do something you don't…enjoy, you will tell me, understood?"
Róisín nodded her head against the bed covers.
"Miss Feral, please vocalise your answers, this is difficult enough without you acting coy."
"Sorry, sir, I understand."
Snape sighed.
"It is not necessary to address me as sir when you are lying on my bed."
"Ok," Róisín strained to make her voice steady.
"Unless that is what you would prefer." The implication hung in the air. "What I mean is you may speak and act in whatever way makes you comfortable."
"Yes, sir. Em… I mean…" Róisín's voice trailed off. His hands were at her waist now and his long fingers occasionally grasped her sides. She was overly aware of her own breathing.
"This isn't my classroom Miss Feral, there is no need to stay painfully silent, you may speak even when not spoken to."
"Oh, OK, sorry."
She could feel the muscles in his hands tense as he halted their movement. He's frustrated because you spent the evening crying on his bathroom floor and now you're on his bed shivering like a grengle caught in the beak of an occamy. He resumed his motions, his touch gentler than before. His hands were on her lower back, the part that always ached after a long day.
They moved lower. His fingers brushed under the bottom of her T-shirt and Róisín went rigid at the skin on skin contact.
"May I?" Snape's voice felt deep and close. Róisín bit her lip and gave a small nod. "Again, I would prefer verbal responses, especially when it concerns your consent."
"Yes," Róisín whispered.
She had expected him to pull her T-shirt up to expose the skin on her back, but it simply disappeared. Róisín flinched.
Nonverbal and wandless, well he is magically mature, surely wordlessly undressing witches are the least of his abilities. Her heart contracted tightly. I wonder what other tricks he has to impress women in bed…although I won't get to experience them, surely he won't bother with me. Her throat swelled. I'm just an obligation, a chore. She gulped and her swallow passed painfully over the lump in her throat. Her lip quivered. If you cry again it will be beyond mortifying. Pull yourself together.
Snape's hands stopped rubbing and rested on the bare skin of her back,
"Are you afraid?"
I'm terrified. Róisín stayed silent. She did not trust her voice not to break. The longer you keep quiet the worse it will be, just say something. She clenched her jaw so tightly she could feel the bones of her teeth compress. Say that he is the most intimidating man you've ever met, that you've felt nauseous entering his classroom every day for the past six years. Tell him you wanted your first time to be with someone who wanted you, that you want every time to be with someone who wants you. Tell him you feel so painfully inadequate it's as if every fibre in your heart tears with every breath. Tell him you would rather die than be-
The bed ignited. Róisín heard a hideous screech as the flames leapt and swirled around her.
"Suffocatur!" Snape bellowed. Róisín flew from the bed and landed with a thud on the floor. Snape's incantation sucked the fire together, as if a spherical vacuum had formed that only the flames could fill. The quivering ball of light hovered above the bed, grew smaller and brighter and vanished.
Róisín pulled herself to her feet. The pain was gone.
"Professor, what-"
Snape's wand disappeared up his sleeve as he turned to face her. He looked livid.
"I realise that this is difficult for you," he growled, his voice all the more terrifying for being so deathly quiet, "but you must show restraint, making objects burst into flames does not help your predicament."
"I did this?" Róisín gestured to the smouldering bed sheets and the blackened bed posts.
"You hardly believe I have a vendetta against my own bed."
I had imagined so many things that could go wrong tonight. This is worse than any of those things.
She examined the skin on her hands, stomach and arms. It was pink and tender, but unburnt.
"Why am I unharmed?"
Snape flicked his gaze up and down her body. Realizing she was in her bra, she made to cover herself. He flicked his hand and her T-shirt materialised onto her.
"It is near impossible to kill oneself with one's own magic directly," he explained.
"Oh, that makes sense. I'm… em… really, really sorry." Snape made no response.
I can only handle a certain amount of awkward silences in one day.
Róisín's words proceeded to stumble out of her, like a drunk falling down a staircase, accelerating as the damage increased,
"These days when I get stressed my magic just goes haywire, and I'm stressed all the time because I have all these… cravings which I can't control, I should've been more careful, I'm so, so sorry, I find it hard enough to be near men at all ever since all this sióg shite began, and you're so intimidating and I feel so bad that you are being forced to have sex with me, you must hate me and think me pathetic, I feel so disgusting, I wish I were anyone else in the world right now, I wish I weren't a weird nympho, it'd be better if I was pretty or something, but being a plain nympho is like, the worst."
Róisín took a deep breath. Never mind, another awkward silence would have been a lot better.
The expression on Snape's face suggested he was having the most tiring day of his life. He brought his hand up to rub his forehead and pinch the bridge of his nose.
"What would you like to drink?"
"Pardon, sir?"
"What would you like… to… drink?" He pronounced each word slowly as if she had difficulty with the English language.
"Oh, em, water?"
"Nothing stronger?"
"Eh… should I drink something stronger?"
Snape raised his eyes to heaven and left the room. He re-entered with what Róisín presumed was a firewhiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He handed the water to Róisín and clicked his fingers. A house elf apparated with a clap.
"Misty, we've had an accident, the bed clothes need to be changed."
The large green eyes of the house elf fluttered to the bed, then to Róisín and back again.
"Of course, Master Snape"
Misty had the burnt bedclothes replaced in an instant and apparated away. The only signs that anything strange had occurred were the charred bedposts and the smoky smell that clung to the air.
Snape grimaced and said,
"That house elf now thinks I'm a pyrophiliac." Róisín looked at him questioningly. "Someone who is aroused by the act of burning things," he added. Róisín let out a tiny snort of amusement and bit her lip. Snape smirked at her.
So he can smile.
Bashful, Róisín averted her gaze.
"Are you still going to … help me?"
"I would like to say we should wait, however, after your little display of pyrotechny, it appears that I do not have a choice, you are no longer safe." Róisín did not know if he meant she was no longer safe from herself, or that she was dangerous to others.
"So you will?"
"Yes"
"Tonight?"
"This morning at this rate," Snape muttered.
"As in now?"
He arched an eyebrow,
"I was not planning on taking you this instant, no." His use of the outdated phrase "to take" made her stomach twist, reminding her of the cultural gulf between them. "For this to go smoothly, if that is at all possible given the circumstances, you will need a little more... groundwork." He gestured to McGonagall's armchairs, "Sit."
Róisín sat and sipped at her water. Snape settled into the chair opposite her and lifted his face to the ceiling, his eyes closed as though he were praying for strength. The movement was not Snape-like, it was too… normal. Róisín watched him apprehensively. She could not lie and pretend he was handsome; his features were too narrow, his nose too big and hooked, his hair too lank, but he looked somehow… attractive. His sleeves were rolled up over his strong forearms covered in black hair. She knew he was powerful, and intelligent. He's also short-tempered and cruel, she reminded herself. Although he hasn't been cruel to me tonight. Snape took a drink of firewhiskey before setting his dark eyes on her. Róisín blushed.
"I am not being forced to have sex with you, I have been convinced to." His tone implied that no one forced him to do anything. "In truth, I am fortunate to be the one to help you." At Róisín's raised eyebrows he added, "Because it may enhance my ability to do magic, not because I have any desire to bed a student." She lowered her gaze. "I mean no insult to your person Miss Feral, you... have no reason to feel inadequate. With regards to the… symptoms you lamented earlier, they should lessen considerably after tonight. Then you'll feel comfortable around your male colleagues again."
The blush spread from Róisín's cheeks down her neck.
A/N: Please let me know what you think, reading reviews makes my day :D
Note for non-British English speakers:
Irish people sometimes say "shite" instead of "shit".
"To hoover" means to "to vacuum" in British English.