The room was so still it seemed as though the mere scraping
of a quill against the paper was echoing. Ron Weasley stole a glance
at the man supervising his detention, Severus Snape. Snape glared
down his thin nose at the boy before turning back to grading the
day's essays.
Ron sighed mentally. //I suppose it's now or never...// He
mustered up all his courage, his heart fluttering like a bird in a
cage,
and said, "Um, Professor Snape, I've forgotten how to to properly
measure the acid leaves. Could you, er, maybe come over here
and...show me?"
Snape sighed exhasperatedly and arose from his desk, the
chair scraping across the floor. He strode over to Ron's table,
muttering, "Honestly, fool boy, it's not that damn hard..."
He leaned over the boy's shoulder to chopped the acid leaves
into fine, even strips. Ron could smell the musky scent that wafted
from his silken black hair. It sent small shivers up his spine. He
relished that smell best he could without letting on, not paying
attention to a word Snape was saying.
He stood up, pretending that it was so he could give Snape
more room to work. He glanced at the professor from the corner of
his eye, his lean figure somewhat visible through his robes as he
leaned over to demonstrate how to stack the delicate strips on the
scale making Ron's crotch spring to attention. How could something
so beautiful be a Slytherin Snape looked at him sharply.
"Understand now?" he spat.
Ron stood up straight, and inhaled deeply. //Now or never
now or never now or never,// he chanted in his mind like a never
ending mantra. "Actually, Professor Snape, I didn't listen to a word
you just said," he said, trying to keep his voice even.
Snape looked livid. He straighted right in front of Ron, not an
inch shorter nor taller than the teenager, and yelled, "How the hell
are you
going to learn if you never listen?! God, are you as useless as you
act?! Do you know how to do anything right, boy?!!"
"Yes," Ron said firmly, his courage forming higher, his blood
pounding throughout his body surging him onward.
"What, then?!"
"This." And as soon as the word had traveled out of his mouth
into Snape's ears, before he could back out, he grabbed Snape's
shoulders and nearly bruised his lips with a fiery kiss.
Snape couldn't believe what was happening. This Gryffandor
student, who had almost daily claimed to loath him so, was now
latched onto him like a boy in love.
And maybe he was.
Only one way to find out, Snape resolved. He let himself
loosened and leaned into the kiss, parting his lips slightly, waiting
to
see if Weasley was doing this on a dare or - the impossible - if thin
line between loathing and adoration had been crossed.
Ron had awaited the rejection, the venomous words that
would likely lead him to a suicide contemplation that night. He knew
he could be rash like that. From the age of fifteen, Ron had been
contemplating ways to let his teacher know...should he simply talk
to him after a class? Leave love notes in his office? Throw him on
his
desk and fuck him senseless? A few weeks ago he had decided this,
staging a detention and then making first move, would be best; he
could always blame it on a bet. But feeling Snape letting himself be
kissed was more than he could have dared want. He gentled the
kiss, allowing his tongue to softly glide into the waiting mouth,
savoring the moment he had wanted for years.
Snape very suprised by this boldness. It was becoming
increasingly obvious that Weasley was doing this on his own terms,
no dare involved. He had to admit to himself that the boy was a very
good kisser. He was tender and sweet to the taste, backing away
from his initial brute force and acting like a timid virgin succuming
to a far-off fantasy that he only believed came true in faery tales.
Ron, though enjoying this moment, was dying to know what
Snape's reaction was to all this. He slowly pulled away, lingering
on
his lips, and opened his eyes.
Snape's eyes fluttered open, his lips still just barely parted.
He looked at Ron, drew back his hand, and slapped him hard across
the face.
Ron clutched at his cheek, feeling hot tears already forming in
his eyes. Not at the pain flooding through his face, but the pain
flooding through his heart. He KNEW this was a horrible idea, he
KNEW it. He looked up with watery eyes and a shattered heart at the
man he had adored, wishing he could die right there.
"That," Snape hissed, "was for not paying attention to what I
was instructing."
He grabbed Ron by the arms and pulled him up to stand at
his full height. He saw the pain in those reddening eyes shine like
blood on a fresh wound. "And this," he whispered, stroking Ron's
unviolated cheek with the back of his innocent hand, "is for opening
my eyes."
He just barely let his lips graze Ron's delicate mouth, closing
his eyes and
wrapping his suprisingly lithe arms around his waist.