As much as you obsessed over the full moon, there was something to be said for the new moon as well. For one, it made stargazing so much more enjoyable. Without the bright glare of the moon, the stars flickered radiantly against the epic expanse of night sky above the Scottish Highlands. And though the stars were bright, they weren't necessarily bright enough to light one's way. Which gave you a very good excuse to cling to Severus' arm as you made your way across the grounds towards Hogsmeade, keeping yourself close so as to stay in the circle of light cast by his Lumos charm. Yes, new moons certainly had their perks. It was a lovely night… and you had a lovely view.
You also, admittedly, were the faintest bit tipsy from McGonagall's brandy, so your intentions weren't completely nefarious as you clung to his elbow. You could just imagine your boot heels skidding over the gravel path and you landing painfully on your arse. So really! It was just to keep you steady! To make sure you didn't trip or lose your way. And also maybe to savor that masculine scent of teakwood and clove bud you had missed so desperately.
To your surprise, he was being very accommodating. Indulgent, even. He didn't have to be doing any of this. Didn't have to agree to accompany you to The Hog's Head. Didn't have to humor your whims, which were just poorly concealed excuses to be close to him. But it also felt… natural. Just like your old banter, these casual touches came easily. The gentle press of his hand on the small of your back as he'd lead you down the stairs onto the grounds. The relaxed way you'd looped your arm around his when you made your first stumble on the pebbled path. You were terribly tempted to lean your head against his shoulder, but you weren't sure where the line would be drawn.
Don't press your luck…
You could see the Quidditch pitch just beyond the slope of the hill you were presently descending, the great wooden structure looking skeletal and bleak without all of the house banners fluttering from the rafters. It was illuminated by bright white light, casting long geometric shadows across the grass around the stadium, and you could see two dark specks chasing each other between the stands, which only served to make you smile. Is this what Minerva called 'retiring' for the evening? Because even at this distance, it sure looked a lot like flirting.
"So… McGonagall and Hooch?" you asked brazenly, your gaze turned towards the pitch as you watched the spectacle. But your eyes quickly snapped back down to your feet as the steep path suddenly gave way beneath your heels. Your fears nearly came to fruition as you lost your footing, and you clutched even tighter to his arm as Severus attempted to pull you back upright. Stupid. Stupid to keep these shoes on! They'd given you trouble on the way up with Filch, why would darkness and drunkenness somehow make it easier to navigate the terrain? You laughed nervously once you regained your footing, glancing up at Severus' thoroughly unamused face, illuminated by the bright shine of his wand. "Just… kind of an unlikely pair, huh?" you asked breathlessly, feeling dumber by the second.
But Severus merely rolled his eyes before looking towards the pitch as well. That hadn't changed either; he was still letting you get away with being a complete dingus. "Perhaps," he remarked conversationally with a shrug of his shoulder. "It's a recent development. But I think it's been good for both of them. As far as I've gathered, Rolanda has been pining for years, and Minerva is finally recovering from losing her husband eight years ago."
Your mirth drained away instantly, the smile falling off of your face as you trained your eyes onto the ground beneath your feet. You'd forgotten about that. It had happened sometime towards the end of your second year, when Minerva's husband, Elphinstone Urquart, had passed away as the result of a Venomous Tentacula bite. It was a big deal at the time; he had been a high ranking Ministry official, so of course it made the papers, and there had been speculation that McGonagall wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts the following year. She had, of course, but the whole thing had been just a blip on your radar; you only remembered it at all because you'd been curious as to what a Venomous Tentacula even was. But such was the thought process of a thirteen year old girl who had never experienced death. You never had any grandparents to lose, no pets to mourn. McGonagall started her vendetta against you mere months after the death of her husband, when you had decided it would be a neat idea to physically assault another student. But it never occurred to you that McGonagall could have had anything else going on in her life that might have contributed to her becoming frustrated with a shitty little delinquent like you.
That… was in the past now. You sighed through your nose as you spared a glance towards the pitch, the two dark shadows having come to a halt, hovering near a set of goal hoops. One had been pining for years, the other recovering from a deep loss. It was dreadfully romantic, wasn't it? You smiled a little, despite yourself. You hoped they were happy. That they made each other happy. That things felt as easy and natural for them as they did for…
Your boots finally came into contact with more solid ground as the gravel path turned into smooth cobblestone. But more jarring than the shift in terrain was the sudden snap of cold that enveloped you the second you crossed the gates off of the grounds. You gasped, actually stopping in your tracks as a deep shiver rattled down your body. Severus halted beside you, and you drew yourself closer to him, practically hugging his arm against your chest in an attempt to draw some warmth. It was the middle of bloody August. It wasn't cold out yet. And it took you a moment to realize that the sensation was not a result of the actual weather. You looked over your shoulder, up at the castle, where dim torchlight flickered in hundreds of windows, glimmering and mysterious like the stars above them. It wasn't a loss of warmth, but a loss of magic.
"You get used to it."
The emergence of that deep baritone caused you to gasp again, your hair fanning out behind you as you turned away from the castle to face him. He… was awfully close, you realized, but you were entirely disinclined to release his arm, though you did loosen your grip a bit. The brandy must have been stronger than you thought, because you found yourself incredibly slow on the uptake tonight. "What…?" you asked unconsciously, wincing at the childlike quality of your voice.
"Founder's magic," he explained, tugging on your arm a little to get you moving again, and you followed unquestioningly, still keeping hold of him. "I remember being startled by it too, when I first started teaching. It's not as overwhelming as it was back then, but I still feel it. It gets less intense over time, and almost disappears entirely once the students arrive. More people to share the sensation with. Nox." He extinguished his wand as you entered the town proper, streetlamps and storefronts providing more than enough light to illuminate the empty streets.
It was uncanny, how he could pinpoint exactly what you were feeling. There was no way he could have been peeking in at you either; you hadn't even been looking at him. But all the same… it was incredibly relieving to hear. You appreciated the confirmation that it was indeed simply the latent magic of the school itself that you were feeling. Founder's magic. No wonder it felt ancient, because clearly it was. The castle you'd stayed at in Albania had nothing like it. It may as well have been built by muggle hands for how magical it had felt there. But it was especially comforting to know that it this old magic affected Severus too, once upon a time. That it wasn't just…. you.
"I was afraid…" you began, but instantly bit down on the thought. You'd wanted to wait until you at least had another drink in your hand, but it was already out, and Severus turned his face towards you with so much concern in his eyes. God, that look… You winced guiltily, shifting your eyes back down to your boots because you couldn't bear to look at him while he was looking at you like that. "I was afraid, maybe, that I was more sensitive to it. Because my... My own magic has been out of reach lately," you confessed, a wash of shame flooding over you. It was difficult to admit that you had allowed yourself to get this low. And you hadn't even bothered to tell him about it sooner.
"Gwendolyn…"
You couldn't stand it. You couldn't hear him say your name like that (your real name, your first name, for the first time since you were a girl) without just completely falling apart. You finally pulled yourself away from him, releasing his arm so you could rub your face with your hands, before dragging your fingers through your hair. "Alcohol. Please," you pleaded, finally looking around to get your bearings, and pleased to find you were already at the mouth of the alleyway that lead to your destination. You turned your face to his piteously, jerking your head towards the darkened street. "Before we get into this."
Severus' eyes flicked from your face, to the guttering torch at the end of the street, and back to you. For a moment, you could feel the scrape of beetles skittering around the inside of your skull, and you immediately looked away, down at the cobbled street. Damn it. That wasn't how you wanted to do this. You knew he was just trying to gauge where you were at. Probably debating if letting you have more alcohol was even a good idea right now. But you could make that decision yourself. "I'll tell you everything. I promise. Just not out here, okay?"
There was a pregnant pause, followed by a heavy sigh, and you jolted slightly as he looped his arm back around yours. "As you wish," he conceded solemnly, toting you along towards the Hog's Head, and you smiled ruefully. You felt like a little kid, finding out that it didn't always feel good when you got your way, but… well, you still got your way, didn't you? You allowed yourself to press against him again, holding his arm close to your chest as you ventured down the darkened side street.
The Hog's Head was exactly as you'd remembered it; dingy, dirty, smelling like sawdust and farm animals. There were only a handful of patrons this evening, occupying the assortment of booths and tables around the pub. Most were alone, though a few were clustered in pairs, leaning over their tankards and speaking in quiet voices. But most satisfying was that not a single person looked up when you entered. You greatly appreciated when people were inclined to mind their own business.
Though, that wasn't exactly true. One person had looked up upon your arrival, and the bartender looked just as pissed off to see Severus enter his establishment tonight as he had the last time you'd been here. You actually felt Severus' muscles stiffen under your hands, and you let out an exasperated sigh of your own. You weren't going to tolerate this staring match longer than you had to. You had shit to get off of your chest and you were going to do it in this dinky little bar goddamn it.
With an air of confidence you weren't sure was appropriate for a woman who could barely cast an engorgement charm earlier this evening, you released Severus' arm and walked purposefully towards the bar. Severus followed behind you, perhaps reluctantly; you wouldn't know since you weren't even paying any attention to him. Your eyes were firmly on the barkeep who looked rather startled by your sudden aggressive approach, and you leaned against the counter, already digging into the pocket of your jeans for your money pouch. "A bottle of firewhiskey and two glasses with ice, please. Don't open the bottle. I'll do it myself."
The barman looked appropriately stunned, bushy brows practically meeting his hairline as his eyes shifted from you to Severus. His expression hardened instantly at your former professor, and he opened his mouth to say something, perhaps to protest, but Severus beat him to it, leaning his elbow against the bar and arching a thick brow. "Well? You heard the woman, Aberforth."
Aberforth, apparently, looked fit to burst at being spoken to in such a way, and you found yourself regretting your own bold moves. This was escalating quickly, and if you didn't find a way to diffuse the situation rapidly, there was going to be trouble. Finally extracting the black velvet pouch from your back pocket, it clanked with heavily with coins as you plopped it onto the counter, the sound turning both men's attention back to you. Aberforth still looked forbidding, but with a final glare at Severus, he turned his back on the both of you, walking to the shelves behind the bar. "Six Galleons."
You sighed with relief as you pulled open the strings on your pouch, fiddling around inside before coming up with the required coins, but the sound of gold plinking onto the counter top startled you. Severus had already placed a neat stack of Galleons onto the countertop, and you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, but it was his turn to completely ignore you. With a huff, you plucked three gold coins from his stack, pushing them back over towards him, before replacing them with three of your own. There. Even. This time he did glance at you, brow still arched at your audacity, but you simply stared back smugly, before two dingy looking cocktail glasses were banged onto the counter, a few cubes of ice skidding across the splintered wood. Aberforth swiped up the stack of coins, replacing their spot with a bottle of Ogden's Olde, and Severus rolled his eyes as he reluctantly placed the three extra Galleons back into his pocket before snatching up the glasses.
"I don't want any trouble from you or your girl, Snape," Aberforth growled suddenly, his warning catching you off guard. Severus already had his back turned to the bar, and he lifted one of the empty glasses in passive acknowledgment as he walked towards a circular booth in the far corner of the room. You carefully took up the bottle of whiskey, smiling contritely at the old barman before placing another Galleon onto the counter and following Severus to the booth. Your girl? Is that how this looked to people? You glanced around at the other patrons, none of whom were really paying either of you any mind. You rather liked the sound of being his girl though…
Sliding onto the cracked leather seat circling the booth, you realized there was no comfortable way to occupy the table without sitting directly beside him. Surely he'd just picked the round booth because it was in the most secluded area of the bar, with a rather open view of the rest of it. But as you inched next to him on his left side, you allowed yourself to wonder if he was also looking for excuses to be close to you.
After sliding one of the empty glasses across the stained table, Severus then held his hand out to take the bottle from you. You didn't even hesitate, though you did spare a glance over towards the bar, where Aberforth was still eyeing the pair of you suspiciously. "I uhm… I don't drink unless I can watch the drink being prepared, or I just make it myself," you explained reluctantly as you passed the bottle over. "It was easier to just buy the whole bottle instead of having to go back and forth…"
The look on Severus' face caught you off guard, his expression stony and his eyebrow arched incredulously. It wasn't a look of criticism though. It was one of comprehension, of understanding. Like you didn't need to explain yourself to him. And you huffed out a short laugh, because of course he understood. He'd been there, after all. You simply nodded to him, and watched carefully as he cracked open the seal on the bottle, twisting off the cap and pouring a measure of fiery red liquid into each glass.
"What shall we toast to?" Severus asked as he placed the bottle back on to the table, not bothering to return the cap. Good. There was absolutely no reason to close up the bottle, because you anticipated draining the whole damn thing before the night was through. Lifting your glass from the table, you gazed into it thoughtfully, watching the swirls of water from the melting ice slowly diluting the liquor. There were certainly many options for a decent toast; reunions, fresh starts, a new school year. But all of those seemed trite at the moment. And none of them were the reason you'd come down to the Hog's Head.
"Damocles Belby is an asshole," you declared finally, lifting your glass up and hoping your deadpan was just as solid as Severus'. But Severus couldn't keep the smirk from twitching at the corner of his lip, and that instantly diffused your ire.
"Cheers," he agreed readily as he clicked his glass against your own. "I'll drink to that." You couldn't help but return his reluctant grin with one of your own, because what else could you possibly do but laugh about it? Things were more or less okay now. The storm has passed, and you were still here, if perhaps a little worse for wear. That didn't mean you weren't going to bitch about it though. You screwed your eyes shut as you braced yourself for the burn of firewhiskey, the first swig tasting like petrol and matches.
"So," you gasped, clunking your glass back down on the table as you felt your insides start to incinerate. "You can go ahead and call me an idiot now. Just… get that out of the way." You were mostly teasing, but… you also sort of weren't. You sure felt like an idiot, and you knew the man beside you did not tolerate fools. You'd been expecting a reprimand almost the moment you had penned your last letter to him, and had actually been rather surprised not to receive an owl back after that. But your brain had rationalized it that he was just too disappointed with you to even deign you with a response. You wouldn't have blamed him. So when you pried one eye open to spare a glance at him now, you were surprised to find him actually glaring at you. You straightened up immediately, muscle memory from when you were a student, and you swallowed hard against the fire coating your throat.
The glare broke away almost instantly, replaced instead with a heavy sigh. "You're not an idiot, Gwendolyn," Severus assured you, his tone heavy. He somehow managed to sound both sympathetic and frustrated at the same time. "Ignorant, yes. And perhaps a bit naïve. But not an idiot." He lifted his glass to take a drink, and all you could do was watch on in dismay.
Because that… hadn't been what you were expecting at all. You'd been expecting him to readily agree (he'd called you an idiot so often in the past, you honestly saw it as more of an inside joke than a genuine insult). You thought he would point out all of the mistakes you'd made, the things you ought to have picked up on, things you should have done better. You wondered if he was lying to you just to make you feel better or something, but that wasn't exactly a very Severus Snape thing to do. And yet the truth seemed so much harder to process. "I should have known …" you began, but trailed off as you were faced with another glare.
"How?" Severus asked cynically, shaking his head in disbelief. "I read over the letters Belby sent you when he offered you the job. Nothing seemed amiss then." You winced a little and looked down into the glass between your hands. He… wasn't wrong. You had given him nearly every piece of correspondence you'd exchanged with Belby when he'd first reached out to you in your seventh year, precisely to make sure things seemed on the up and up. "Not to mention… things are just done differently in the wizarding world than they are in the muggle world. Did you even have a contract?"
You grimaced again, shaking your head. No, you certainly hadn't had any sort of contract. But neither did anyone else! The volunteers, the other members of the research team, none of them had any sort of formal agreement with Belby. But you all had received payment on a regular schedule, were housed and fed and treated respectfully (for the most part), so there was no reason to suspect anything malicious might have been at play. As far as you knew, Young and Mali had been fucked over just like you had, with Belby appearing to be the sole man responsible for the potion's development. Though, you couldn't be sure that they hadn't at least been paid off.
Severus tilted his head, lifting one of his hands towards you in a 'well, there you go' sort of gesture, before taking another sip from his drink. "That's not uncommon," he explained earnestly. "Most agreements in the wizarding world are driven by a verbal promise and a handshake. Unless you're making an Unbreakable Vow or dealing directly with the Ministry, almost everything is done on honor system." He huffed out an irritated sigh around another mouthful of firewhiskey, and you remembered you ought to keep drinking your own. It was impressive how he kept a straight face with each sip; you still flinched every time it touched your tongue. "Wizards are unbelievably primitive in that regard. I'm not entirely sure there was anything you could have done differently, aside from not taking the job in the first place." He hit you with an astute look then, his brow arched to punctuate his question. "And that wasn't going to happen, was it?" You wilted a little, but smiled sheepishly as you shook your head. No, that definitely wouldn't have happened.
"Even if you'd had a contract, there's nothing to say that Belby wouldn't have just lied anyway," Severus sighed, plowing ahead. "You were in a different country, doing independent research funded by a private sponsorship. He could have simply claimed your contribution was too insignificant to include you on the patent, and there's not much anyone could have done to refute that." He knocked back the rest of his drink, and reached for the bottle, pouring another measure into his glass, before topping up your own. He seemed rather worked up about this, and it was actually sort of flattering that he was so indignant on your behalf. You thought you were the one who was supposed to be getting things off of their chest. You nodded your thanks and took another sip of your drink; the burn was finally starting to cool, and you were starting to feel the pleasant weight of drunkenness settling into your limbs
Severus finally seemed to have gotten out everything he'd wanted to say, his voice lowering to a much softer tone. "We both know that isn't the case though," he remarked quietly, staring thoughtfully into his glass. "Your name may not be on it, but I could see your work in every single line of that patent. Despite the mess you went though, there's no denying that you made a substantial impact, both on the potion, and on the wizarding world as a whole." He finally lifted his gaze to meet yours, and there was a sincerity there that made your heart pick up speed. "You should be extremely proud of yourself, Gwendolyn. I certainly am."
Well… you'd gotten that reprimand after all, but it had been less caustic than you'd imagined. Mostly because none of his irritation had actually been directed towards you. And it made your heart ache, because he was still fanning the flames of righteous anger on your behalf. He'd always been so unwaveringly on your side, and he still was, after all this time.
"Thank you, Severus," you sighed softly, his name tasting electric in your mouth. That was the first time you'd ever said it aloud to him, and it felt just as exhilarating as the first time you'd written it at the head of a letter. You took another heavy sip from you glass, letting the burn bring you back to the present. "You uh…" you laughed breathily, smiling timidly as you pushed your hair back from your face. "You sound like you've been planning that speech for a while."
Severus snorted, picking up his own glass while leaning both arms against the table. "Lucky you got to hear it now, as opposed to when I'd first gotten your last letter." He glanced over at you, raising his glass to his lips and hiding his smirk behind his whiskey. "It was considerably less refined."
You couldn't help but giggle, but even so, you felt a knot form in your throat. Right. Your last letter. The one he'd never replied to, and the one you'd never followed up on. "I'm sorry for not writing you after I got back" you whispered, unable to make your voice raise any further, for fear of it breaking with unshed tears. The alcohol was not helping you with your rapidly fluctuating emotions, but that wasn't really going to stop you. Your glass not even half empty, you reached across the table any way, plucking up the bottle just to give yourself something to do with your hands. Severus watched with a curiously arched brow as you refilled his cup, and then your own, but he nodded his thanks all the same. "Are you the one who recommended me for Muggle Studies?" you asked abruptly, finding your voice as you set down the rapidly draining bottle, perhaps a little harder than necessary. "Please don't try to tell me it was Professor Sprout again."
Severus huffed into his glass, unable to hide his grin even through a mouthful of firewhiskey. You caught his lie before he could even tell it. But his expression sobered almost instantly after he swallowed, and he looked… almost reluctant. Setting down his glass, he crossed his arms, leaning them against the edge of the table. "I remember how you got, after Lockhart," he explained gravely, and you felt your stomach drop. God you wished you could do something with your hands besides just pick up your glass and drink. "You had made a point to avoid speaking to me back then, so when you stopped writing to me this time…" He sighed, rubbing his forehead with one pale hand. "I feared the same thing might have happened." Head still propped up by his fingers against his temple, he glanced over towards you, and offered a cynical smirk. "I could hardly tolerate your theatrics the last time. I wasn't going to let it happen again without doing something to try and snap you out of it."
You blinked stupidly, hands still wrapped around your glass as your mind reeled from that unbelievably sick burn. "Theatrics!" you squealed, but laugher was already bubbling out of you, because if you didn't laugh, you were going to cry. "You're one to talk!" Tears still split from the corners of your eyes, and you quickly brushed them away with the sleeve of your robe. He was smirking patiently as you worked the tension out of your body with your inappropriate giggling. "How very thoughtful of you," you teased with a wry smile, but it softened into something more genuine as you considered that… it actually had been rather thoughtful.
Sniffling, you rubbed at your eyes one last time before picking up your drink, just holding the cool glass against your sweaty palms. "Thank you, though," you sighed honestly, peering over at him. He was always taking care of you. Even after you had left, while you'd been away, after you'd been gone for so long… All he ever did was take care of you. Gave you Phoenix Tears to protect you, let you vent to him in your letters, sent you a bottle of his own goddamn memory just because he thought it might help you feel better. And then when you'd been at your lowest, when all hope had seemed lost (theatrics), he'd extended yet another lifeline in your direction, a job you weren't even sure you deserved. You owed him so much…
You wiped your eyes again, lifting the glass to swallow down your encroaching tears, allowing yourself to pretend the warmth flooding your chest was just firewhiskey. The swell of affection you felt was directly tied to knowing that it had been his direct influence that had gotten you this job. And that was impossibly reassuring, not just because it reaffirmed his affection for you, but also because it put one of your fears to bed.
"I am relieved to hear that I was considered for the job because you suggested it," you admitted, leaning back against the cushioned bench behind you. Severus reached for the bottle to refill your glass again, and you set it on the table gratefully. "After talking to McGonagall, I was afraid I was only hired so I could look after Remus Lupin."
There was a beat of silence, then. One that stretched for an uncomfortably long time, as you realized your glass was not being filled. You swallowed hard, feeling like a student again as you lifted your eyes to meet his. You hadn't had to do that in a while. And what you found there made your alcohol heavy veins run cold. The last time you'd seen such a grim look on the man's face, had been when he'd thrown open the curtains on that private booth in the Atticus bar.
"Pardon?" he asked quietly, his voice a low and dangerous rumble that made you shiver from the iciness of it.
"Puh…Professor Lup-" you stammered, but were cut off as the firewhiskey bottle thumped against the table, making you jump.
"I know who he is."
You were absolutely breathless with dread now, watching his hand tighten on the neck of the bottle. "R-Right," you stuttered, your slow, drunken brain having a difficult time finding the words quickly enough. Severus looked genuinely enraged, and you couldn't figure out why. "Well, apparently Dumbledore has assigned me to keep an eye on him during full moons." You at least had the presence of mind to speak softly, glancing about the bar, where the amount of patrons had dwindled slightly. Thank goodness. "I'm supposed to help him during his transformations. Cast the barrier spells, tend to his injuries, things like that." The forbidding look on his face just seemed to get darker as you spoke, to the point that you had to look away from him, staring into your glass and you felt yourself shrink into the bench behind you. "I… I guess some of the other teachers were reluctant to allow Lupin on, so having me around was like… insurance. Since I've got the experience dealing with-"
"Jesus Christ, Albus..."
You watched in dismay as Severus sank his face into his hand, before he seemed to remember he was supposed to be doing something and grabbed up the bottle of firewhiskey once again. He filled his own glass first, before draining the last of the liquor into yours and setting the now empty bottle aside. He then proceeded to knock back nearly half of his portion in one go, and you were starting to get anxious. "Severus… What's the mat-"
"You have been exploited by enough manipulative men," he growled viciously, and you were taken aback by the bitterness in his words. That… That's why he was upset? You felt a little something like relief wash over you, though you still felt on edge from the ire in his voice, watching hopelessly as he dragged his fingers through his inky hair. "I didn't think…" he sighed, some of that fury draining from him, as if admitting defeat. "If I had known that Dumbledore was going to task you with being Lupin's keeper I never-"
"Never what?" It was your turn to cut him off, because you had no intention of hearing him finish that sentence. "Never would have suggested I come back?" That stung for some reason, and for a brief moment, your muddled up whiskey brain thought it sounded like betrayal. But the stricken look on his face from your sudden outburst told you otherwise. It wasn't, really… No, in a round-about sort of way, you knew he was just trying to protect you. From Dumbledore. From Lupin, maybe. He'd wanted you to come here, so you could have a fresh start, not so you could be used for someone else's gain again.
You sighed softly, letting your own spike of anger simmer down, before reaching out a hand and wrapping it gently around his forearm. He watched the gesture, and you could feel the muscle tighten under your touch, but it smoothed out almost instantly. "Severus, I'm happy to be here," you assured him quietly, shifting closer to him on the bench as you kept hold of his arm. "I'm… unbelievably grateful, for everything you've ever done for me, but especially for this job. This opportunity." You had to pull your gaze away from his then, because you weren't sure if the buzzing in your brain was from the alcohol, or his piercing black eyes. You'd promised you would tell him…
"I mentioned outside, lately I've just been… so totally out of it. It wasn't just in my head this time; it felt like my magic had completely dried up. It took everything I had just to cast Reducio so I could bring all of my stuff to Hogwarts." You laughed bitterly once more, but you felt a cool hand wrap around your fingers, slightly damp from the chilled glass it had been grasping previously, and it strengthened your resolve to continue. "But it's been getting better, since I got offered the job. It was really bad there for a while, but I'm finally starting to feel normal again. Like I actually have something going for me."
You lifted your eyes to meet his, and it pierced your heart to see that look of concern so plainly on his face. You wondered if alcohol made his expressions more honest. But you offered him a smile anyway, a reassurance that what you were saying was true. "I'm excited to be here… and I can't thank you enough for that. And I don't think…" You swallowed, fearing that was you were about to say was incredibly stupid, but you had to lay it out. "I don't think Dumbledore is… is manipulating me, either. If I'm being perfectly honest, I probably would have volunteered to do it. Tending werewolves is practically old hat for me now, and helping people is a thing I'm still passionate about doing. I'm happy to do it."
The concern in his expression melted away to one that looked dangerously like pity, and you got the feeling that yeah, you were maybe being a little dumb. But he sighed, patting your hand before releasing it, and you slowly let it slip away from his arm. "You're entirely too trusting of people," he chided, staring down into the last of his firewhiskey, as if contemplating whether finishing it, only to be left without any more, was a good idea at this point in the conversation.
You forced a tight smile, but your brow was knit with worry. "Is there a reason I shouldn't trust Dumbledore?" you asked, and your worry only deepened as he rolled his eyes. "You trust him, don't you?"
Severus seemed like he needed to take a considerable about of time to think about that question, and your stomach was starting to roil before he finally sighed. "I do," he admitted, albeit reluctantly.
"And I trust you," you countered, though you weren't sure if it was actually a decent point or not. Severus didn't seem to think that it was.
"Poor decision, that," he muttered, finally deciding to drain the last of his firewhiskey on that note.
You could only smile ruefully, shaking your head as you took a sip from your own glass, not much left in it either. "No, I honestly think it's the only good decision I've ever managed to make."
Silence settled between the both of you, but thankfully, it wasn't an awkward one. Severus was watching the barman closely, who had finally stopped staring daggers at the pair of you once it became apparent you weren't going to cause a scene. And you found yourself staring into the last watered down remains of your drink. It was... peaceful. Contemplative as you recounted your conversation, trying to sort everything out in your drink-addled brain. It was a lot to process, but your body was too concerned with processing alcohol, and much less interested in sorting through your feelings. It didn't matter anyway. As much as you tried to examine the evening as a whole, one thought kept creeping up, over and over again.
You were tired of waiting.
"I guess I ought to address the hippogriff in the room," you proclaimed suddenly, and there was no chance for you to swallow those words back down now. Your heart was suddenly pounding in your throat, blood throbbing in your ears. But you'd finally come to a decision.
Severus pulled his attention away from the bar and presumably his own musings, arching one of those perfect brows, demonstrating one of those perfect deadpans as he turned to face you, his cheek resting in his hand. "And which hippogriff might that be?" he asked dryly, and you offered him a wobbly smile in return.
"How I think I've been in love with you since I was sixteen."
You were met with silence again, and you'd sort of been prepared for that, watching with mounting anxiety as he lifted his face from his palm, placing both hands on the table as he stared back at you. His expression was one of… what was it? You could tell what it wasn't. He wasn't angry or upset, which was good, because that had totally been an option. But on the other hand, he didn't look shocked or surprised either, which was what you'd kind of been expecting. Instead he appeared resigned, almost reluctant, and for the first time in a very, very long time, he pulled his eyes away from yours.
"Severus…" you asked nervously, swallowing down your apprehension as you reached out your hand again. He didn't tense up this time as you settled it against his upper arm, but he did sigh through his nose as he finally lifted his eyes to meet yours. And what you found was a familiar expression… of so much concern in his coal black eyes. "You… already knew that." It wasn't a question. Just a quiet statement. And one that filled you with a mix of excitement and dread.
"I'm not dense," he asserted, shrugging his arm away from your touch. "Though, I do admit I was in denial." He couldn't maintain eye contact, his gaze shifting, almost nervously, from you, to the table, to just about anywhere else that wasn't directly at you. And that put a little more weight on the 'dread' side of the scale. "You, ah… wouldn't be the first student with an ill-advised crush on me, though they are few and far between." You felt the littlest bit of relief at this little self-depreciating jab. Things weren't so dire that he had to stop being sarcastic. "I had always assumed it was just the same sort of infatuation you harbored. But…" he trailed off, his eyes finally fixating on his hands, fingers fidgeting slightly in the increasingly awkward silence.
So you hadn't been the first, and probably not the last. That wasn't all that surprising. He was a tall, dark, mysterious man in black, after all. But… he'd left off with a 'but', so that meant something had been different. About you. Specifically. "What," you groaned and cleared your throat as your voice cracked with an embarrassingly high squeak. "What gave me away?"
He seemed to loath to hear you ask that, raising those fidgeting hands to instead rub both of his eyes with his fingers. There was a pause as he seemed to consider the merits of answering truthfully or not. You took the opportunity to try and soothe your parched throat, lifting your glass to your lips to swallow down melted ice and the last of the firewhiskey when he finally answered, "Your sketchbook."
You might have thought he had timed his answer like that on purpose, as you sputtered the last remains of your drink down the front of your shirt at that exact moment. But he hadn't even been looking at you, so it had just been a real honest to god cartoon spit take. As if you needed another reason for your face to start burning scarlet. He was certainly looking at you now though, his elbows propped up on the edge of the table, his hands still raised from where they'd been covering his eyes. He was watching you with puzzled amusement as you clunked down your empty glass, trying to wipe the already settling water stain from your blouse. And decidedly not looking at him as you asked incredulously, "My what?"
You were momentarily startled as a handkerchief was suddenly materializing before you, and you glanced over to see that Severus had his wand out again. You took the square of white fabric from where it hovered in the air, and sighed gratefully as you began to dab at your blouse, though you wondered why he didn't just magic the stain away himself. It was his fault anyway.
"The first night we were at The Atticus," he began to explain, setting his wand down on the table. "You'd left your sketchbook out on the bedside table. After I'd gotten back from the bar, I was admittedly a little…" He lifted your glass, rattling the last chips of ice around meaningfully. You nodded your understanding, and he continued, pushing both your glasses and the empty bottle toward the far side of the table. "So when I got into bed I just… picked it up and started flipping through it, not thinking much of it at the time. You're very talented with your botanical illustrations but… that obviously wasn't all that had been in there." Your face had gone beyond scarlet now as your shoulders sank, twisting the damp handkerchief in your hands as you remembered exactly all that had been in that goddamn fucking black velvet sketch book. He offered the smallest of apologetic smiles. "It was all very tasteful though, which I appreciate."
You gazed at him in wonderment before huffing out a disbelieving laugh, covering you burning face with the handkerchief. "You were my muse there for a while," you admitted from behind the swath of cotton, and allowed yourself the momentary privacy to get yourself together. You remembered that night. Vividly. Because you hadn't been asleep when he'd returned to the room. You also remembered falling asleep to the sound of turning pages.
"So… You knew," you said finally, comprehension dawning on you as you dropped your hands from your face, and the handkerchief to the table as you gazed over at him. Gone was his smile, replaced again with that concern, that hesitancy. "That's what you meant. When you said that you knew. After…" you swallowed, remembering how he'd looked at you then, just as he was looking at you now. "After Lockhart."
He dropped his gaze again, before nodding his head slowly. "I knew you were under the influence of a shitty love potion," he explained, and your eyebrows perked up at the expletive. Had you ever heard him curse before? "And I knew the things you'd said in the elevator had not been a reflection of your… genuine sentiments, about me." You finally saw some color reach those high pallid cheeks of his. And whether it was from the alcohol, or… something else… you didn't care either way.
Moving closer to him, you slowly reached one of your hands across the table, curling your fingers around his where they rested on the roughened wood. He didn't twitched or pull away, so you gently slipped your thumb under the cuff of his coat sleeve, feeling the smooth skin and delicate bones usually hidden under layers of black fabric. You could feel a soft tremor in those bones, but he was also watching your every move, which was exactly what you'd wanted to see. "Those sentiments are still pretty genuine," you assured him, and tightened your hold on his hand as he dropped his head.
"I can't imagine why," he muttered, and you felt your heart sink.
Oh that… that wasn't what you'd been hoping to hear. You could feel your heart return to its rapid pace in your throat as you lifted your other hand, pushing back a swath of dark hair from his face, smoothing your palm over the ridge of his jaw. He was forced to look at you then, his dark eyes brimming with trepidation. "You don't believe me?" you asked softly, sliding your thumb along the hollow of his cheek. Touching him… it felt electric. Like magic. Like how you felt back at Hogwarts. Like you had come home. And you wanted him to feel it too.
"No, I… I do," he murmured, his gaze flitting from your eyes, to your lips, and you felt your breath hitch. "You've always been… very sincere."
You didn't hesitate. Closing the distance, you pressed your lips to his, allowing yourself to become overwhelmed by the smell of teakwood, the lingering taste of firewhiskey, the pulse of his heartbeat under your fingers as your cradled his jaw. It was soft, chaste, an innocent first kiss, and yet you could feel the culmination of the years behind it. His shuddering breath was warm against your cheek, and he was still trembling under your touch. It was this tremor that gave you pause, a flicker of fear that this had been the wrong move, that you'd pressed your luck too far. You gasped softly as you made to pull away…
But then his hand was on your waist, keeping your right where you were, and you smiled against his mouth. "Gwen," he managed to breathe, before you inhaled his words, and finally he started to kiss you back. Disentangling your fingers from his hand, you slid them up the length of his arm and down his collar, before stopping to rest over his heart, where it pounded thunderously against your palm. In turn, his freed hand found its way into your hair, cradling the back of your neck as he held you close, yielding his mouth to yours.
You were breathless as he finally drew back, but you kept your forehead pressed to his as your eyes fluttered shut. You didn't want to stop. You wanted to sink into him, to taste his mouth, to run your tongue over his uneven teeth and swallow his moans like nourishment. But your head was swimming, for so very many reasons, and when he lifted a hand to brush your cheek, it took everything you had to open your eyes again.
"It's late… and we need to go back," he muttered against your lips with a heavy sigh, and you frowned slightly. How dare he suggest something as sensible as returning to the castle in the middle of the night? "And we need to talk about this tomorrow. When there isn't half a bottle of firewhiskey between us."
And just like that you were smiling again, dipping your head down to peck a quick kiss against his lips one last time, before your buried your tired face into his shoulder. "Okay," you mumbled into his coat, and you could feel his silent chuckle under your embrace. He shifted, wrapping both of his arms around your shoulders, and you accommodated, mirroring the gesture around his lithe waist. "I don't want to go back though," you whined petulantly, even though you had just agreed to it mere moments ago. You wanted to stay right here, in this empty little bar, where no one was watching, and you didn't need to worry about tomorrow…
"Me neither," he sighed into your hair, and you were at least comforted to know that you weren't the only one.