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Here's a quick reminder of where we last left off....
His body immediately froze, his breathing stopped, at the sudden realization of what he was actually doing to her, and himself. Blinking his eyes in an attempt to clear his tempered vision, Severus focused his gaze back upon the frail woman in his arms, now trembling and weeping under his wrath. What has he done? An intense, harrowing pain suddenly erupted in his chest, as Claira's fallen tears trickled down to his fingertips. It was not an unfamiliar emotion, but certainly one that did not frequent him often. Remorse.
His harsh features instantly softened, while his thumb moved to wipe her sodden cheeks. Leaning forward, Severus tenderly kissed her swollen eyelids, tasting the salty pain he had caused with his carelessness; never again will he force his hand upon her. Lowering his mouth further, he quietly whispered his apology against her lips, before claiming them as proof of his sincerity. Her body suddenly stiffened as he did so, but relaxed as he folded his arms around her. It was a strange sensation, to hold her so close without sexual purpose. It was, by far, the most intimate embrace he had ever engaged in.
Unable to speak, Claira laid her head upon his shoulder, pressing her body into the warmth and comfort he now offered. Silently she sobbed, wishing tonight had never been. Severus had shown her a different side of himself, a wicked side that she did not care to know, or ever see again. It was the deatheater within him; the diablerie that he once practiced, enforced, thrived upon. Which was his true self? She had to know, her heart had to know, and only time could tell her the answer.
Chapter: 28
Try as she might, Claira could not convince her eyes to rest. Around her chambers they roamed, tracing the narrow crevices in the ceiling above, following the ballet of dancing shadows, spinning and twirling upon their stonewall stage. Slowly, her dreary gaze drifted towards the window. Through the white winter haze, she could just make out December's midnight stars, its crescent moon, shining like a beacon amidst the cold dark morrow. Beneath the thick layer of sheets dressing her bed, Claira's body shivered. Her breath exhaled weakly, keeping close rhythm to the fragile beat of her aching heart. How could Severus be so cruel to her? So uncaring? His hurtful words looped circles in her mind. All the places his coarse fingers had been, throbbed painfully, in torturous reminder of his brutality. She should have nothing further to do with him. He was dangerous. Frightfully unstable. What secret evil lay hidden within the depths of his cavernous heart? Should she even dare seek it out?
Turning to her nightstand, Claira instinctually reached for the drawer handle, and gave it a light tug. Slipping her hand inside, she carefully worked the aged box lid open and withdrew the rose Severus had gifted her the month before. Tenderly placing it on the pillow beside her, she gently caressed its petals and stared onto its beauty, eyes full of deep contemplation. Was this not a symbol of possible affections? A small token of kindness? Perhaps even a promise that there was still some good left within his blackened heart? What if she were to find its source of light, persuade it forth, so that it overpowered the darkness? It was there; she had seen it before. Its radiance shone brightly amongst their first shared kiss. It had torched her very heart, that night in the infirmary, when he held her so close in his arms. She could feel it, each and every time he pulled her into the glow of his embrace--its brilliance warmed her body with such intensity, that it set the inner sanctums of her soul ablaze. Yes, the light was definitely there. If only she could draw it out... she could change him, mold him into the man she knew he could be, the man she so desperately wanted--And God, how she wanted him. Her feelings for Severus far surpassed the primal stages of infatuation; she knew this now. No longer could she deny the love she felt for him. The very power of it consumed the entirety of her thoughts, her dreams. It was this same, overwhelming feeling that prompted her womanly conquest, her search for the light that only faith, patience, and love could ever achieve.
Lowering her head to the pillow, Claira closed her eyes and welcomed the holy graces of sleep; heaven only knows of the peril, and hardship, the new day's dawn will bring....
Claira awoke the next morning to a lovely floral fragrance. Smiling at its pleasantry, she opened her eyes, greeted by soft, scarlet petals. The rose, still lie on her pillow, in the exact same condition in which she had left it the night before. Perfect. As always, its beauty was everlasting.
Slowly sitting up, she lazily glanced around the room. Through the thin cloud of mist of her breath, she could see that the fire was doused, and there was an icy chill in the air. Perhaps it was safe to assume that winter has finally come? Quickly darting her eyes toward the window, she gasped, then flew from her bed to get a better view. Her windowpane, the once lush green grass, the treetops, and mountain peaks, were all glistened with.... SNOW! Giggling in excitement, Claira rushed over to her wardrobe and tore through her clothing collection to find the proper "snow frolicking" attire. Snatching out a pair of thick blue jeans and red knit sweater, she hastily dressed, paid a short visit to her bathroom, and then dashed out the door.
Through the double doors leading to the castle grounds, she sped. Racing down the large marble steps, Claira clumsily tripped over her own footing, and dove face first into a huge pile of cold, wet snow. Snorting with laughter, she flapped her arms and legs out, gifting the frozen earth with a perfectly sculpted snow angel. Afterwards, she rose to her feet and slowly brushed herself off, while gawking in awe at her gorgeous surroundings. The world around her was beautifully gowned in gleaming, white dressings. Spectacular, could not even begin to describe the amazing visual painted before her. Young children, decked in colorful scarves and mittens, danced joyously about--the wonderful feeling of Christmas was finally upon them.
With a wide grin stricken across her cheeks, Claira withdrew her wand, charmed her body with a warming spell, then quickly set off to join a few of the students in a friendly game of snowball. She chose to side with Gryffindor, whom, kindly accepted her into their battle fold. And soon, she was engaged in a most thrilling war of House rivalry.
Ducking behind a small boulder, Claira successfully dogged a pummeling snowball to her head, scooped up a healthy chunk of ammo, and then threw it "grenade-style" at the opposing force. Daring a peak, she witnessed her snowball strike one of the Slytherin foes directly in the face-- he shouldn't have looked up just then, foolish boy! Snickering in triumph, she made to collect another round, when a slight movement to her right caught her attention.
Glancing over, Claira immediately froze still. Her heart began to flutter violently in her chest at the stunning visual of Professor Snape exiting the greenhouse. His long, black robes and raven-colored hair greatly contrasted their winter surroundings, accentuating his already dominate form; simply breathtaking. In his arms, he held an abundance of tiny green boxes, all containing potion ingredients, no doubt. Did the man ever stop working? He truly needed to relax, take a break--have a little fun! A wicked smirk suddenly pierced Claira's lips. Abandoning her post, she quickly snuck off across the field, appointing herself a new target to pelt... the sexy Head of Slytherin!
Meanwhile....
Severus sneered his way across the snow-covered meadow. The very sound of laughter and cheer, made his stomach churn in disgust; far too many memories of humiliation, and embarrassment, surrounded this detestable season. Scowling down at the mockery earth, he purposely stomped on a lonely winter flower, crushing its delicate petals beneath the heel of his boot, before continuing on his journey towards Hogwarts castle. When suddenly, and seemingly out of nowhere, a large snowball whizzed past his left ear, grazing the very tip of it with icy slosh.
Whipping around, Severus glared angrily into the deserted field beyond. The students, all appeared to be at a distance, proving it impossible for their aim to extend past Hagrid's hut. Darting his eyes about suspiciously, he carried on, grumbling every private slur and foul name his tongue could fathom.
A few moments later, another snowball was sent wheeling his way; this time, hitting him on the back of the head with a loud, wet splatter. The force of it caused him to drop his bundle, spilling the plants he collected onto the sodden ground below. Spitting mad curses, he knelt down and quickly captured the escaping bowtruckles, which were all attempting to flee towards the safety of the Dark Forest. Shoving them back into their caged boxes, he promptly sealed the lids shut, while his already seething temper flared into a raging bonfire.
Standing, Severus furiously spun on his heel, moistening his lips in preparation for the lifelong detention he was about to bestow upon the little bastard who caused him all this aggravation; accident or not!
Claira giggled impishly, as she ran and ducked for cover behind a large willow tree. Its enormous trunk, generously shielded her from view, which she used to her full advantage to keep herself hidden. Scooping up another snowball, she quietly snuck around the bark, peeking through its thick branches in order to spy on Severus. That's when her heart suddenly dropped. And her eyes widened in disbelief as she discovered him gone. Creeping out further, she tore her gaze around the vacant lot, her panicky gape desperately searching the snow for his whereabouts. She noticed his boxes were still sprawled across the ground. Where the devil could he possibly be?
That question, was soon answered, as Claira heard a loud, agitated growl of disapproval sound just behind her. Whirling about to face him, her mouth instantly dropped open. Why hadn't she noticed his enormous height before? And his eyes, both resembling two blackened orbs, frightened her, as they stared down upon her, hell-bent on seeking revenge. No wonder all the students feared him so; he was absolutely terrifying!
Severus' wrathful glare immediately softened. And his temper subsided quickly, when he found the perpetrator to be Claira. At the same time, sharp pangs of guilt began to assault his chest--in painful reminder of the inexcusable way he had treated her the night before. Try as he might, he could not justify his actions; only hope they had not caused any lasting damage to her already fragile trust. Clenching his fists in a strenuous effort to relieve his previous frustration, he cleared his throat, and spoke in a cool, calm voice.
"My dear, aren't we a bit old to be practicing such adolescent pranks? Now, be a good little girl and put down that snow--"
SPLAT!
His speech was suddenly cut short as Claira hurled a large fistful of snow at him, successfully hitting him in the chest with a startling blow... He supposed he deserved that.
Brushing away the slushy mess from his robes, Severus lifted his gaze, only to discover Claira vengefully balling another round in her hands.
"Claira, really, haven't we had enough fun for--"
SPLAT!
She threw the second snowball, this time, sashaying his crotch. Now THAT was wholly uncalled for!
"Now see here, woman. If you do not cease this foolishness immediately, I'll-Claira--Don't!"
SPLAT!
"And what exactly, Professor," Claira began to tease, while scooping up another chunk of sloshed ice to throw. "ARE you going to do about it?"
Severus quickly ducked, to avoid the forth snowball that was promptly launched at his head.
The girl had been warned.
Claira squealed girlishly, as Severus charged through the snow at her, his large, black cloak billowing angrily behind him in the breeze. Sniggling, she set off towards the willow tree, kicking up frozen earth as she rounded its middle. Stooping low, she attempted to retrieve another snowball. But he was far too close....
In the next instant, Severus had caught Claira's tiny frame in his arms, and swiftly tackled her to the ground. Pinning her wrists together with one of his hands, he quickly scooped up a palm full of snow with the other, and smashed it in her face. Ignoring her dainty screams and playful cries for help, he shoveled up another bit, and followed the same torturous procedure.
Her sudden chimes of laughter, sounded very much like the symphonious tunes of forgiveness; it was certainly music to Severus' ears. And although he hadn't immediately acknowledged it, he soon discovered himself to be laughing along as well. It truly was a silly game-- one, he never would have partaken in, if he weren't absolutely certain that no one had a proper view of his ridiculous behavior. He had a reputation to uphold, after all.
It didn't take long, for Severus to become perversely aware of just how erotic all the wiggling and squirming Claira's body was performing beneath his. Pointless as it were, she seemed to be very persistent in her struggle to be set free. Her mischievous grin, however, told him that she had no real hopes or intentions of escaping. Which, didn't truly matter, for he hadn't any immediate plans of letting her go; he was thoroughly enjoying himself at the moment. Gently brushing the spattered snow from her face, he took a private moment to admire her beauty, marveling at the way the sun's light revealed the crystal blue texture in her eyes; simply gorgeous. And her tainted lips, molested by the frosty wind, were stained a ravishing strawberry red--even her pink nose and cheeks were becoming.
A low chuckle, suddenly rumbled in Severus' throat, as his gaze drifted to her hair. Which, was in a right state of mess. But he fancied it that way. He could just imagine how it might look sprawled out across his pillow; this of course, after a long night of hot, vivacious sex.
Sneering inwardly, Severus privately scolded himself for thinking such amative thoughts, as it provoked an immediate response in his trousers. At the same time, he watched Claira's mouth form a warm, coy smirk...So she noticed. And in doing so, attempted to take advantage of his little distraction by slipping one of her wrists out of his loosened grip. He instantly countered her move by snatching it back up with his free hand, while raising both of her arms above her head in a most compromising position. Refocusing his attention on the game, Severus lowered his voice and spoke in a deep, dangerous tone.
"Whatever are you to do now, fair maiden?"
He reveled in the way her eyes lit up amongst his larkish challenge.
"Hmmm, well, being as though you're my captor, I think I should be the one asking YOU that question," Claira hummed back, while moving her hips beneath his, tenaciously, in welcomed foreplay.
Severus immediately caught on, obliging her body's request by teasing her inner thighs with his hardened bulge.
"So I see. Then I suppose I should offer you one final request; before I have my way with you, that is. Lucky for you, wench, I am feeling quite charitable this morning." He found himself growing ever more aroused by her continuous squirm and false struggling.
"You are too generous, my lord," Claira teased softly. "But I do have one last wish, actually."
"Oh? Do tell," Severus inquired smoothly, his brow raised ever so slightly in interest.
"A kiss," she whispered, her cheeks suddenly blushing a deep scarlet. "But, not just any kiss. I want a kiss that puts all others to shame."
An amused, almost delighted smirk played at Severus' lips. His day, thus far, appeared to be working out, greatly, in his favor.
"I see. Well, I must say, that is a rather demanding request; I don't recall ever receiving one quite so onerous. Mind you, I'll need a moment to think it over," he lightly bantered, while his eyes playfully scanned her enticing features. They fell upon her savory cream complexion, her deliciously, elegant jaw line, her candy red lips, which were currently beaconing his tongue for a taste....
"Granted," he finally answered, his voice tumbling in a deep, velvety tone.
Lowering his mouth, Severus gently brushed his lips across hers, sampling their salty sweetness with his tongue, before exploring their full, voluptuous contour. Claira parted them invitingly, and he slowly, provocatively, began suckling at her bottom lip. She lightly nipped at his top, and they both moaned, in sync, at the fantastic sensation of their mouths purging together.
Nibbling, licking, and teasing commenced, until Severus could no longer stand the suspense, and swiftly moved to deepen the kiss. Sensual were their tongues, as they met and privately swirled about, dancing successively in a hot, wet tango. So impassioned were they, that the rest of their bodies became jealous, wanting to seduce their adjoining partners as well. And so they did.
Releasing his grip on her wrists, Severus carefully slid his hands beneath her back, while wrapping his arms around her tightly. Claira, in favorable response, folded her own around his neck, pulling, and urging him down even closer. It felt fantastic. And a deep growl suddenly thundered in his throat, as her stroking fingers entwined through his hair, exploring its sleek texture with the delicacy of silk. The sensation was new, incredibly erotic, and oh so arousing. Good Merlin! It was insane to want a woman so badly, so desperately. He would do anything to have her--anything, short of engaging himself in a nonconsensual act, that is. Severus wanted Claira to be just as willing, just as wanting as he. But the wait was excruciating, and the tight constriction in his pants, painful. He feared that prolonged exposure to such torture as this might very well cause him to forsake all his previous vows of virtue. Each pleasurable moan that escaped her warm, lecherous lips, stripped away another layer of his sanity, leaving only the nudity of sin to control his actions. He had better pull away soon.... God give him strength.
Both bodies were left trembling in the wake of their stilling hips, the withdrawal of their tongues, and the final parting of their mouths. Struggling to catch her breath, Claira closed her eyes, cherishing every moment of Severus' insatiable kiss. And after what seemed like an eternity of silent bliss, she slowly reopened them, allowing her gaze to be captured within the shackles of his dark, hungry stare. There, she discovered the true meaning of lust, of passion; but also found that soft shimmer of light she so desperately longed to possess. So full of love and want, Claira's heart felt as though it were about to explode. Should she confess her feelings? Could Severus possibly be feeling the same as she? What if he didn't? The very thought of his rejection, pained her heart and kept her lips sealed tight. She would wait. Wait, until that perfect moment when she was certain he would return her words of love and adoration... but when? How will she know?
Severus, quietly watched Claira's eyes shift from a bright, sparkling turquoise, to a dark, tantalizing blue. His voice instantly caught in his throat, as he gazed down upon her. Never before, has anyone looked onto him with such yearning, such want. And yet, there was something else there as well... but what exactly? He wasn't entirely certain. Despite the numerous accusations, he did not possess the ability to read minds, per se. With the assistance of a spell, he could view her memories. But what good would that do? It would tell him nothing of her current thoughts, or inner feelings. Although, a small dose of Veritaserum may very well do the trick. And it just so happens that he had a vial of it stashed away in his robe pocket, brewed special, to accommodate just such occasions....
"Or, you can save yourself a sure fire ticket to hell, and try ASKING her first. How difficult is that? You know, sometimes, I think you rather enjoy being a conniving, malefic bastard," interrupted his obnoxious inner voice.
Snorting inwardly at his conscience, Severus couldn't help but agree that his sinister intentions, more often than not, far exceeded the necessary requirements to gain certain knowledge. And true, he can't simply drug the girl whenever he pleases, tempting as it were.
Raising a tender hand to Claira's flushed face, he gently stroked her blushing cheek, whilst his mouth lightly brushed across her swollen lips with each spoken word.
"A sickle for your thoughts, my lady?"
Claira's eyes suddenly widened. Panic, coursed through her veins like a powerful river of dread. Oh God! He was waiting for her to answer, his dark, gorgeous eyes looking onto her expectantly. In that moment, Claira could not bring herself to lie. However, she could not bring herself to tell him the truth either. Not now. Not yet.
"Its just that-I--I've missed you, Severus. I miss the time we spend together, even if it is just to test potions," she responded softly. So it wasn't the ENTIRE truth, but it certainly wasn't a lie. She simply allowed her heart to confess a small portion of its secret.
Severus had to admit, he was beginning to feel a loss for the girl as well; particularly on the nights their testing sessions were to be held. Too many times, he had caught himself gazing about his study, resting his eyes on all the empty places where she once had been. From his work desk, he could just envision her beautiful figure sprawled out across his leather sofa. Rolling around, on the antique rug by the fire. Sitting politely still, in the velvet armchair just opposite from where he sat... Her memory was a true entity, haunting his mind with both intimate and erotic fantasies--some real, though mostly fabricated.
However powerful as these revelations were, Severus had no intentions of sharing them with her. Not now. Not ever. They were too private, too personal, and would only paint him weak--not to mention, foolish; both of which, he certainly was not. But how could he possibly deny her the romantic response she so desperately sought after? Though she hadn't said, her blazing blue eyes, so hopeful, so expectant, told all. It was to be, yet another unread chapter in her vast novel of courting rituals. What could he possibly say, short of the truth, that might earn him some merit? Each wrong word counted as a thousand, he learned; his previous blunders had taught him that much.
With the moment rapidly drifting into awkward silence, Severus knew he had to say something encouraging. So he swallowed the lump in his throat, licked his lips, and blurted out the first suitable response his mind could conjure.
"Our weekly sessions will begin again soon. I have plenty of draughts for you to test, Claira. So you needn't worry."
"Oh. Good. That's... that's good to know," Claira murmured in disappointment, her hands suddenly slipping from around his neck.
With a furrowed brow of dismay, Severus watched her sullen eyes fall to his chest, tracing the contours of his collar as if its buttons held some sort of captivating interest. Dammit! He had obviously chosen the wrong words... but which ones were the right? Did Claira not just admit that she misses the nights they spend together on potion experiments? His assurance on their continuation, in all essence, should have rendered her happy. However, his declamation appeared to have had the opposite affect....
"You idiot! Think. Perhaps the girl wishes to see you ASIDE from the testing sessions. Possibly, on a more intimate basis, WITHOUT having to swallow poisons as an excuse to do so."
Impossible. After his behavior last night, why would she? Why would anybody? No one has ever wanted to spend time with him, not without some type of compensation for it anyway. Try as he might, however, he could not ignore the fiery passion burning in her eyes; nor the way she touched him, kissed him, as if he were something desirable, an object worthy of possession. But what was Claira's motivation? He was certain she knew nothing of his family's wealth, or his personal fortune--so it could not be gold she was after. And he was no longer a deatheater; so it was not power she sought. Could the girl actually be sincere? Did she truly feel this way for him?
Softly cupping Claira's chin in his hand, Severus gently lifted her gaze back upon him, determined to sort out the answer. Perhaps a subtle proposal would be an appropriate way to begin.
"Your visits to my study, Claira, are not restricted to invitation only. Although my workload prevents me from investing much time in anything else at the moment, you are certainly welcome to make use of my quarters--in any way you see fit. Furthermore, its walls currently hold an extensive assortment of literary classics, apart from my personal collection of reference tombs. The whole of which, I think you would find quite fascinating; that is, if you cared to humor the read."
Brow raised steeply in apprehension, Severus vigorously scanned her features, hoping to discover some semblance of intrigue, some sign that he had not made a complete ass out of himself by granting her full access to his chambers.
A deep ocean of wonder, was all her eyes revealed. Silent were her lips, though parted slightly as if appalled by his offering. What a fool he was, to assume his dank, dreary dungeon... life, could possible hold her attention long enough to be considered interesting. How daft was he? How delirious?
"That sounds wonderful. When shall I--I mean, if I were to visit your study, what would be a suitable time for me to come? I don't want to disturb you... if you're too busy."
How absolutely GENIUS! Severus thought, as he wallowed in the excitement and anticipation now swirling in Claira's bright blue eyes. What a little beauty she was. He could just envision her tiny, nude body pinned beneath his on the leather sofa; possibly on his bed, though he seriously doubted he could make that far a journey. However, the soft, sheik rug by the fire would do quite nicely. His mouth, instantly curved into a wicked smirk, as he covertly began to plot and formulate a plan.
"You may come and go, whenever you please. But note, it is somewhat habitual for me to tend to my study after dinner hours; tonight in particular, as I do have a few remaining scrolls of research to complete. However, it is nothing of dear importance, or anything that your presence would disturb. In fact...." He paused to tenderly brush away a wild strand of hair from her cheek. "I could do with a bit of company this evening. So, would it be safe for me to assume that you will be joining me then? Say, seven?"
Claira's heart immediately began to thump patterns in her chest. Her breathing, ceased momentarily at the realization of his words. He was inviting her to his rooms! No potions. No set curfews to abide by--Just he and her, ALONE. She could barely control her excited tongue, as it was already moving to form an agreeable response.
"Yes, of course. Seven is... perfect," Claira whispered breathlessly.
"Excellent," Severus murmured against her lips, before claiming them in a seductive preview of things yet to come--to hell with his research. It can wait till morning; that is, unless Claira is still with him when the sun rises. He can only hope.
Ending the kiss with a soft growl, Severus slowly climbed to his feet, while extended Claira a helping hand. Pulling her up to a standing position, he carefully brushed the snow away from her clothing, as well as his own, before bidding her a final farewell.
"How fortunate for you that I have other obligations to attend to. Otherwise, I would not have hesitated to punish you proper," Severus playfully teased, whilst slipping his arms around her waist. Pulling her close in a tight embrace, he glided his mouth across her lips, unable to get enough of her sweet taste and unquenchable kisses.
"Until tonight," he purred in promise, finalizing the encounter with a slow, wet swirl. After which, he promptly spun on his heel, and made to collect the boxes he had abandoned earlier.
Claira silently watched him walk away, admiring his graceful stride with lusty eyes and an appreciative smile. His movements were so smooth, so calculated, and yet masculine enough to be considered sexy. The man had style; she had to give him that. And those tailored robes, screamed taste of the costly sort. 'He spared no expense when it came to dress,' she mentally noted with an adorned smirk. Sighing contently, she stared after him a little longer, before turning and making her way back to the snowball fight. She needed a distraction to keep her mind occupied; the evening's wait was sure to drive her completely mad.
Severus tried his best to conceal the grin playing at the corner of his mouth, as he traveled along the snowy path leading back to the castle. Excitement, tickled his very muse with the certainty that tonight, was THE night. Claira was finally ready to submit to him; he could feel it. Perhaps a long, hot shower before her arrival is in order. And his bed sheets will definitely need to be serviced properly. He'll have to inform the house elves to do a thorough once over on his rooms as well. They were already tidy enough, but a second, more in-depth cleaning wouldn't hurt; everything must be perfect. No disturbances. Albus has a nasty habit of interrupting at the most inopportune times--the door will have to be warded. He should probably practice his hand at various contraceptive charms as well. It has been quite some time since he last performed...
A flash of green light suddenly interrupted his scheming mind, as it came streaming across the grounds toward him. It was a misguided curse--one that missed the tip of his nose by mere inches. Dammit! He hadn't the time for such insolence; certain preparations had to be made. Hissing slurs, he whirled about wearing his most intimidating Professor Snape sneer, set to weed out the little prat who dared disturb his thoughts.... They will receive severe punishment for casting an unwarranted spell whilst in his presence as well.
Glaring around the child-plagued field, he scanned the centerfold, immediately spotting two boys engaged in an illegal duel. One of them, he recognized to be Charlie Banks, a Gryffindor third year. And the other, was Blake Healey, a fourth year Slytherin. Sighing in contempt, Severus trudged through the ankle-deep snow after them, fiercely spitting curses against the thought of having to deduct yet another House point from Slytherin; they were already well behind Gryffindor in the running for House Cup. A chivalrous matter, Minerva never failed to address, or gloat about, when presented with the opportunity. Perhaps he can provoke Mr. Banks into earning a few extra decrements, for his cheek. There will be a fifty-point penalty, if he dare even blink at him the wrong way.
Nearly in scolding range, Severus cleared his throat, ready to reprimand the boys. When suddenly, Banks conjured a surprisingly accurate disarming spell.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" he shouted. The tip of his wand instantly glowed a bright scarlet, as it sent a streak of light speeding towards its target.
The spell successfully hit its mark, slamming into the chest of the other boy. Healey was immediately knocked backwards, though somehow managed to keep hold on his wand. During his fall, he attempted to strike his opponent with one final curse.
"PER...BISITUS...TOOOTALUS!" His words were heavily flawed by the impact of his back hitting solid earth. And yet, his wand still lit up, and flashed a beam of purple light through the cold, misty air. Its direction held no purpose, no particular destination. It simply hurled down the field, past Banks, past Professor Snape, who quickly stepped out of its screeching path with an angry scowl.
Severus mindfully watched the curse fly by, quickly turning his head in an attempt to follow its path across the inhabited meadow....
The world then, became laggard. Its components, all moving in slow motion like some hellish nightmare. Before he could move, shout a warning, breath even, the curse had broke through a small assembly of children, only to plow straight into Claira's breast. The snowball she held, crumbled between her fingers, as her listless body slumped to the ground. Every fiber of Severus' being, became numb, and his limbs, immobile. All he could do was stare at her lifeless form, slightly buried beneath the snow laid field.
A small crowd of students began to circle around, shrieking and poking at her with their wands. A few of them, the more intelligible of the bunch, flagged their arms in the air, signaling a need for help. Forcing himself to move, Severus stumbled towards the scene, his legs stubbornly refusing to cooperate with his brain. His heart was pounding louder than his footsteps; which, thankfully, seemed to increase in speed as he neared the horde of shouting children. Charging through their barrier, he recklessly shoved them out of the way, while dropping to his knees beside Claira.
His initial evaluation, revealed nothing of her current ailment; there were no visual fallacies, disfigurements, or anything near the sort. Her flesh was slightly paled, but he was certain that was due to the cold climate. No, the only change he could see in her appearance was her tightly closed eyelids. Quickly placing his hand on her cheek, he breathed a sigh of relief. Her skin was still warm and soft. Lowering his ear to her mouth, he attempted to assess her breathing, but failed. The students' loud, blaring voices were too distracting.
"SILENCE," Severus roared, then pressed his ear to her lips and nostrils once more. She was breathing. And doing so, quite normally. Which overthrew his previous assumption that she had been hexed with a simple sleeper charm.
"Claira," he called softly.
No response.
"Claira," he chimed again, this time, shaking her slightly.
Still no response.
What the devil was wrong with the girl? Not a thing, so it appeared. And yet she wasn't moving, nor answering his address. He was baffled, to say the least. A curse cannot be countered unless one knows its origin. And he knew nothing of this curse. It was foreign, possibly a new hex derived from the stupidity of the boy's blunder. Panic, slowly began to seep through his veins. Lifting his gaze, he impatiently searched the crowd, unable to locate the face he needed; Healey held the key to this mystery in his robe pocket.
"Where the devil is Mr. Healey?" Severus shouted angrily at the students.
"He's gone, sir."
"Yeah, took off when he saw you coming over here."
"Right coward, if you ask me."
The group suddenly erupted into a noisy fit of accusations and gossip. Growling loudly in frustration, Severus hissed a dangerous word of silence. They immediately abided. He then scanned the crowd for a few reliable students to assist him.
"Jordan, go and inform Madam Pomfrey of the situation; have her prepare for our arrival."
The boy quickly ran off towards the castle.
"Parkinson, I need you to find Mr. Healey," Severus instructed sternly. "Bring him to the infirmary, immediately."
"Yes, sir." The plump girl nodded, then set off on her quest.
"The rest of you, back to your dormitories."
Everyone grumbled slurs beneath their breaths, before scattering about to collect their belongings.
Centering the whole of his attention back on Claira, Severus carefully scooped her up in his arms, hugging her close to his chest as though she were a valuable possession. And so she was. Perhaps even more than he dared to admit. But, the girl did save his life once, so it only seemed fit that he should return the favor. This was his logic, his excuse, if anyone were to question his motives for taking such care.
The journey through the ocean of snow was excruciating. Thank Merlin, Claira's small, slender frame rendered her light to carry. Looking ahead, Severus released a long, laborious breath; he couldn't remember Hogwarts ever being at so far a distance. What warped dream is this? It seemed as if every step he took, lead him further away from the castle. Her hot breath against his neck, however, was proof of its reality, and he forced himself to ignore the delusion. His vision was simply distorted by confusion. Only minutes ago, Claira had lie beneath him, laughing vibrantly, and gifting his lips with sweet, seductive kisses. Now, she lay spiritless in his arms; the evening's promise, broken and shattered.
========@=======@=======@=======@=======@========
After what seemed like an eternity of travel, Severus finally reached the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was awaiting their arrival in the corridor, door held open, and eyes wide with worry.
"Oh my! The poor dear is soaked to the brim! Hurry Severus, bring her inside," she ordered, already beginning to poke and prod at her as he swept under the archway.
He quickly followed Poppy to the cot nearest the fire, whispering private words of comfort in Claira's ear, before carefully lying her down on top of it. Taking a step back, he withdrew his wand, and cast upon himself a drying spell that successfully relieved his drenched robes of all its melted snow. Unfortunately, he could not do the same for Claira. Mixing incantations, especially ones that are thought to be foreign, may end up causing more harm than good; only counter curses will be able to be performed on the girl.
"Thank you, Severus. I realize how busy you must be, considering all the work you've been putting in for the conference lately. Perhaps Professor Silverstone can assist me with the counter hexes; I do believe we may be dealing with black magic here," Madam Pomfrey exasperated, while chafing Claira's damp hair with a warm, dry towel.
"I hardly think that will be necessary, Poppy." Severus spoke briskly, while shrugging off his cloak and vest.
Madam Pomfrey watched in astonishment, as he tossed his robes aside, rolled up his sleeves, and approached Claira's bedside with a set jaw. He was obviously determined to stay. Since when did he ever care about anyone other than himself? Who was this man? And what has he done with Severus Snape?
"You know as well as I, Teresa's textbook education is primitive to my skilled knowledge of the Dark Arts. And with Dumbledore off meddling in Ministry affairs, you'll be needing a well rounded hand of experience," Severus informed her curtly, purposely avoiding her stare by shifting through a batch of remedies cluttering the medicine trolley nearby. Lifting the vials, he immediately began discarding the useless potions, while meticulously arranging the potentially curable sort into neatly stacked rows.
"I daresay... your help will certainly be appreciated," she regarded him kindly, before lowering her attention back to Claira. A brief, yet efficient examination left her just as baffled as Severus.
"Whatever this curse is, it does not appear to be of any immediate threat; her vital signs all read normal. This is very peculiar, indeed," she explained, while tapping her finger on her chin. "Well, I think the first action should be to remove these soppy clothes of hers--the poor girl must be freezing. Then, we can begin administering the counter curses."
Madam Pomfrey immediately set to work stripping Claira of her shoes, socks, and pants.
Severus did the same for her knit sweater and under-lying shirt, his hands stopping just short of the thin, silk fabric concealing her breasts. Stealing a quick glance around, he gingerly lowered his gaze to the rest of her body, secretly admiring her soft, feminine curves and milky, white skin. Clenching his teeth, he tried to control the anger swelling inside, provoked by thoughts of the night ahead, and what it may have held in store.
Forcing his mind back to the task at hand, he carefully worked his fingers beneath the clasp of her bra, and unfastened it. Pulling the fabric apart, he nearly had her nipples in view when....
SMACK!
His hands were promptly slapped away by Madam Pomfrey. Who, was currently glaring up at him suspiciously, her eyes casting false accusations of the deepest, most darkest malice. His mouth immediately formed a defensive, tight-lipped sneer. And a new fury rose in his chest, causing his own eyes to narrow, and voice to deepen.
"Don't you look at me like that, Madam. I am no pervert. I assure you, I had no intentions of molesting the girl. Besides, its not as if I haven't already seen her breasts--" He quickly bit his tongue. "A naked female before."
"Not this one you haven't! And don't you think for one minute that I'm just going to stand by and allow her vulnerability to be your excuse. Now, turn around," she huffed, her hands sternly placed on her hips to compliment her spoiled mood.
"No, I don't think I will." Severus folded his arms in sheer defiance, refusing to be treated like some depraved villain. "How dare you make such accusations! I was simply removing her wet clothing, as per your orders. I cannot help it if she's nude beneath them. What exactly did you expect me not to see? And where the devil is all this anger coming from?"
Poppy's features, briefly softened, as her gaze dropped to Claira's face.
"Not anger, Severus. Concern. Claira has become very dear to me. And I do not wish to see her get hurt over this," she finally admitted in a hushed voice; she had waited several months to tell him so.
"Over what, precisely?" Severus hissed, attempting to keep his voice down in case Claira's hearing had not been affected by the curse.
Madam Pomfrey's head suddenly snapped up, her eyes reprimanding him before her tongue even had time to catch up.
"You know very well what I mean. You. Her. It's obvious that there is something going on between the two of you. And I don't like it," she warned, in a stout, motherly voice.
"Perhaps there is. Although I fail to see where that is any of your business," Severus spat back shrewdly. The room was beginning to grow quite uncomfortable beneath their heated conversation. And it was far to intimate for his liking.
"I think of Claira as one of my own. And I am certain that she feels the same for me, in a motherly fashion of course. So when your selfish antics leave her heartbroken, it will then become my business!"
"What in Merlin's name are you carrying on about?" Severus hadn't the slightest clue. Or so he thought. Or rather, pretended.
"I may be prone to this infirmary, Severus, but I do venture OUT upon occasion." Her fierce gaze, seemed to reflect certain thoughts of their past, as did the tone of her voice. Her meaning was well understood.
Severus quickly averted his eyes. His hands, fumbled recklessly at the potion bottles he had previously arranged. Of all the bloody times to bring THAT matter up, why must it be this one? His ears began to burn slightly, at the memory of their chance encounter two years back. It was midsummer, and Dumbledore, without his knowledge, offered to watch the hospital, while Madam Pomfrey accompanied the other female staff members to Hogsmeade; ladies night out, so to say. Luck be damned, their womanly escapades lead them straight to the Hog's Head. Where, he had currently been involved in less than plausible activities upstairs. Their presence remained unknown to him; until of course, he exited the travelers' loft. Following closely behind him, were not one, but three of the tavern's harlots, whose services he had just rendered. Discretion, had not been a practice of the novice whores, as they plagued his cheeks with farewell kisses, and flaunted their satchels of gold about for all in the pub to see. Amidst his departure, he had regrettably caught Madam Pomfrey's eye, as well as the disgusted expression on her face; it will forever be etched in his mind. He has not visited the Tavern since. Nor did he ever plan to.... there were other, more chary establishments, should the need arise.
"Yes, well, Claira is fully capable of handling herself. She does what she wishes, and nothing she does not. Should she want to spend her free time with me, then I certainly will not be the one to stop her." His voice suddenly lowered to an almost threatening tone. "And neither will you."
"That may be true," Poppy grudgingly agreed, while staring down at Claira grimly. "I just don't see why you have to bother with her at all. Surely there are plenty of OTHER women you can indulge yourself in."
"That will be quite enough, woman! I do not seek your opinion, or approval on this matter. It is private, and will remain so." His eyes boldly met hers, in warning, to end the discussion before further regrets could be made. "I will do as I please with the girl."
Driven by the anger of defeat, Madam Pomfrey drew in a deep, heated breath, and unleashed her fury upon him. It was just a few brief words... but the scar would be everlasting.
"I thought as much. Leopards don't readily change their spots, do they?"
It was not intended to be a question. Rather a hurtful, vindictive statement; one that immediately caused Severus' eyes to turn dark and withdrawn. She had just slapped him in the face with an invisible hand from the past. Scolded him, for all the wrong that he has dedicated the remainder of his life to making right. Silently they stared, all bonds previously formed between them, unraveled--many, had taken several years to tie. Trust. Respect. Appreciation. Were now thought to be lies and betrayal.
Poppy knew instantly that she had made a mistake. After all Severus has done for Dumbledore, for them, for the order. After all those months of torture he endured for the cause.... Did she truly mistrust him still?
"Severus, I didn't mean--"
"Think what you will of me," he interrupted, his voice slightly faltered. "Only know that I have remained honorable, as far as Claira is concerned; despite the many opportunities I have had not to be."
Quickly, he turned his back to her, his pride prompting his legs to move towards the door; yet, he forced them to remain as they were. This was about Claira. And his need to see her well had grown quite powerful within those few moments of enlightenment. He knew now, that she was the only person who had truly accepted him for who he was, not what he has done. Such things should be treasured, as they do not come by very often, if ever. Claira was indeed, special. He will personally see to it that she is taken care of--the rest of the world, and the trustless people in it, be damned.
Madam Pomfrey bowed her head in shame, and awaited the sound of the infirmary door being slammed shut behind him. After a few moments of silence, she daringly glanced up, surprised to see Severus still present in the room; it was unlike him to remain under such hostile circumstances. Normally, he retreated to the dungeons to ride out his temper. Or rather, drown in it. Why he stayed this time, she wasn't completely sure. But she was certainly grateful for it.
Choosing to keep quite, Poppy removed the rest of Claira's clothing, and then dressed her in a warm bed gown. It was selfish of she and Severus both, to ignore Claira whilst they argued senselessly. The poor dear is probably frightened enough without him--them, making it even worse for her. She tenderly lifted the young woman's hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. In a voice much calmer than the last, she softly informed Severus that it was safe for him to turn around.
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The sun rose high above the mountain peaks, soon to settle behind them, as dusk rapidly approached. Madam Pomfrey solemnly drew the curtains closed around the windows, retiring the room of natural light. Lifting her wand, she brightened the infirmary with magic, refusing to give into the night's dark treachery. Her eyes, soon fell upon the exhausted man sitting at Claira's bedside, his elbows rested on either knee, and fingers coarsely strung through his black, tangled hair in frustration. Suddenly, his head snapped up. He sprang from his chair and shouted,
"CONTRA SUMMERSIO!"
Nothing.
"She hasn't drowned, Severus. Really, we're scrapping the bottom of the cauldron here. I think its time we owl Dumbledore," Poppy announced gravely.
Severus sat back down and roughly massaged his temples, than the bridge of his nose. Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement. The deep crease in his brow did not go unnoticed. He was worried. And that worried her. Next to Albus, Severus was the most knowledgeable when it came to the Darks Arts. He must have conjured every counter hex and curse known to wizard, aside from the numerous potions he forced Claira to swallow-- if Dumbledore couldn't cure her....
Just then, one of the Slytherin students came barreling through the infirmary door. She was out of breath, her face red from the hasty travel. It was that Parkinson girl. Poppy had warned her to keep away from those chocolate frogs; they were frightfully fattening.
"Professor...Snape...Professor Snape! I've--I've found Blake. But he... won't... won't come. I told h'm you was looking for him. I think he's afraid that you might be angry." She was struggling for air.
Severus immediately bolted from his seat, causing the small, wooden chair he sat upon, to topple over several times before landing on its backside.
"Of course I'm angry with him, you stupid girl. Where is he now?" Severus demanded impatiently.
"Common... Common Room, Sir."
Severus quickly snatched up his cloak, and tossed it over his shoulders.
"Severus, the boy's wand..." Poppy began, though only to be cut off by his brazen sneer.
Of course he knew.
Meanwhile, in the Slytherin Common Room.....
Several students were engaged in a competitive game of wizard snaps. Those who chose not to participate, buried their noses in books, attempting to complete their given assignments before the holidays. In the furthest corner of the dormitory, hidden behind a table piled high with thick tombs and parchments, sat a trembling fourth year. Beside him, a concerned friend addressed him diligently.
"You should've went with Pansy to the infirmary, mate. Ya don't wanna go crossing Snape. He can be a right snake when he's angry, even to his own House. I've seen it. Once."
Healey released a low groan, his eyes burdened with fright.
"Well, I think he did right by steering clear of him. I heard that Claira witch is Snape's girlfriend; he's probably in a right fit over it. Neville Longbottom swears he saw them snogging in the infirmary a few weeks ago," nosied in a passing sixth year girl.
Blake quickly buried his face in his hands, now utterly horrified.
"Rubbish! As if Snape can get a woman, specially one that hot," the other boy informed her with a swift roll of the eyes.
"Oh, I don't know. Snape is kind of sexy when his face ain't all twisted up mad. He may even have a decent body hidden beneath those robes--"
"Please, spare me; I'll have nightmares for weeks!"
Just then, the Common Room door violently swung open, its heavy oak slamming loudly against the stone wall. The dormitory instantly fell silent, as a tall, dark form swooped inside, his fury apparent by strong, heavy strides and soaring, black robes. Even his hair seemed to lash out in anger, whilst he scanned the room in a blitz, searching for the bane of his current malady. The children immediately stepped out his path like the parting of the red seas, plastering themselves against the walls in a strenuous effort to keep from his wrath. They knew that look all too well.
His narrowed eyes soon came to rest on a young boy; thought to be hidden beneath a small table shadowed in the corner. Those nearby quickly fled, as Professor Snape approached him with the stealth of a ravenous snake. Gripping the edges of the desk, he overturned it with one powerful thrust, causing all its contents to smash against the wall beside it. There were a few girly screams of fright while he did so, but Severus purposely ignored them as he snatched up Healey's robe collar, and dragged him off the floor.
"Your wand, Mr. Healey. NOW!" he snarled viciously, barely able to control his hands from strangling the coward's scrawny little neck.
"Erm... Sir?" Blake stuttered, unable to comprehend the request; his fear left him too befuddled.
With a loud, aggravated growl, Severus plunged his fist into the boy's robe pocket, and retrieved it himself. Tossing Healey aside, he withdrew his own wand, placed its tip to the boy's, and hissed,
"PRIOR INCANTATO!"
The wand immediately lit up, shooting a jet of white, misty smoke across the room. Severus instantly felt his blood run cold, as he watched the duplicated spell cloud around one of the adjacent bookshelves, causing its components to temporarily fade invisible. Dammit! The little bastard had performed magic with the wand; subsequent to the curse he had cast upon Claira. It was a concealing charm, most likely used to keep himself hidden. Only the last spell conjured, could be retrieved using that incantation--the only incantation. The girl's fate might have rested in his ability to recant the exact magic Healey had used. Now, the whole was lost. She may never be cured.
Slowly, furiously, Severus turned to the boy, his eyes reflecting the hell's fire that burned deep within the pit of his chest. Nostrils flaring and teeth tightly clenched, he grabbed him by his uniform vest, and roughly lifted him to his height, using the rough surface of the wall to support the latter of his weight.
"You are just as pathetic and worthless as your father; feckless to the wizarding community-a bloody nuisance to society. In school, he was a disobedient little prat just the same. Do you know what happens to insubordinate students, Mr. Healey?" His words dripped pools of venom, while the hand that clutched the boy's robes, twisted and tightened, nearly cutting off the source of his breathing.
Blake's skin suddenly paled. Provoked by fright, he soiled his undergarments, unable to control his fear. His eyes kept shifting to the long, black wand, securely kept in his professor's grip.
Severus immediately glanced down, his lip curling into a disgusted sneer as he watched a few droplets of urine splash to the floor. Spitting mad curses, he quickly released his hold on the boy, placing a safe, dry distance between them.
Tucking his own wand away, he promptly drew his knee up, and snapped Healey's in two. Severus then tossed the split pieces of wood at his former student, to keep, as a cruel reminder of his dastardly deeds.
Blake slowly retrieved the remnants of his wand, his eyes tearing up at the sight of his recently gifted birthday present.
"Sir, my... my... wand!"
"You won't be needing it, Mr. Healey. You're expelled. Collect your belongings and owl your parents; I want you gone by morning." Snape's glare remained cold and unscathed, feeling no remorse for the quivering boy in his wake. The child held no value, no purpose. He was a disgrace to the name of pureblood, bearing no honor or respect for the superior rank of his class. He was to be, yet another disappointment to Hogwarts, his House, and the entire wizarding world.
Daring a step closer, Severus towered over the boy, speaking in a dark, dangerous tone that only he could hear.
"Pray, Mr. Healey, that Ms. Bell awakens before you leave. Even more so, that I do not find you if she doesn't. Remember, I am no longer your Professor. And you, are no longer under the council, or protection, of Hogwarts."
Spinning on his heel, Severus cast a deadly glare to all, warning them of the same repercussions, were they to mimic the boy's insolence. He then stormed through the door, slamming it closed behind him in the exact fashion by which he had entered.
Slowly, the students emerged from their dwelling places, silently glancing at each other with wide eyes and shaken expressions. Keeping their backs to the shivering boy in the corner, they gradually went about their previous activities, ignoring Blake as if he no longer existed. And so he didn't. Not in their House, not anymore. He had been shunned. Not to be acknowledged. Not to be friended. Not to be spoken to. It was the Slytherin way.
========@=======@=======@=======@=======@=======
Madam Pomfrey paced the infirmary floor, biting her nails, and casting worried glances at the hourglass purged upon her desk. What the devil was taking Severus so long? Surely he had retrieved the boy's wand by now? Whisking over to Claira, she pressed a tender hand to her cheek, checking the temperature of her skin. Her fingers then trailed down to her neck, where she immediately felt for her pulse. She found it, still beating strongly. Thank Merlin. In all her years of practice, Poppy had never witnessed anything quite like this before. But it did not necessarily mean that the curse was unfamed--certainly Albus would know. It just meant that she was unfamiliar with its attributes; there was something new to be learned everyday, even in her age of experience.
Just then, the hospital door creaked open. Madam Pomfrey quickly tore her gaze to Severus, who quietly swept inside. She looked onto him with relief, expectancy, but soon lost faith when he shook his head somberly, and reclaimed his post by Claira's bedside. Sighing heavily, she marched over to her escritoire, and snatched up her quill. Hastily, she scribbled a summons to Dumbledore, requesting his immediate return.
"I'll be back shortly, Severus; I'm off to the owlery. I also thought to stop by the library and have Madam Pince sort through a few books on the elder curses. Perhaps we can find something useful," Poppy called over her shoulder, before rushing out the door.
Finally alone, Severus released a long, alleviated sigh, and slurred his chair closer to the cot. Leaning forward, he gently wove his fingers through Claira's meshed hair, pulling its loose strands from her face so that he may view her properly. His hand lingered, moving only to trace the soft, round curve of her delicate brow. She looked so peaceful lying there, so angelic.... it was always the innocent who suffered, no matter how petty the evil. A fit of self-loathing, soon struck his ladened heart, as Severus realized that he was to blame for her current affection. Had he not sidestepped the curse that morning, she would be well, and he in her place. The thought sickened him to the point of feeling ill; he certainly deserved it more. Dropping his hand to her blankets, he warmly tucked them beneath her chin, guilt provoking his show of kindness. That, and he cared for the girl, something awful.
Easing his lips down to her ear, he began whispering genuine words of comfort, assuring her that he will not leave her side--at least not until he sees her safe and right again; he still had an eternal debt to repay. And, by God, she will be reimbursed.
Unaware to him, was the woman silently standing under the archway, watching his every move with a confounded expression of surprise on her face. Madam Pomfrey had forgotten to seal the scroll to Albus, in her hurriedness to reach the owlery; a stamp of wax, was needed to secure the safety of its deliverance.
Never, in their fourteen years familiar, had Poppy ever seen Severus act so compassionately towards another. And yet, there he was, talking softly, soothingly, and caressing Claira's cheek as though it were a common occurrence. She honestly did not think him capable of such tenderness, such concern... Perhaps she had been wrong about him after all. Maybe, just maybe, there was a real sincerity in his conquest. She can only hope, for Claira's sake, that that were true. It certainly appeared to be.
Deciding that the moment should remain private, Madam Pomfrey quietly stepped away, thinking it only right that Minerva should be informed of the situation. And she would definitely have means of correcting her scroll's inadequacy.
One hour later....
Perhaps it was the intense, persuasive glow of candlelight, which prompted his sudden course of actions. Or perhaps it was fatigue, which drove him to indulge in such a desperate act of sentiment. Either way, Severus found himself gifting Claira's temple with soft, purposeful kisses. To her eyelids, he did the same, being especially careful not to disturb their fragile rest. Further down he traveled, until his mouth grazed her stilled lips. And there he stayed. Slowly, gently, he pressed his to, begging them to awaken and heed his call. It was a ridiculous attempt. Yet in that moment, somehow, it felt completely and insanely right.
Time swept by, unaccounted for. Finally growing weary, Severus pulled his lips from hers, and sat back with a deep, exhausted groan. As he did, the slightest movement below caught his attention. Anxiously, his gaze shot down to her eyelids, which were now lightly flickering open. Holding his breath, he lifted his hand to her chin, and gently tilted her face to his for a closer examination. Slowly, cautiously, they opened fully to him, their beautiful blue hue blurring beneath anguished tears.
"Claira?" He somehow managed to murmur her name.
"Severus," Claira answered back, before springing from her bed, and throwing her arms around his neck.
Standing, his own arms wrapped around her tightly, embracing her while his face nuzzled into the ruffles of her hair; its fragrance was still just as lovely as it always were.
Moving back to the cot, Severus gingerly sat down upon it, pulling Claira into his lap as he did so. She then began to cry against his shoulder. Never before, has he held anyone whilst they wept; he was always the cause of them to be doing so in the first place. Yet now, holding Claira, everything seemed to come so naturally. Somehow, he knew exactly what to do. He knew precisely what she needed. Him. And it was disturbing. But the feeling of being needed, wanted, was fantastic.
"I... I... couldn't move. Every... everything went black.... I couldn't see." Her voice trailed off, as heavy sobs took over.
Soothingly, Severus rocked her.
"I know, Claira. I know. I was there."
"I... I... heard," she whispered, curling her body into the comfort that only his arms could ever provide. She had heard it all. His soothing words. His argument with Poppy. Everything.
Severus felt a sudden tidal wave of panic rush through his veins. So she HAD heard. Just how much? Quickly, his mind scanned through the intimate words he had offered, searching for possible confessions that may prove compromising... He could not recall any immediate threats, nothing that he need take back straight away; he must be more careful.
After a short while, Claira's body finally began to relax, and her breathing slowed to a quiet, normal-paced rhythm. It was then, that Severus became curious as to how she had awoken from the curse. Had it simply faded? He thought to ask her. So he did.
"Claira, did you hear, or feel, anything different just before you came to?"
Capturing the hem of her nightdress, Claira brought it to her face, swiftly wiping it dry. She then lifted her gaze to him, wholly embarrassed that she had cried so hard into his robes; she did not like to be thought of as weak or frail, even if it were true.
"I... I'm not sure. It was silent for a while; I thought you might have left. Then I felt... I felt you kiss me." Her mouth dropped slightly as she realized its meaning.
It was the Perbacius Curse. Why had he not thought of it before? It was so simple. True, it was not a common magic. But the symptoms should have been easier for him to identify. He had allowed himself to become too overwhelmed, too absorbed in feeling for the victim. It was a most dangerous allowance; one he never would have permitted, had he been thinking properly.
Sensing his withdraw, Claira immediately folded her arms around his neck, not wanting him to release her; not just yet. There was so much she wanted to say, so many things that he needed to know. How to find the words?
"It was the kiss then," she murmured distractingly. "It was the kiss that broke the spell?"
"The Perbacius Curse, yes." His hand came to rest on her hip, and his chin, on the top of her head. She cuddled into his warmth.
"I'm sorry," Claira softly whispered. "Last Sunday, in my room... I shouldn't have--"
"Think nothing more of it," Severus interrupted, not wanting to discuss past mistakes. "It has already been forgotten."
Closing her eyes, Claira pressed her ear to his heart, listening, loving the sound of its low, distant thumping.
The two watchful figures standing in the doorway, went unnoticed. That is, until a third arrived, and completely broke the silence.
"Claira! Oh, thank Merlin!" Madam Pomfrey cried in glee, as she pushed through Dumbledore and Minerva to get inside.
Seeing the trio of spectators, Severus quickly slipped away from Claira, leaping from the bed to stand and straighten his robes. He then stepped aside, allotting Madam Pomfrey a generous amount of space to examine her patient.
"Severus, you broke the curse! What was it? What did you do?" She chimed, holding him in much higher revere than she ever had before.
All eyes were now upon him, their penetrating stares burning through his skin like parchment to a flame. Did they truly expect him to confess? What was he suppose to say?
"Nothing," he spoke aloud, answering his own question, hers as well.
"Think carefully, Severus. Is there anything you may have said, or done, which could be linked as a contributing factor? It is imperative that we know, should future occurrences arise," Dumbledore inquired sternly, his eyes shifting to gaze at him above half moon spectacles.
Severus had a faint suspicion that Albus already knew, that he was only trying to bait him into conceding. But without solid proof, he had no other choice but to swallow his pride.... and completely humiliate himself.
"Ikissedher," he mumbled, his ears slightly reddening beneath his embarrassment.
"Pardon?" Albus, Minerva, and Poppy all asked at once.
Clenching his fists, Severus corrected his composure, refusing to be made a mockery of. Clearing his throat, he gave it second go, speaking in his most intelligible, austere voice.
"Upon closer inspection, I began to recognize certain indications of the Perbacius Curse; her seemingly natural exterior, yet anomalous tenor, were both prominent symptoms of the conjuration. As you well know, its first enchantment can be dated back to the late seventeenth century." He began circling the bed, individually eyeing them as if giving a lecture. "As the sole attendant at the time of my resolution, I had no other choice but to perform the osculation on the girl myself. And, once again, I was correct in my assumptions. As you can see, Claira is mobile, and fairing quite well. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other, more pressing matters to attend to."
Snatching up his cloak, Severus quickly slung it over his shoulders, and swept through the door; successfully eluding any further interrogation of his behavior.
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FireValkyrie: Don't worry; I have no intentions of stopping. As for Sirius, I already have his storyline planned out. In fact, I have the entire story written in my head. I just need to transfer its contents to the computer screen! Easier said, then done.
jazzchic: Its on the way, dear!
D1fferent: There are various time lengths between chapter postings, but hopefully it's worth the wait. Thanks for reviewing!
Yasmine: Divine Thing: Hopefully this chapter will answer some of your questions. I think you summed up my characters exactly as they are. Good job. I enjoy Remus this way as well. We know very little of him, and what we do know, was taken from a child's point of view. I don't think Lupin can keep a steady relationship, being a werewolf and all. Women are bound to notice sooner or later. LOL. The Yule Ball is coming, keep reading!
MissThebes: Two more chapters. There are some events that you all need know about. We still have to work on Severus. He's a hard knob to turn. Please keep reading!
Claire: Here's the new chapter. Enjoy!
sportzjunkie: I'm glad you're enjoying it. We will begin to see subtle changes in Severus over the next few chapters, and also a huge contrast between how he treats Claira, and everyone else. Should be great fun. Thanks for the review!
strega: I'm glad you picked that line up. I was hoping someone would notice it. Its nice to know my readers are paying such close attention to detail. It means we are all on the same channel. Stick with me, there are some great things to come. I promise!
Queen Of The Sacred Flames: Well, I love my reviewers! Please don't hurt me. I'm writing as fast as time allows!
SeverusSnape: That was my favorite part as well, the sweet-sour comparison. I worked a long time on that. I thought it was important to show a little of Snape's possessiveness. He's frightfully jealous when it comes to other men trying to woo her attention. Have you posted a new story yet? If you did, email me the link!
purplestar1: I hate her too! Don't worry; she's going to get exactly what's coming to her. Perhaps at the Yule Ball *wink*
tinxiebell: Thanks for the feedback. Keep reading!
AltoSaxyGal: 'Unstable Romance' that was a perfect description of this fic! LOL. You get it! Thanks for the reassurance. Sometimes I think people overlook the complications. Claira has many hurdles to jump through to get Severus to budge. It will take time, but hopefully in the end....
Glinda Trisstt: I think Claira is too contained to bash anybody. It's not really her personality. But perhaps if she's pushed to the edge, we may see a little fire. Maybe Severus can teach her a thing or two, we'll see. I rarely visit AdultFanfiction.net, but I did read the rest of your "Snaring Snape" story. It was awesome. I love your writing. Next time I go there, I'll be sure to check your other stories out. Thanks for reviewing.
