Only an idiot would deny it, and Severus Snape wasn't an idiot. So yes, tonight he had experienced a certain... sexual attraction towards Asha. But in no way was it significant. Asha was simply an attractive young woman - a department in which Hogwarts was severely lacking, so no wonder she had caught his eye.

Severus lay on top of his covers, still clothed in his Yule Ball attire. His arms were crossed and he was glaring at the ceiling as if it had just said something extremely insulting.

He was finally being forced to admit to himself that, though tonight had been particularly jarring, this wasn't the first time Asha's physical features had caught his eye. Just in small ways: for one, her lips. He'd noticed she had a habit of biting them in a subtle way that she thought no one could see. He felt himself twitch every time he caught her doing it.

But that wasn't all he'd noticed. There were her perfect cheekbones, her graceful curves, her never-ending legs. Of course, he'd noticed. What man wouldn't? But it had only been in small bursts, easily dismissed.

Tonight, though. The lust he had felt for her had been bone-deep. Figuratively that is, not literally, thank Merlin. But she had literally frozen him to the spot. Paralysed him without magic. At no other point in his life, had anyone else succeeded in having such an effect on him. Even in front of the Dark Lord and unlike most of the other Death Eaters, Severus had never experienced being 'frozen by fear'. He pursed his lips, suddenly remembering Asha's relation to that harrowing man.

He was still struggling to wrap his mind around the fact she was Voldemort's daughter. No two people could have such polar opposite effects on him. The way Asha had touched him. Pulled herself against him. The tickle of her breath as her dewy lips had come only inches from his skin. The way that dress had clung to her body...

Severus growled and shifted his legs. It must've been the alcohol. Must be the alcohol.

He forced himself up and over to the bathroom cabinet where he swiped a potion for dreamless sleep and took a hefty swig. It was inadvisable to mix this draught with alcohol but he couldn't care less. He wanted these thoughts out of his head.

Because deep down, Severus was doing his utmost to avoid pondering the even more frightening possibility: that it was more than just lust that he felt for Asha.

When it came to Winters, becoming any closer or more intimate than just friends - if he even dared call their relationship that - was out of the question, end of story. It was a concept he refused to even toy with, let alone fantasize about.

The reasons for this were simple: even in the absurd event that Asha reciprocated any kind of attraction towards him, she was far too young, too close, and too wrapped up in his life. As a rule, Severus didn't involve himself with any woman he couldn't leave at the drop of a hat; never to be seen again. Even more strictly, he didn't involve himself with anyone he was remotely emotionally connected to (though that didn't usually knock out many players).

It was already hard for him to accept that he did have some form of an 'emotional investment' in Asha. But his proximity to her had reached its limit. And should these feelings of desire for her ever arise again in such strength, he would simply not be acting on them.

To Asha's relief, Severus seemed completely unaffected, disinterested and dismissive of everything that was said and done at the Yule Ball. This meant that on the surface, their interactions continued as normal. Besides, for either of them to do anything else would be admitting that what had transpired that night had been of any significance.

But even though Asha's memories were painted with the haze of alcohol and tinted with the surrealism of extravagant festivity, throughout the next week, every time she looked Severus in the eye, she battled not to drop her gaze to the floor. Why on earth had she decided to tell him about her scar?

She felt distinctly uncomfortable with how close she had grown to Severus. She didn't like how much he knew about her. The emotions she had felt towards him that night had been dangerous. It was that feeling that she needed him. Wrong. Asha Winters didn't need anyone.

Not only that, she was deeply embarrassed about having invaded his personal bubble. And even more deeply embarrassed that it took several days before she successfully kicked the fantasy of her hands on his chest, her lips against his neck and his fingers, once again, trailing down her back, though, this time wandering much lower.

Despite all this, externally Asha appeared the same as ever. Acting as if nothing had changed since the Yule Ball had quickly become something of a talent of hers. And in an attempt to stop mulling over this ridiculous Severus business, she had thrown herself into something she'd been avoiding doing for far too long...

Despite all the hooting, ruffling of feathers, and occasional pecks from poor-mannered owls, the Owlery was a rather peaceful place to be on a winter's afternoon. Asha sat at a bench that overlooked the grounds and continued to stare at the blank piece of parchment before her, quill poised in hand. This had become almost a ritual.

Since Christmas, she had been up here more than a few times. In spite of this, the holidays were now coming to a close and she still hadn't managed to write a single word. Well, that wasn't exactly true. She had written thousands of words, all of which hadn't been quite the right ones and had ended up in the fire.

A loud creak as the Owlery door swung open awoke Asha from her reverie. She glanced over her shoulder, mildly surprised that anyone else would be up here. Most students had caught the Boxing Day train home to spend the remainder of the holidays with their families, leaving the castle an empty shell.

Asha's insides seemed to register who was walking through the door before she did. Her stomach did a dainty flip as the tall, dark figure strode in. He looked the same as always. She found the consistency of his attire oddly comforting.

Upon seeing Asha, Severus pulled up short. He didn't bother to hide his surprise as the heavy door clunked shut behind him. She spun her body around on the stool and leaned an elbow on the bench, twirling a quill between her fingers. Ever since the Yule Ball, Severus couldn't help feeling slightly uneasy around Asha. It was like his subconscious wouldn't stop screaming danger.

"Professor," she greeted almost cheekily.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here," Severus commented truthfully. His tone held the question: and what, exactly, are you doing here?

"Ha, because I have no one to send a letter to?" Asha remarked, earning an inscrutable look from Severus. She guessed he was feeling unsure of whether he should join in her amusement about having no support network outside of Hogwarts.

As she laughed she slipped a hand behind her back, out of Severus' line of sight, and touched her fingers to the blank letter still lying on the bench behind her. With a silent burst of energy, it took only a split second for the parchment to combust.

"Don't worry," she reassured, still grinning, "you're right." And then, with convincing indifference: "I just like hanging out with the owls."

"I suppose that's why you're holding a quill," Severus said smoothly.

Asha stopped spinning the grey feather between her fingers. Shit. Without missing a beat, she shrugged. "It was just lying around."

"Of course." Severus resumed his walk to the central table, a box hovering over his shoulder.

"What brings you up here, then?" Asha asked, trying to move the conversation along.

"The obligation to send out my Potions students' mid-year school reports," he explained curtly, plucking the box out of the air and setting it down on the table.

From where she sat, Asha craned her neck to see what was inside: a collection of scrolls, each with a student's name printed in thick bold, and all neatly stamped with the Hogwarts seal.

"And what does my report say?" she smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. Her tone seemed almost flirtatious and Severus' heart gave an infuriating stutter beneath his ribcage.

"I didn't write you a report," he said plainly.

Asha pulled snarky a face at this dull response.

"Fine," Severus said, looking her dead in the eye, "if I were to write you a report, it would say: while Asha Winters shows more promise than most, she remains ultimately a bad lier."

For half a beat, Asha's face flickered with confusion. "Um, how dare you?" she replied, touching a hand to her heart. "Besides," she broke into a smirk, "you know that's not true."

Severus smirked back. Asha's smirk died on her lips. Because his smirk wasn't really a smirk. It was wry and sarcastic. It was the mocking of a smirk.

Without warning, he strode over, smooth and swift, not stopping until he was only inches away from her. He rested an arm on the bench. It was an oddly dominating stance and Asha blatantly leaned away from him, shooting him a bewildered look that said: 'Um, what the hell are you doing?' Ever since the Yule Ball, being physically close to Severus continued to set her stomach alight in the very worst ways.

Severus wasn't fazed by her reaction. Never once taking his eyes off her, he purposefully swept his index and middle finger across the surface of the bench behind Asha and held them up for her to see.

Asha hesitated, then glance at his raised hand. Immediately she let out a groan and rolled her eyes. "God, you're like a fucking detective."

"Not a detective," he corrected, stepping back, "just diligently observant." He rubbed his thumb back and forth against the black smudges that painted his fingertips. The only remaining evidence of Asha's empty letter sprinkled to the floor in a fine, smokey dust.

"You are so annoying." She went to roll her eyes but found she couldn't tear them from the sight of his strong, slender fingers massaging away the soot. This didn't improve her mood. "Put down that stupid, smug hand," she managed to mutter and hopped off the stool. She paced away a few steps, trying to subtly put some physical distance between herself and Severus.

"So... now that you know you can't lie to me," he drawled, his voice rich and slow, "why don't you tell me to whom you were writing?" The corner of his mouth remained curved in a smug smile.

Asha blatantly ignored this question and began rummaging aimlessly through his box of student reports, mostly as an excuse not to look at him.

"Poor Ron's scroll is rather thin," she remarked wryly. "Is that a good or bad thing, I wonder?"

Severus did nothing except fold his arms across his chest and lean back against the bench, giving Asha a pointed look. She stubbornly continued to ignore him and resumed rummaging.

"Pfft," she chuckled and held up Malfoy's significantly thicker scroll next to Ron's. "I'm afraid this doesn't scream fair teaching practices, Professor Snape."

Severus walked over, his cunning black eyes turned piercing, and snatched the scrolls off Asha. He dug out a strand of twine from the box and began tying Malfoy's letter to the leg of an over-achieving owl, who had been waiting keenly for the opportunity.

Now it was Asha's turn to fold her arms. "I'm entitled to a bit of privacy, you know," she chided, arching an eyebrow as if daring him to disagree.

Severus paused in the process of tying, much to the owl's displeasure. "I know," he replied in an unreadable tone.

Asha's expression softened.

"And," he resumed tying, "I'm entitled to a bit of curiosity, you know."

There was a moment of incredulous silence.

"Alright, sassy," Asha finally muttered.

Severus looked up, saw her eyes were dancing, and sent a stack of reports and twine in her direction. "At least make yourself useful," he ordered, still frustrated by Asha's lack of answers.

For several minutes, noises of shuffling paper, hooting owls and the periodic flapping of wings were all that permeated the tower.

Eventually, Asha caught Severus looking at her. "Urgh, don't look so worried. It's nothing," she insisted.

"Just like your ability to speak and understand Parseltongue was nothing?"

"No, Severus, really, it's not -" Asha sighed and pursed her lips. How was she was both ashamed to tell him, and yet yearning to tell him? Hell, since when did she want to tell people things?

She stopped what she was doing and watched him for a moment, trying to decide what she wanted to do.

"Fine," she relented, "I've just... well." She wasn't entirely sure why she felt so ashamed to admit it, but she could feel her cheeks going hot and hated it. "I've been thinking about... about writing a letter to Madeline."

Severus paused, mid tying a report to an owl's leg.

Asha began to explain, "Do you remember, she was the-"

"Of course I remember," said Severus, meeting Asha's eye. His voice was gentle and unwavering, but not pitying nor consoling. How could he forget? It felt like a long time ago; the girl he had taken to be a third-year, perched beside him on his garden wall. But the story she had told him of the mother and infant she had desperately tried to keep together was like fresh ink on parchment.

Asha averted her eyes, folded her arms and began absently pacing. "Well, yeah. That's what I've been doing. Trying to write to her. But I haven't gotten very far."

Severus' owl hooted impatiently and pecked at him hard. He snatched his hand away and gave the owl his most withering glare. He sucked at the blood before resuming tying the scroll.

Asha sighed. "How is it you manage to get me to tell you everything? Frankly, it's infuriating."

"I suppose I simply have a face people can't help but trust," Severus droned lightly.

"You do not," Asha laughed.

Severus finished tieing the last report. The owl flapped into the air, then soared out over the balcony. Asha's eyes followed it.

"I admire what you're doing," Severus said with no particular inflexion. "You have every opportunity to run from what happened at that foster home and never look back. And yet... here you are."

To Severus' surprise, Asha glowered at him.

"It's the least I can do," she spat.

Severus gave her a long, searching look, trying to figure out what was running through her head. "Wh-"

"I've done so many horrible, damaging things," Asha said, quiet and deadly, almost talking to herself. "I have a duty to amend what I can. So far, my net effect on the world has been fucking ruinous."

"Don't say that," Severus warned in a low growl, articulating every consonant with pinpoint precision. Asha was surprised by how scary he sounded.

Severus vanished the empty scroll box with an aggressive flick of his wand and stalked towards her. Asha couldn't help but back away. Something in his eyes was thoroughly threatening.

Despite her apprehension, she spoke in a hard voice. "Don't tell what not to say. Refraining from speaking facts aloud doesn't stop them from being true."

"Asha. Surely you understand that none of what has happened is your fault," Severus hissed. "That is a fact." Anger was bubbling in the pit of his stomach. She had no idea what it meant to truly be at fault. To have irrefutable responsibility.

Similarly, Asha felt a flush of fury start in her face and sweep, hot and prickling, down the entire length of her body.

To an onlooker, the sudden visceral anger from both Asha and Severus would've seemed like it had arisen out of nowhere. But for them, it was something they both carried, all the time. Heavy on their shoulders, waiting to tear from its shackles.

Asha flexed her fists, feeling her magic start to bubble towards her palms. "Oh, don't even try to-"

"No, you do even try to-"

"No, Severus! Using intent as an excuse is weak. Of course, I never meant to kill anyone. But I did. And those were my actions. I killed that officer. Me. I don't even know his name. And I killed my brother. And I killed Charl-" Asha yelped.

Severus had grabbed her arm and was gripping it tight enough to bruise. "What do you mean you killed your brother?" he snarled.

"You know exactly what I mean!" Asha practically yelled.

But Severus, for the life of him, had no clue what she meant. He'd heard the account from Albus and read the official reports. The bewitched bus had swerved with the intention of hitting both children but only succeeded in hitting one. It was pure luck that Asha was alive and she'd had nothing to do with the death of her twin.

Despite these undeniable facts, a wave of guilt and grief washed over Asha that was so overpowering she was grateful for the pain of Severus' fingers digging into her arm. The ache behind her eyes threatened tears but she refused. This effort alone made it feel as though her legs might buckle.

"He pushed me out of the way!" she cried, struggling against Severus' grip.

"There is no way he did such a thing," Severus growled. "There was no time for that!"

Asha felt so angry at Severus. How dare he bring her to this point! How dare he feel entitled to dig into her past like it involved him! How...

"... dare you talk as if you know!" She suddenly realised she was yelling. "I was the one who survived because he pushed me out of the way! If I was trying hard enough, thinking quick enough, I could've pulled him out of the way with me but I didn't. And the bus hit him!" Asha shoved Severus as hard as she could in the chest. He didn't move. The more Asha forced back the tears, the more she felt magic building inside of her. "I'm a selfish, pathetic, undeserving survivor and the world is worse off for it!"

"Asha, you imbecile, you can't blame yourself for your brother, that is insane!" Severus was utterly incredulous and fuming and, somewhere beneath all that, his heart was breaking.

"Get off me or I'm going to hurt you," Asha managed to hiss. It wasn't a threat, but a warning. She didn't know how much longer she could keep her magic under control.

Severus immediately released her. He backed away and in a split second his wand was out of his pocket. For a frantic moment, Asha was convinced he was going to hex her, but before she even realised what he was doing, he had locked the door and was silencing the tower.

"If he was the one who had lived," she whispered, the closest to tears Severus had ever seen her, "he wouldn't have done the horrible things I have. The world would be a better place if he had lived and I had died."

"That's not a choice anyone gets to make, Asha," Severus insisted, his voice soft but resolute and grim. "It's a fantasy, nothing more."

But Asha barely heard him. She continued muttering through gritted teeth, kicking at a stool as she listed; "Charlie wouldn't be dead. The officer wouldn't be dead. Madeline wouldn't-"

The shackles restraining Severus' anger broke.

"Why do you do this to yourself!" he boomed, his face contorted into a snarl. "Do you take some kind of sick pleasure in torturing yourself with unwarranted guilt!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" Asha bellowed.

There was a huge flapping of wings overhead as two dozen owls burst into flight. Asha covered her head but didn't stop yelling. Her voice was muffled by the sound of the startled owls. "Don't you dare start telling me what is and isn't idiotic to feel! Have you ever been responsible for the death of a person!? A human being? It doesn't leave you, not ever. It becomes a part of you." With only the bravest of owls remaining, Asha was able to uncover her head and look up again. "It stays with you every waking moment! So unless you-"

Her words died on her lips... the look on Severus' face... she knew in an instant... He knew. He knew what it was like.

Her anger drained away like a plug had been pulled from her diaphragm. It was replaced by a brick of hollow, surreal nausea.

"You're not the only one with a dark past, Asha Winters," Severus informed. His voice was strangely tight, jarringly quiet and terrifyingly calm.

A/N: phew! bro i'm sweating after that

Story continues on my Wattpad account ifelephantscouldfly