Bittersweet.

Chapter 1 Desire.



The room was dark and quiet, with no light through the tiny window to illuminate the sparse bed and simple furniture, as the Hogwarts potions Master woke from a deep, sleep, induced by one of his own potions. The only way, for many years now he could ensure a peaceful night sleep.

Severus Snape sat on the edge of his narrow bed and slowly pulled his nightshirt over his head, wandered across the room to the washstand and filled the white, porcelain bowl with cold water from the jug. He splashed the water over his face to revive his drowsy state making cold streams trickle from his drenched hair, down his throat and the small of his back, then he lifted his head and stretched his wiry frame as he dried his face and neck.

It was peaceful as he dressed for the day ahead, a clean shirt and his usual black robes even though this was Sunday. So no classes to attend, but his one weekly visit outside the grounds; to Hogsmeade to replenish his supply of ingredients for the coming weeks lessons.

He made his own tea, rather than face the noisy, inquisitive children in the Great Hall and left his dungeons early in the hope of avoiding any unwelcome attention.

The air outside was heavy with thick fog, making it cold and damp, so he pulled his voluminous cloak around himself and made his way out of the castle grounds towards the village.

There were few people about that early and Snape went straight to the apothecaries for his supplies; he had quite a list, as it seemed most of his students this week had either blown up or destroyed all they touched. He scowled at the thought of some of the idiotic children he had to teach this most exacting art of potions; his one passion.

The witch behind the counter didn't look up as he entered the shabby store but said good morning to him all the same; he was there every Sunday at that time and so she continued fussing with some packages ready for despatch.

"Here" and he put the list down and then turned away from the woman and stood looking out of the glass pane in the door.

"Why don't you take a seat, I'll be a while getting all this prepared".

"No, I'm fine". And continued to stare aimlessly ahead.

"It's a miserable morning, Professor" The crone continued, but she got no answer.

After almost an hours silence she gave a little cough, "There you are, Sir everything's in order, I'll put that on the Hogwarts account shall I?"

Snape gave a cursory nod and left.

The fog was lifting now, the sun trying to break through the heavy cover over Hogsmeade. Snape squinted as the low winter sunlight shone in his direction; someone was walking his way, silhouetted against the misty stream of light. She held her head high and her loose hair streamed behind her, it was long and silver in colour; if a colour it was, it was almost translucent. As she passed she looked straight ahead, and although her beautiful crimson cloak billowed close to him, she didn't acknowledge his presence.

Snape returned to the castle and thought no more about it, until that night when a shaft of light across his bed, brought to mind, her hair, like moonlight streaming behind her; but a dose of sleeping draught and she'd be out of his mind, again.



Life carried on much the same that week, the usual hopeless students, with no interest in his work, only waiting for the end of the lesson, then Sunday again and his weekly trip to the village. As he stood in the dusty shop, half listening to the chattering old witch, he saw that figure again walking up the lane towards the village.

"Haven't you finished, yet" he called impatiently.

"Oh no Professor, in a hurry?"

"Yes I'll come back and collect that". And he left without even a glance at the crone.

He looked up the lane to see the woman striding away, he stood transfixed by the swirling crimson cloak, and her hair, it moved like it was sheer silk and just as she was out of view he moved, almost against his will, after her. He caught up with her in the heart of the village, and as she continued she glanced his way, then turned down a narrow alleyway. He couldn't follow her there, so returned for his supplies.

That night Snape lay awake trying to capture her face in his memory, from that brief glance. He didn't take his potion that night, he didn't want to forget, but to dream; tonight he wanted to dream.

Another week went by, but she was nowhere to be seen as the Professor walked through the village, if only he could ask someone but he couldn't draw attention to himself; whom could he ask, anyway. As he stood waiting for his supplies, he considered the witch, but just as he thought it might be safe to trust her, the enchanting woman entered the shop, right before him. Instinctively he stepped back into the shadowy room and watched her intently as she stood at the cluttered counter. He couldn't hear her as she leaned towards the old woman and asked her for something. The witch smiled at her and gave her a small package, from under the counter; then the elegant figure turned, and her eyes flickered towards Snape, but she said nothing, as she left the shop.

"That woman", Snape ventured at last.

"Yes" the old crone smiled as if she knew what he wanted, "Yes she's new here, works at The Three Broomsticks I believe, she's got the old cottage behind the Inn".

Snape lowered his gaze, he didn't feel like making eye contact with this witch when she seemed to have guessed too much already.

"I'll take these, thank-you". Then he hurried out, not waiting to hear the old woman's amused cackle.



But she had vanished so he walked towards the Inn to find her. This was not somewhere he would normally go, so as he walked in a few heads turned to see the stranger. He surveyed the scene and took a seat in the far corner of the smoky, little, pub, a waitress appeared and took his order, but it wasn't the girl he was looking for. He drank his whiskey in one shot and stood up to leave, then the object of this unscheduled visit confronted him.

"Leaving so soon", she said with a smile on her face.

He stopped dead, then simply nodded.

"Didn't I see you earlier, in the apothecaries?" she questioned.

"Yes, I saw you there" he replied as he jet-black eyes scrutinised her features;

a fine nose, full lips and the most mesmerising eyes.

"Maybe I'll see you there again" and she turned away from her admirer, who left without a second glance.

Again that night he wanted his mind alert, to re-capture her voice and her eyes, they were, like her hair, shimmering silver-grey, almost cat-like and he lay awake trying to hold on to the image in his head.

The next week seemed a strain even though lessons and work passed by without event; he was distracted as thoughts of that mysterious woman drifted into his mind, even Professor McGonagall seemed to have noticed, as she tried to engage him over supper one evening.

"Severus, you haven't listened to a word I've been saying, have you!" She barked at him in frustration.

"Sorry Professor, I was just thinking"

"Well really Severus, whatever has got into you" and she turned to talk to the Headmaster.

He pondered her reaction, if he had told her, his thoughts were taken by a woman he had only briefly spoken to, and his thin mouth, made an ironic attempt at a smile, that went unseen by everyone in the Great Hall.

But at least now it was Saturday and as he went to bed, he thought of seeing her again, of the touch of her silken hair, the soft drape of her cloak..

He woke in a cold sweat, his heart racing and his phallus erect, and as he lay starring into the darkness he let his hand relieve his aroused state; he felt euphoric as he moved from erotic tension to total submission. The years of self imposed restraint over. He was drained and sleep came easily then.