A/N: My apologies again for the length of this chapter, but I wanted to leave you with one more chapter for the holidays, and then I plan to post the next update when I come back from Christmas, probably around the 29th or so, so be on the lookout for that.
My outline for this 40-ish chapter story has a set path, and their dinner date had to happen in this chapter for plot reasons, but I also wanted to not skip over Dahlia's reaction to her first time at Hogwarts, so thanks again for bearing with me. I think I earned the 'T' rating for this one...
THE daunting centuries-old castle exuded an intimidating aura as Dahlia cautiously approached the greyed structure. She clung steadfastly and tightly to Severus's arm, her breaths catching in her throat. Each tower was illuminated by the now fully risen morning sun, the cold hues from before had now faded to a more warm and bright color. Dahlia thought it was strange how the building could still look so formidable in this light.
Though as they approached the steps, a certain uneasiness filled her already tight chest. She took a small step forward. The castle walls of Hogwarts, Dahlia was sure, were the strongest thing for miles around, yet as she squinted her eyes to look more closely, she noticed the stones. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was built of stones of varying sizes and shapes, each one unique.
From a distance, it was a uniform drab grey color, but as she and Severus approached the massive and illustrious structure, it was a mosaic of humble rocks. Each one of them nobody would think of if they were loose by the pavement, but together, they made up this grand castle, each one of those large stones, the crown of the landscape it stood upon, and the protector of the students who attended school here, and the professors and various staff who taught and tended to the children.
Severus did his utmost best to seem unconcerned that her arm was wound around his and she was walking so easily alongside him as though they did this every single day of their lives, as though it were typical behavior for her, but his heart was pounding hard and creeping its way up into his throat. If Dahlia noticed his obvious growing discomfort, she did her best to seem oblivious, for which he was grateful.
"It's—it's…massive, it's huge, this castle," she remarked in an awestruck voice, tightening her grip on Severus's left arm. "Father told me of it a few times and described it to me but I—I never imagined Hogwarts would be like this. It's so…beautiful. I wish I could have attended," Dahlia replied, breathless as she craned her neck this way and that, trying and feeling like she was failing to take in the castle's elegant and understated beauty.
Severus heard the twinge of regret and sadness in her voice and could not help but offer her a fond smile. A small smile, nonetheless, but intended for her and her alone. He reached over to lay his fingers over the top of his.
"It is…something else," he agreed with his Healer's sentiment in a smooth, languid voice, trying to ignore the warbling note in her voice, not wanting to dwell on the sadness that had seeped its way to the surface of his Healer's voice. "A marvel, Hawthorne. It has no equal like it in all of Europe, that I am aware of, at least."
"It has no equal anywhere," Dahlia said, turning to stare as various members of staff, all of them wizards close to their age in their mid to late thirties in immaculate dress robes, walked swiftly past them, some of them shooting Dahlia interested glances, others curious, as though they were wondering what the likes of a beautiful witch like her were doing with a man like Severus Snape.
But most, thankfully, did not spare her a second glance.
Severus impatiently tugged on Dahlia's arm, an irritable gesture, as for these few precious hours, he had her all to himself, and he was going to keep it that way if he could at all help it now.
Thankfully, the witch came back to his side without any protest, and Severus relaxed at once, feeling the tension in his shoulders and chest leaving him almost the moment her shoulder pressed against his left.
"So many… floors, towers," she breathed as she allowed Severus to lead her inside. "I imagine nothing ever stays the same here, does it, Severus?"
And isn't that a blessing, Severus thought sourly to himself but did not give the bitter thought a voice, not wanting to spoil her good mood. Hogwarts and the board of governors who ran her had been caught up in ancient ideologies for far too long. Some new ideologies would perhaps do the school a world of good.
"No," he agreed, very quietly. "It doesn't," he murmured, as the lights from the small fires that emanated from the lit torches on their sconces along the walls draped over the witch's form in such a way, Severus had a hard time not staring at her or at the shadows that danced their way along the bricked walls. "Do you like it?" he asked her, even softer.
Dahlia nodded. "It's beautiful," she said, shyly, downcasting her gaze towards the floor.
"Good." His voice echoed. "I would hope that my Healer and our new Head Matron of the Hospital Wing will be happy here."
At his last word, he shook slightly, but immediately corrected his gait and stood straight.
"Are you alright, Severus?" Dahlia asked, furrowing her brows in a frown.
But Severus waved her off, impatiently so, and eyed her curiously out of the corner of his peripherals as he led her through the Great Hall, pausing in the entryway of the massive dining hall, surprised to see that Professor McGonagall had done away with their respective House banners, unifying the long rectangular wooden tables instead.
He knew without even having to think to ask her later that McGonagall hoped for the unification of their houses, that the students would converge during meals and sit as one.
"Minerva mentioned to me that you never attended Hogwarts. Why?" he growled, fixing her with a pointed glower, as Dahlia numbly nodded her confirmation of Minerva's truths about her upbringing before tearing her gaze away from the Great Hall and looking once more around the vast first floor.
The sights and sounds of Hogwarts appeared to have consumed her again, particularly the moving portraits, all of whom offered her cheerful greetings that brought a smile to her face, a smile Severus ached to see more of it, and when she rested her hand on the shoulder of one of the polished suits of knight's armor, Severus felt a spiraling warmth of jealousy in his chest.
For a moment, he wished he were the knight, that he could feel the cool smooth surface of her palm on his shoulder and shook the thought away just as soon as the idea formed. He wished that it were his hand for which Dahlia Hawthorne had reached.
Severus flinched as his breaths caught in his throat. As she stood in front of him, behind one of the torches on the wall, against the flaming dull light of the yellow and orange flames of the fire, her flowing white flowered dress hit the floor, the light framing her perfectly, casting a hazy halo around her red hair.
The witch truly looked like she belonged here like she was a work of art, Merlin and God's finest masterpiece, her physical scars notwithstanding. Her eyes were scanning the spaces closest to her, seemingly searching for something, but what, Severus couldn't say. He let out the breath he had not even realized he'd been holding as her eyes finally settled on him once more and she spoke.
"My father did not want me outside of our house—outside of his control. Not even with him, so…I was never allowed to leave," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she confessed her truth.
It took a great deal of willpower not to tell the young woman that her father deserved every bit of his death, and had he the capability, he would have been the one to kill him, had he known the sort of torment and fresh hell he inflicted upon his daughter.
Instead, he said, "Your father was fond of you, Dahlia, despite what he was. Perhaps he never let you attend as he always saw you as a little child."
Dahlia frowned at hearing Severus's words, but glanced keenly towards him, intrigued by his statement enough to ask a question after a moment of silence as she thought over how best to phrase her words.
"And you, Professor?" she softly, with emphasis on the use of his title that almost made him growl and gnash his teeth together in frustration. He much preferred it when his Healer used his first name. "Do you see me as a sheltered, naïve child?" Dahlia challenged Severus.
Severus swallowed heavily and licked his lips, desperately trying to keep his faltering gaze upon her face.
"Hardly, Hawthorne," he managed to gasp out in a raspy-sounding voice after a moment, his mouth dry, making the Potions Master wish that he had water.
Dahlia smiled softly up at him and slipped her arm back through his, and as his gaze drifted downward and lingered on the cut of the neckline of her dress, a fiery heat flared to life in Severus's veins, hotter than any dragon fire could flame, that terrible lustful hunger roaring to life inside of his body.
Merlin. Dear lord…
He awkwardly cleared his throat and quickly looked away, sharply turning his head to the left, frantically attempting to clear his head of every lewd and filthy image of the young witch away who was currently permeating his every thought. He glanced back at Dahlia after a moment and was glad she'd not noticed.
"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anymore how my father used to see me, since he's dead, I no longer have to worry what that man thinks of me, Severus," Dahlia answered bitterly, clinging to his left arm tighter. She smiled up at him, trying to shake away the haunting memories away. "Thank you, for allowing me to come with you," she added. "I know that accompanying me and showing me around is sure to be seen as a waste of your time and you've likely better things to do than show me around. Will the Headmistress be expecting you soon?" she asked softly.
"It's nothing, Hawthorne, and yes, the Headmistress will need to speak with me in a moment, but she can wait a few moments. You, in my mind, are more important, Dahlia," Severus murmured, gently pulling his arm in closer. The skirts of her dress brushed up against his leg as they walked aimlessly towards the Grand Staircase with the intent to head to Professor McGonagall's office, and he could feel the warmth of the young witch's side, so very close, and yet, not close enough. "This is a far more interesting use of my time, besides."
She smiled and nodded. "It's just a pity you'll have to leave me alone for at least fifteen minutes for the—"
Though she didn't get to finish as she was cut off as a yelp left her throat and she staggered backward as a horrible feeling of debilitating cold wafted through her body, rendering her feeling as though she'd been doused in ice water. Alarmed, Dahlia looked up, and the blood in her veins went cold, just for a moment.
Standing in front of her was a ghost. Or more accurately, a poltergeist.
Were he human, he might have been a good-looking bloke, with a thick wild tuft of hair that stuck up every which way. She could tell by the way the light of the torch hit his face as he floated behind it, that his hair had once been a vibrant red, though admittedly much lighter than hers.
His might have been almost orange, whereas hers was a darker burgundy red. His clothing was tousled, and an array of wild colors, none of which were matching.
She could tell with just one look that he was the sort that saw right through a person, all the stories of the entity's eyes came rushing towards Dahlia in a mighty tidal wave, and for one wild moment, she thought he knew. Dahlia lifted her chin and managed an awkward little sort of bow, small and mocking.
This poltergeist seemed the type to cause as much trouble as possible and delighted in it.
The creature never broke his gaze from hers as she straightened her gait. His eyes narrowed slightly as he returned her bow with a wild flourishing bow of his own, every inch of the gesture exaggerated.
"I would hardly call that a bow, Red," the poltergeist remarked, to which Dahlia curiously noticed Severus grit his teeth so hard that she heard the audible click of his molars as they connected. The creature's voice startled her, slow, tasting every word as he spoke to her. "Do you intend to make a habit of such disrespect to old Peevsie, Luv? You happen to be standing in front of the grandiose and splendor of the castle's only poltergeist, witch, I would have you show more respect, girlie," he snapped in a haughty, arrogant voice.
Dahlia barely repressed a snort of laughter and forced herself to bend an inch or two further.
"My apologies if you saw it as much. I thought you just seemed so interested in looking at me, as though you've never seen a witch before, given the intensity of your staring," Dahlia fired back.
A flash of an impish grin flitted across the poltergeist's lips, there and gone again as soon as he blinked and noticed Severus moving to stand almost shoulder-to-shoulder next to Dahlia, one arm flung in front of her as though he thought that was enough to protect her from the likes of him.
"Witch has a name, Red? I always did have me a thing for redheads, dollface. Which would be lucky for you, if you weren't so ugly. Ugh. I'm sorry, I'm going to have to be sick all over you immediately, it's nothing personal, darling," the poltergeist asked after a moment in a high voice, turning his head to the side and feigning gagging noises, his mischievous gaze flickering interestedly between the look of annoyance beginning to show in Severus's eyes and Dahlia's look of intrigue and awe.
Though she bit at her cheek as she noticed Snape's face flush. Dahlia resisted the urge to roll her eyes but decided to humor the creature. "Dahlia. Dahlia Hawthorne. And yours?"
"Peeves," the poltergeist murmured, tasting the syllables of his name as the name rolled off his tongue. "What a strange name. There's nothing biblical about you, Red," Peeves snorted loudly.
Dahlia stiffened, her eyes growing cold and hard.
"Oh, you might be surprised," she remarked in a dry voice, which earned her another mischievous smirk, a wide one this time from Peeves the Poltergeist, but to her eyes at least, the entity seemed to be enjoying this battle of wits that she appeared to be winning, thankfully. She swallowed down hard and continued. "You've not asked why I'm here, Peeves," she said, speaking in a slow tone, her curiosity getting the better of her, despite Severus shooting her a truly withering glower that, if the man had the ability to, would have pinned her with dagger eyes with just the intensity of this single look.
The poltergeist floated backward from her a few paces and waved a hand dismissively.
"I know already why you've come, Pretty Little Dolly, Lovely Lia, you're Hogwarts' New Head Matron, Old Peevsie heard the witless wonder Nearly Headless Nick talking to Headmistress McGonagall about your…new appointment, but I think you came for a different reason entirely, didn't you, Red? Hmm?" he taunted mockingly, pressing his pale lips into a thin line, blatantly ignoring Severus's growing look of outrage and Dahlia wasn't sure whether she wanted to laugh or curse this poltergeist or not, too flabbergasted at his statement to form an adequate reply. So, she opted for silence as the only apt response to Peeves' words.
The implication of the poltergeist's knowledge alarmed her, but then she remembered if he haunted the school, of course, he would have heard the news of her appointment, likely from passing conversation between staff members. His smile widened, almost predatorial now, hungry.
Peeves the Poltergeist was enjoying this, enjoying Dahlia's disrespect, enjoying this battle of wits, of which she'd emerge the victor, she would make sure of that much.
"You've come to keep Slytherus here company," he joked, floating lazily to rest in between Severus and Dahlia, his Cheshire-Cat grin tugging his lips up even wider. "If you're lucky, Snivellus might even show you to your room, but mind the lily petals all over the floor," he growled wickedly. "So, what, are you dating the slippery snake now, Red? Snivellus here has a strange way with witches, a very strange way indeed," Peeves teased.
Without waiting to see the reddening of Dahlia's face, he turned towards Severus, whose entire body had gone rigid, his fists furling and unfurling at his sides, shaking with the effort to restrain himself from jinxing the foul-mouthed ornery pest where he stood.
"Why? Why take an interest in Lovely Lia, Snivellus? And more to the point, what's wrong with her? Is she blind, can't she see what an ugly mug you have, Snape?" Peeves asked, and perhaps for the first time since initiating their conversation, Dahlia could detect no malice or mischief in the creature's voice, merely pure unbridled curiosity at its finest.
Severus arched both brows and scowled heavily, the corners of his mouth pinching downward. He sharply turned his face away from Peeves, but it was already too late, for Peeves had seen the reddening of his cheeks as heat crept to his face, how when he attempted to speak, at first, nothing came out, save for a strangled attempt at speech as he covered his mouth with his hand as he tried to collect his reeling thoughts.
Severus's searing anger grew as he slowly and steadily raised his wand towards Peeves.
The hateful sneers and insults that had been hurled towards himself and to Dahlia swirled mockingly around in Severus's brain. Without hesitation, without giving himself a moment to think it over, Severus raised his wand to Peeves in a threatening manner, glowering at the school's resident insufferable poltergeist with hatred and vengeance darkening his eyes and pulling the skin of his brow taut and tight across the bone.
"Disparage the school's new Head Matron of the Hospital Wing again or myself, Peeves, and I'm only too certain the Bloody Baron would be delighted to hear your lack of respect towards one of our school's new staff members. And if you breathe one word of this," he swore vehemently, to which his words, Dahlia was astonished to see, had the desired effect. "Then you're going to wish you were dead, Peeves."
Peeves' face, if it was at all possible, paled a shade further, Dahlia was surprised to see as the poltergeist immediately floated backward a few more paces and began attempting to correct himself, though he hissed his words through gritted teeth as he barely lifted his gaze to Severus's Healer, apologizing to the witch and sounding as though the words were causing him immense pain to speak.
"My...apologies, Madam Hawthorne, Professor Snape, sir. Peevsie was just having a little bit of fun, but I can see you're a killjoy here just like the snake, Lovely Lia," Peeves whisper-hissed, malice seeping its way to the surface of his voice. "Peevsie will go, th-there's no need for the Baron to be called," he stammered.
Peeves began to float away, though he was unable to resist one last taunt aimed viciously in Severus's direction as Peeves paused. The poltergeist allowed himself to have a moment, as Peeves curiously peered over his shoulder at the odd sight of the raven-haired, sallow-faced Potions Master and the truly lovely redheaded vision of loveliness that was the school's new Head Matron.
An odd couple they made, the poltergeist thought and said as much out loud before he could stop himself.
"You protect her, Snivellus, you talk poisonously, but Peeves knows the truth. He knows. You'd not hurt her when old Peevsie knows your true nature, that you wouldn't hurt a fly, Snape. Why?" Peeves asked, curiously.
Severus opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, he halted at the touch of Dahlia's hand on his shoulder, and instant warmth flooded through his entire body as he felt the delicate hand give the appendage a light squeeze as his Healer stepped forward, her dark eyes narrowed and flashing in pure rancor.
A muscle in her jaw twitched and fire ignited in her eyes as she addressed Peeves in a cold tone that was devoid of any semblance of warmth whatsoever.
"You're right, Peeves. Professor Snape wouldn't hurt a fly. Because a fly is an innocent creature that never knowingly did anything to anybody. You, however, I'm sure he would be delighted to maim until there's nothing of you left to haunt the school, so I recommend you follow the man's advice and leave and mind your own business going forward. If the Potions Master is attracted to anyone, then it's his business," she growled.
For a long moment, Dahlia stared the mischievous poltergeist down, waiting for the insufferable creature to challenge her words. She was sure this would not be the first time she would have to defend Severus's honor with her wand if it came to it. Out of the corner of her gaze, she saw Severus regard her with a look akin to shock in the man's black eyes, and she felt his entire body tense and go quite still.
Peeves' face if it was at all possible, paled a shade further as the poltergeist swore under his breath and shot Dahlia a rude hand gesture that made her flush in anger.
She raised her wand intending to fire a well-aimed Stunning Spell at the ornery bastard but was halted in her movements by the feel of Severus's hand over the top of hers, stilling her movements. Hesitantly, she lowered her wand and watched as the poltergeist floated away, though not before calling out a final warning.
"And Peeves? If you breathe one word, sir," Dahlia warned the poltergeist, hoping that by calling him sir and addressing the entity with even a modicum of respect, he would keep out of their business, "Then you're g—"
But she was too late.
Peeves was already floating up the stairwell, hollering at the top of his lungs, the mischievous look returned to his face once more, Severus's threat to get the Bloody Baron involved already the furthest thing from his mind.
"Hey, everybody!" he bellowed to the gathering crowd of various professors who were heading to Professor McGonagall's staff debriefing, Remus Lupin, Pomona Sprout, Filius Flitwick among the group that was in mid-ascent of the next steps of the moving staircases, much to Severus's abject horror. "Guess what? Old Snivellus is in love with Matron Hawthorne!" he shouted as loudly as possible to the gathering crowd.
It did not escape either Severus or Dahlia's attention that the group had collectively turned their attention down the stairs and were now looking at them, at Dahlia's hand which was hovering dangerously close to Severus's, at the stricken looks of embarrassment on both of their faces. Severus gnashed his teeth together.
He was getting used to the dryness of his mouth and the constant swallowing of nothing, he thought, but now there was the slime of something thick and the disgusting taste of iron that lingered on his tongue as he staggered backward, turning away from Dahlia, and stalking towards one of the walls. He leaned against the cold stone of the castle wall while his body started to shiver and he tried to curb his pained breathing as his chest constricted, thinking that this day could not possibly get any worse than it was right now.
His hand jutted to the wall, and he held himself firmly, his mind blazing with double-edged curses against the wretched meddling poltergeist. Severus almost swallowed his tongue, throttling the urge to roar like an enraged dragon, knowing full well that Dahlia was curiously eyeing him.
He felt her stare currently threatening to burn a hole in the side of her skull, but he couldn't bring himself to turn about and face the witch, to look into her eyes. Severus stood stock-still for a moment, wondering what had happened to his quiet and isolated existence, what had he done to deserve such torment and fresh hell.
Then, he thumped his brow against the wall once, twice, and three times.
It didn't help.
DAHLIA was sure she must have looked like she had been hit by some Stunning Spell. 'In a daze' was the only way that Dahlia could describe her current state of being as she watched Severus stalk down the hallway of his home towards his kitchen upon the meeting with Professor McGonagall concluding a few hours after Peeves' introduction into Dahlia's life.
He'd quietly dismissed himself from her company following Peeves' little outburst earlier, and red-faced, had stormed up the stairwell of the Grand Staircase without another word and had left Dahlia to her own devices to explore the castle and find the Hospital Wing on her own and introduce herself to Madam Pomfrey.
The older matronly witch spent the next several hours showing Dahlia the ropes, how she managed the Hospital Wing, where the spare potions and vials were stored, and took great delight in knowing that the students and staff she had come to love and respect over the years would be well looked after by the same witch who had saved Arthur Weasley's life from dying of poisonous bites from the Dark Lord's snake a few years prior and was the same witch responsible for saving Severus Snape's life in their boathouse. It had kept her busy, and the time had slipped through her fingers like water. Dahlia had been alarmed when Severus lingered in the open entryway of the Hospital Wing, watching her converse with Madam Pomfrey, and it was only when she heard the sound of the man awkwardly clearing his throat to announce his presence did she look up in alarm and realize how much time had passed, and that they were to head back. She had sensed his embarrassment and had taken one look at the man's reddened, flushed face and decided that it was best not to bring up Peeves for the remainder of the evening, and instead chose to give him the next thirty minutes or so alone to himself, in the hopes he'd calm down.
Dahlia spent at least fifteen minutes in her bedroom attempting to gather her thoughts and prepare herself for whatever tonight would bring. She chose to wear her jade green floor-length maxi wrap dress patterned with floral embroidery detailing on the bodice, depicting small white flowers, a tie at the waistline, and a femme flowy high low-bottom hem. Her dress had flouncy long bell sleeves, and on her feet, she opted for a simple pair of open-toed sandals. Breathing slowly through her nose, she paused just in front of her bedroom door to look into the small mirror that hung on the wall as she thought of how to wear her hair tonight.
She waved her wand and stared at her terrified but eager reflection as her magic began doing her hair in the way she wanted.
Her nonverbal incantation had lifted her shoulder-length hair into a loose chignon with a twisted braid, so the back of her neck was exposed, and opted for a pair of small gold hoop earrings in her lobes. She tried to look the way she wanted.
A witch with a heart of steel and the decisiveness of a grown woman who knew what she bloody well wanted out of life and fully intended to take what life owed her now that Father was dead and no longer held any sort of control whatsoever over her life. The strength of a Hawthorne and the temper of one as well. At least for the next few hours, long enough to survive this dinner.
Breathe, she thought, casting one last look into the mirror. He would see how nervous she was if she couldn't control herself, and she could not change it. Breathe, she tried again. Dahlia stared at herself until there was nothing in her eyes until she could stand straight upright with her head held high until her hands stopped trembling. Until she felt ready from within. Exhaling a shaking breath through her nose, she reached for the doorknob and twisted it, stepping out quietly into the hallway, prepared to head towards the dining room to see if she could be of any help. As she slowly walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, she mentally tried to prepare herself for what was to come.
Of course, though Dahlia could feel a bit of excitement welling within her chest, there was the more cautious aspect of her nature that warned her to be careful, as she was not sure that she could trust whatever was to come tonight.
She had seen how he looked at her, the hunger in the man's eyes. Thinking again of how he had twice kissed her, once to the cheek, and again, pressing his lips to her forehead in a gentle manner that threatened to unhinge her, Dahlia felt a tightness in her throat.
Everything now felt surreal, almost as if she were moving at a slowed pace. She felt her feet move as if by rote memory towards the kitchen, though a flash of dark out of the corner of her eye in the man's simple dining room caught her eye. She drifted into the room and lingered in the entryway, for a moment, too paralyzed to move another inch. She came in to find herself alone and the two-place settings that were set on the man's wooden long rectangular dining room table were not where she had envisioned them to be.
Instead of being placed on the opposite ends of the long table, the two-place settings were placed together in the corner by the fireplace at the far end of the room to allow for a more intimate setting, she suspected. The rest of the table, however, was completely bare, which immediately made Dahlia feel uncomfortable. Her eyes widened as she felt her heart rate increase and her breaths quickened.
Even her hands were beginning to feel clammy, something that Dahlia had not anticipated. No sooner had she entered the room and touched the edges of the chair that she presumed was to be hers than did Severus appear in the doorway, causing her to straighten her gait and stand tall and proud. She stared, unable to help herself as the breath froze in her lungs as she got a good look at the wizard's attire.
He wore black, as usual, but as his form was no longer hidden underneath a thick woolen cloak, Dahlia could see that his form was considerable and broad beneath his set of pressed black robes.
"You're staring, Hawthorne, you seem to have lost the power of speech. No matter, I'm sure you'll regain it soon enough," he remarked with something akin to amusement in his voice, though as he strode past her to face the fireplace, she thought the wizard's steps were almost predatory. Her cheeks flushing. He followed up his comment with a wry smile. "I never said I didn't like it, witch." He paused and allowed himself a moment to admire Dahlia's jade green wrap dress. "That dress is lovely, Dahlia, green is a color that suits you," he murmured lowly, his eyes raking up and down her form in her jade-green dress. "It does look remarkable on you, Hawthorne, though I must confess, the time to go is now, if you are having second thoughts."
Dahlia could only blink owlishly at Severus, feeling certain she had misheard the wizard, as her slender fingers curled around the backrest of her chair for support as she turned to stare at him, to keep her steady. But every part of her felt as though she were melting at his words, the tension coiling within her and tugging until it was almost impossible to ignore.
Swallowing down hard, she summoned enough strength on her throat, to speak up.
"Wh-what?" she asked, quietly and confused. She swallowed hard and finally, let go of her chair, as she turned around to face Severus. "Leave? Why on earth would I want to leave? What is this? Should I be afraid of you?" she asked, smiling playfully as if it were a game. Severus Snape was now no more than three feet away from her. A few more steps and he would have her pressed up against his dining room table.
"Perhaps," he admitted, very softly, a dark glint in his eyes that his Healer was not at all sure what to make of. "Though, from what little I know of you, Dahlia, it is not in your nature to run from what you fear." He paused, cocking his head a little to the right. "You aren't frightened of me, are you, Hawthorne? Does the majestic eagle regret her decision to spend an evening with the slippery, deceptive snake? You surely know for certain now where this is going? Where I had hoped that it would, by asking you to dinner? The time to back out is now if that is what you wish. You know the exit," he growled. Severus's intense gaze flickered over Dahlia's pale and stricken face again, examining his Healer for any sign of weakness. "Are you thinking of a way to run past me and flee, even as we speak? Are you merely waiting for your right chance to go?"
Dahlia furrowed her brows as she glanced over her shoulder towards the entryway of the hallway. Was Severus advising her to flee? She did not think that he was capable of letting her go, not when she was so willingly offering herself up to him by having accepted his dinner invitation.
She had let him kiss her twice, for god's sake. But…what if Severus meant it? What if this was her one opportunity to flee, and she did not take it? What then? She smiled, the sort of smile that did not befit an innocent witch, and instead proceeded to pull out her chair and sit down, allowing the soft jade fabric of her dress shift as she kicked off her sandals, trying to signal to Severus that she was growing comfortable enough with him, showing him without speaking just exactly what her intentions were for tonight.
Severus followed the shifting of the fabric of her dress with his eyes as she crossed one leg over the other and then growled so much like a wild dog that Dahlia very nearly jumped.
"I'll take that then as a no, Dahlia," he murmured and copied his movements as he sat down, though not before helping Dahlia to push her chair in closer towards the table.
"Thank you," she said shyly, feeling more than rather awkward as she stared at the place setting in front of her, her jaw going slightly slack in surprise as her plate was now filled with the most delectable fileto di Pomodoro Dahlia had thought she'd ever laid eyes on, complete with a basket of freshly baked and buttered buns near both of their plates and a tin bucket of chilled house-elvish made red wine.
The meal the house-elves of Hogwarts had prepared for the two of them tonight smelled divine and almost made her mouth water, though Severus spoke and commanded her attention, forcing Dahlia to tear her gaze away from the meal to look him in his eyes.
"No, I should be the one thanking you," Severus retorted immediately as he sat down in his chair and looked at his now full plate and silverware. "You've accepted my invitation, something I must confess that I had not been expecting, and I see that the culinary skills of our school's house-elves have you speechless, Hawthorne. I hope you don't mind that I've…enlisted their help in preparing tonight's dinner. I confess I'm not much for cooking, considering my life's circumstances left me with little opportunity to practice. I never saw the point in learning when it was just me alone living here," Severus said.
Something of a soft smirk tugged the edges of his mouth up in a smile as he waved his wand and the bottle of wine floated from the bucket and proceeded to pour the contents of the bottle into his wine glass, and then lazily turned and repeated the gesture for Dahlia's until her glass was full.
"I told you once before, Severus, that I would not leave you, and I meant it," she promised.
He nodded gratefully and pursed his lips into a thin, rigid line, his brows furrowed. "I hope you don't mind," he murmured. "I took the liberty of…taking matters into my own hands for tonight."
"Why wouldn't I have accepted?" Dahlia asked, giving Severus a small smile as she shifted her gaze to look at the wizard's smooth hands, pale and perfect, which were now lying flat on the table. "I have every reason to spend an evening with you, it's the least I can do for you. You saved my life. This was very kind of you, Severus, to go to the trouble of planning this," she whispered. She smiled appreciatively, although still somewhat wary, wondering if this could be the man that she allowed herself to love, with Father well and out of her life. "I don't mind. No one's done anything like this for me in my entire life," she confessed. "So...thank you, Severus, and I mean that from my heart," Dahlia quietly acknowledged, briefly meeting his gaze.
Severus looked up from plucking a bun out of the basket in front of his plate and handed the basket to Dahlia, which she accepted gratefully and kept her gaze fixated on the basket of bread in front of her while he speared one with his fork and set it down gently on her plate. She silently tried to thank him with her eyes, to which Severus responded with something akin to a withering look, warning the witch not to, as they were past her need for thanking him, and he saw no need for her to offer him her thanks, for the third time.
Dahlia let her gaze drift towards her glass of wine, the dark crimson liquid looking entirely too much like blood for her comfort. She swallowed down hard past a lump in her throat, almost afraid to confess that she'd hardly had a drop of wine before. She was not a drinker, Dahlia knew that much about herself. Growing up with a father like Hans, the moment she broke free of his influence after spending most of her teenage years confined to the house and in the evenings, under the influence of Calming or Sleeping Draughts, she vowed she would never willingly subject herself to anything that would impair her ability to think clearly.
Perhaps it made her a prat and would quite possibly taint the man's opinion of her, but it was not an aspect of her nature that could be helped, nor did she want to change it.
She feared she would not be able to drink what Severus had just set in front of her now.
"You don't drink, Dahlia, do you?"
Dahlia looked up sharply, alarmed, to find Severus staring at her, an odd expression on the man's face she didn't know how to begin to interpret, but she thought he looked amused.
"Um, no, I—I don't, Severus, n-not really," she managed to stammer out in response, mentally telling herself to try and maintain control over the situation and her emotions.
He was still the same man she had spoken with a few nights ago, Severus still the same man whose life she held in her hands, responsible for ensuring he managed to make a full recovery.
She had just been thrown into a situation she was not familiar with, was all.
"Would you like some water instead?" Severus asked her in a quiet voice.
Looking up again, Dahlia found herself staring at the wizard once more, who was now regarding her with a look of concern and worry. She frowned.
She was beginning to wonder just what in the bloody hell was wrong with her.
"Ah, y-yes, that would be lovely, please, thank you, Severus," Dahlia admitted, downcasting her gaze, finding her response odd as she realized how distant and numb her voice sounded, but then she quickly realized that the fact that Severus Snape was offering her water in the first place was what felt rather odd.
He responded in kind by waving his wand and reaching to pour some ice water into a crystal glass from the decanter he'd conjured.
"Thank you," she continued, finding the entire situation of the wizard offering her water both surreal and ridiculous as Severus responded by saying nothing in kind, but instead placed the water on Dahlia's side of the table as he half rose from his seat to do so.
As they sat in silence, Dahlia closed her eyes wearily, gripping both her hands tightly under the table before shifting her face towards him. She wracked her brain for something to say that will fill the silence that settled between them as they ate and compromised instead by shoveling a bite of food into her mouth, chasing it with a long swallow of water from her glass. The water was cold and soothing as it went down her flaming throat, which she was sure was only sore due to how nervous she was becoming.
She picked up the bun off her plate and tore a chunk off, holding the bite of bread in her fingers before popping it in her mouth, taking her time chewing and swallowing, before a question came to mind.
"You—you were wonderful earlier in how you ah, showed remarkable restraint in handling that poltergeist. Has he always been so…ornery?" Dahlia noted shyly but curiously as she held a bite of her pasta on her fork.
She watched as Severus's mouth turned down in a grim line, making her heart sink.
He was not in the mood to talk about Peeves and how his antics in the castle earlier had led to almost the entirety of the Hogwarts staff knowing that Dahlia Hawthorne was his Healer, or that he was harboring something of an interest in her, romantically speaking.
Dahlia cringed and tried not to grimace as she realized perhaps it had been wishful thinking on her part to assume Snape would open up to her so easily. But much to her surprise, after a moment, Severus assented, sitting back in his chair and his shoulders sagging.
He let out a tired sigh and spoke. Severus snorted and rolled his eyes to himself.
"He has, Dahlia. You would do well to mind your tongue around him once the term starts. For future reference, the Slytherin House ghost, the Bloody Baron, is one of few in the castle who have a hold over Peeves and can control him, should he ever bother you. Were that the Headmistress could do something about Peeves, but no such executive order or incantation can keep out a poltergeist. We've spoken to Remus's father, Lyall, who, I'm not sure if you know this of the werewolf's father, is something of a world-renowned authority on Non-Human Spirituous Apparatus, which includes boggarts, poltergeists, dementors, and the like, to see what can be done about Peeves, and according to him, there's nothing. So, the staff and students are forced to suffer through his company as long as he haunts it, or if Hogwarts ever burns to the ground." His tone was bitter. "I apologize that you had to be subjected to that. That the staff knows of my...interest."
Dahlia could not help the shy grin that tugged the corners of her mouth upward as a fiery heat crept to her cheeks. She was not quite sure why she felt so relieved to hear him acknowledge his interest in her.
Of course, he was…wasn't he? He would not have asked her to dinner otherwise. More to the point, besides, she could not understand why she felt a twinge of jealousy towards the other witch in his life, the woman who had never been his. Lily. She supposed it was the thought of another witch having such a connection with him. She had never thought of deeming herself worthy enough to have a family, a man to love, and who cared for her back and loved her in return, the way a husband would his wife. Tonight, however, sitting so close to Severus Snape, staring into the man's black eyes and being so candid with him, she thought perhaps…with him, it might be beautiful. Her cheeks blazed and she struggled to look away and was more surprised to find that she did not want to, even if she could. She quickly remembered then that she owed Severus an answer, and how he had spoken of the rest of the staff's apparent knowledge of his interest in her now.
No thanks to Peeves, Dahlia thought bitterly as she reached for her glass of water and took a sip, swallowing before speaking.
Dahlia polished off the last bite of her dinner and pushed her plate away, right as the unseen house-elves magic caused her now empty plate and cutlery to vanish, only to set in its place a slice of delectable-looking chocolate torte, topped with cream and fresh berries.
She chuckled wryly and flicked her gaze up to meet Severus's.
"I hope you're planning to share this with me, Severus, I couldn't possibly eat all of this in one go," she teased, causing Severus to think he might have just detected a note of hopefulness in her voice. "There's far too much for me to eat on my own."
She tried to laugh, but her nerves made the noise sound like a fitful sigh. She hid her racing heart behind a shy smile as she gingerly pushed the plate towards him and held out the second fork on her plate.
Although his own heart was pounding so damned audibly loud in his chest that he thought Dahlia could hear it, and his brain was racing two steps ahead of him with possibilities, Severus merely accepted Dahlia's suggestion graciously.
"If you insist," he agreed with a slight shrug of his shoulders and took the first bite. The conversation over dessert was light and surprisingly pleasant, much to her delight and relief. The pair spoke mostly of Hogwarts, and what Dahlia could expect during her tenured appointment as Head Matron for the school. Severus relayed to her that Professor McGonagall was ordering her staff back to the castle sooner than anticipated, and had requested his and her presence at the castle in the next few days if they were amenable to continue to see to the last few remaining details of the castle repairs following the Battle of Hogwarts.
When they had finished their dessert and their plates had been cleared away, they took their conversation into the living room and stood in front of the fireplace, where a warm fire was already crackling in the hearth. No mention was made of either one of their pasts, although it hung heavy between the pair, as it usually did for them. Severus stood silently by the fire, watching Dahlia quietly peruse his shelves of books with keen, intelligent interest. He tried not to study the witch too intently and simply enjoyed the Healer's company.
Though it was difficult for him not to stare at the soft angles of Dahlia's features, washed in the firelight and painted a faint amber hue, as she gazed enthralled at a book she held in her hands, a copy of William Shakespeare's Macbeth. The warmth and soft light from the hearth began to overtake Severus's senses. Nowhere in all the world could have ever pleased a man as much as he felt fulfilled at this moment.
All he saw was Dahlia, and all he knew was his growing fondness and affection for the beautiful young witch. Her happiness radiated from the young witch like a single star in the night sky. It was that beacon to which he held fast onto during the cold long night. Feeling the surge of hope swelling within himself once more, Severus forgot himself, thinking perhaps the one and a half glasses of house-elf made wine he had drank was making him bold, and spoke more candidly to Dahlia than perhaps he had any right to.
"How could your father have treated a beautiful witch like you so atrociously?" Severus sighed, his voice a low growl. He grimaced as he watched the witch give a visible start at his words.
Dahlia snapped the copy of Macbeth shut that she had only been half-heartedly perusing, setting it aside on a small wooden table, and raised her shocked eyes to him, looking pained, her face pale, as though Severus had raised a hand against her and hit her.
"Why would you say that to me, Severus?" Dahlia demanded, stricken.
Severus stared, dumbfounded at Dahlia. He swore he could almost see her heart shatter. His words had been intended as the highest compliment, for he could think of no other word to describe his Healer.
"What?" he asked uncertainly, the pit of his stomach hallowing at Dahlia's crestfallen and even angry expression. "I…" he hesitated, his voice trailing off, trying to comprehend the insult he had just accidentally given her, but Dahlia did not let him finish as she stalked towards him, the skin of her brow pulled tautly.
Dahlia's face drained of what little color was left as she stared at him, indignantly, furiously.
"You chose the most hateful word ever spoken to describe me?" she asked rhetorically, the breaths visibly catching in her lungs as she hissed her words through gritted teeth, her expression looking as though she would very much like to jinx him for his slip of the tongue.
Severus's frown deepened.
"Hateful?" he repeated, feeling certain that he had misheard. "No, I…that's not at all what I meant," he stammered, desperate to correct his mistake. "I meant it as a compliment, Dahlia," he swore.
Dahlia shamefully cast her eyes to the floor, digging her fingernails into the skin of her palms.
"I'm not beautiful, Severus, I never have been and I never will be," she told him very softly, a single tear escaping from the edges of her closed lid on her left eye and falling by her feet. "I don't like that word. Father, he…never used it to refer to me with kindness," she confessed, her face twisting in wild, feral anger.
Unable to stomach looking Severus in the eye any longer, Dahlia stiffened and sharply turned her back on the wizard, walking a few paces away, folding her arms across her chest and trying not to shiver as painful memories began to flit through her mind. Memories she would rather not think about and had trouble sending away. She stood stiffly, with her back facing him in a thick, uncomfortable, tense silence.
Severus was stricken, at a loss for words for perhaps the second or third time in his life. He itched to take his Healer into his arms and selflessly absorb the witch's pain for himself. He would endure it and bear it if it meant it would spare her one more moment of mental anguish. His arms now ached for the feel of the witch. His lips tingled and burned.
He longed to press his lips against the soft, creamy skin of her cheek, and then her lips in a kiss if she'd let him. His body reacted to the witch's presence and the flaring desire within himself.
For a long moment, Severus hovered only a hair's breadth from Dahlia Hawthorne, intoxicated by her. Dahlia shivered. She knew she couldn't hold Severus responsible for causing her such distress just now. She had never told him how the word affected her. She'd not spoken of the painful things Father had done to her. How could she have woven such a tale for the likes of the man?
She became keenly aware that Snape now stood behind her. She swore she could hear his heart pounding so loudly, that it almost matched hers. His breath was hot on the column of her throat. It sent an uncontrollable shiver down her spine.
Was that…was that his hand at her waist? She felt herself falling back against Severus, her legs going weak and her eyelids fluttering closed to savor the wizard's nearness, the air bursting forth from her lungs in a content sigh. Severus Snape was all she thought she wanted. But then, as quickly as Dahlia had allowed herself to succumb to her longing for the man, in a momentary flash of clarity, she stopped herself from becoming lost in the wizard's silent promises. But she made no move to pull away.
"Your father was nothing but a fool, Dahlia Hawthorne, a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a wizard. He ruined his trust and love for you the moment he began hurting you in ways that a father should never hurt their only child," Severus spoke in a voice from behind that Dahlia could only describe as a vicious growl.
He fell silent and pictured the precious treasure of this woman's love. Not for the first time since meeting this witch and learning of her parentage, Severus wished that he had been the one to send the Killing Curse at Hans Hawthorne's chest instead of Remus Lupin.
He wanted to have slain Hans himself and wished he could cleave the wizard's disgusting head from the rest of his wretched, miserable body for the pain that he'd caused Dahlia.
Without giving himself a moment to think it over, Severus's hands snaked upward from around the young woman's waist as he gingerly pivoted Dahlia around to face him fully, cupping the witch's chin in his strong hand, tilting her head to the side, forcing her to look at him.
His deep penetrating gaze seemed to reach into the depths of her very soul. He wanted, more than anything, to lean forward and kiss her. But more than that, he wanted her willing. Severus did not want to startle or frighten Dahlia anymore than she already was, lost in the throes of some distant bad memory.
When at last, he managed to regain control of his voice again, his voice was calm, determined.
"My intent was not to hurt you. I intended to portray you with the only depiction that came to my mind," Severus apologized softly. "But now that I know the sort of reaction it invokes in you, I'll endeavor to find any other description I can think of…you are...lovely," he finished, remembering all too well what Peeves had called his Healer earlier.
Severus paused, chewing at the wall of his mouth as he longed to complete the path he had started down on, and again, without thinking, pressed a chaste kiss just behind her ear, not realizing it was quickly becoming his second favorite place to kiss her.
The first-place prize would, of course, be the witch's lips. He drew even closer towards her. Severus's hands drifted up to rest on her waist and she very nearly cried out in pain with how tight his fingers were gripping onto the knot at the waistline of her dress, as if for support.
She could only stare up at him and offer up a saddened smile, trying to communicate that she appreciated the lengths he was going to to make her comfortable. After a brief pause, he closed his eyes, as though Severus could not bear to look at her.
Her thin eyebrows furrowed into a frown at the strange behavior as she registered the hurt that now welled in her chest but could not understand why she felt so disappointed.
"Dahlia…" murmured Severus in a distant voice, his grip tightening even more around her waist, making her feel warm. "Surely after what happened to you with Dolohov, you should know that I…that I've longed to tell you that…"
"Tell me what?" Dahlia whispered, and he knew she was not at all ignorant. Dahlia had understood the moment that he had saved her life that his respect for her was growing in a new way, that something within him was changing. The anxiety he had felt around her presence had inevitably led him to this second.
Severus felt that same something within himself give way as if he were surrendering to something. His black eyes darkened a shade further. Without letting himself think over his actions, he did not say a word as he took her terrified and stricken face into his hands.
They had gone too far now. She knew, Severus could see it in the witch's lovely brown eyes, which were wide and brimming with both fear and wonder.
And if nothing came of this except her giving him perhaps a well-deserved slap to the face as he had told her when he had originally asked her, then he could not stop himself from being honest with her.
This witch, this woman, this celestial-like creature, had caught him in a vice, and he knew if he did not do something about it now, then he felt like he would just explode.
He leaned down and captured her mouth without warning, giving Dahlia no time to think or react.
Their lips fit together so perfectly, like the missing pieces of a Muggle jigsaw puzzle, that Severus could not help but let out a sigh. Her mouth was as soft as he imagined it to be, and as he lowered his hands down towards Dahlia's neck, he felt her fingers grip hold of his robes, her fingers then splaying shakily across his broad chest. Dahlia, shocked, could only return Severus's kiss.
Right at the start, Severus yanked her flush against him, one of his arms moved down to wrap around her waist and he pressed her mouth even tighter around his. She had nowhere to move her hands but to keep them across his chest, where they stayed while he deepened the kiss. Her lips parted to grant his tongue access, and quite outside her control, Dahlia gave out a tiny cry of pleasure.
The small sound was enough to make Severus let out a low moan. In seconds, he had switched their positions, pushing her back and back until she felt her back bump against one of his tall bookshelves.
Dahlia clutched at the fabric of his robes as he dropped his mouth from hers, sliding down her throat and to the skin of her collarbones, leaving a trail of kisses down her bruised skin. A fiery heat hotter than Fiendfyre flared deep within Dahlia's core, spreading into every orifice of her body, pooling into her lower back, between her thighs.
Each kiss against her skin was like a jolt of electricity to her, numbing her, burning, and teasing every single nerve. She swore she thought she saw him smile, a rare gesture that was meant for her and her alone, and nearly cried out in shock, though Severus swallowed the cry with another kiss, tilting her chin up to him and pressing his lips hard against hers.
She had never felt anything so sensual as this before, and it was as everything became heightened, as though their magic had transported them somewhere else.
She felt so much, Severus could feel it. Everything was real; the quiet little moan he heard the witch give out was real, her breath against his was real, and he knew as he deepened their kiss, that he had never felt anything as intense as this and likely never would.
If he had thought he had known what true desire felt like before, he'd been dreaming.
As Dahlia lifted her hands to his neck, this time, her slender fingers sifting their way through his mop of shadow raven hair, which sent shivers down his spine, it became clear to him that she was feeling by instinct, just as he was, but Dahlia Hawthorne was everything he'd hoped she would be and more, as he gave his first kiss to her. They had not had enough, Severus could sense it as he broke their kiss and pulled back, at last, leaving Dahlia panting and gasping for breath against his shelf.
Subconsciously, she reached for him within a second of him attempting to pull away, her hand flying forward and entangling itself in a fistful of his robes.
Severus came closer obediently but did not kiss Dahlia again. His lips hung centimeters from hers, the tip of his nose brushing against hers, but he refused to close the gap, and neither did his Healer.
"Dahlia," he breathed, still gasping for breath. "Dahlia...what have you done to me?" he whispered in a hoarse voice.
As they both stared at one another, their lips parted, and only one thought ran through the flustered wizard's mind.
For the first time in his life since Lily's death, Severus felt alive. Because of her.
"You heavenly creature, Hawthorne," he whispered incredulously, bringing her closer so she could hear every word, whispering to her in the shell of her ear.
Dahlia knew that he would stay with her, if Severus could, that he would take a hundred more kisses and the rest of her if she would let him. She could not say at that moment that she did not want Severus to leave.
Every inch of her felt on fire, a dormant and repressed hunger awoken in her that she had never realized she possessed before.
It took every last inch of her willpower not to close the distance again. She gingerly pushed him back, still gasping for breath and flushed in the face. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she shakily lifted her gaze and locked eyes with him, perhaps finally realizing internally what had just transpired between the two of them, and Severus, recognizing this and cursing himself as he took note of the look of wonderment and uncertainty in the witch's glistening brown eyes.
Severus quickly let go of Dahlia and quit the living room before she could so much as utter a word.
A/N: Oh, don't I know, you're probably wringing your hands in the air and screaming at the screen after all that, but their first kiss happened at the right time and in the right way for me. We are going to be steering into somewhat more ah, 'steamy' territory as this story and their relationship progresses, but I hope you will bear in mind it will still be rocky.
Much more drama is coming your way in the form of Snape's mum, Eileen, and of course, my lovely idea to pair Antonin Dolohov/Rita Skeeter/Peter Pettigrew as a trio with a talent for trouble, who aren't going to make it easy for this couple to get their HEA, but damn it, I'm sure going to try. Severus has suffered enough and deserves his happy ending for a change, IMO. Stay tuned for more!