Sheer mind numbing embarrassment led to Faith avoiding Snape, or Severus as he was beginning to call himself in her head, for the next few days.
Her visit down to his to rooms was a slightly hazy memory, but she remembered smiling a lot. And sitting on the floor. And all in all displaying a near total lack of dignity. It was extremely humiliating. And the state she'd turned up in the first place! Sweating, shaking, virtually in tears with no self control at all. And what had possessed her to wear that nightdress? Humiliating.
But there was no way she was doing without this potion now she had found it. The way it eased through away the pain and terror had been… well… miraculous wasn't too strong a word. She had no way of knowing how long the curse would stay in her body, but she would swallow anything that promised to make it slightly more bearable. She also felt much better the next day, she was considerably stronger.
On the down side that was the first time in a while she had actually scratched herself so badly. In the hospital they had had to put her in a straight jacket so she didn't slit her own wrists or scratch out her eyes. She still had faint bite marks on her wrists from where she had tried to rip the veins out with her teeth.
So this potion, was, in the unlikely event there were any gods, a god send. But if it was going to make her wander round like a dazed hippy she wanted to do it in private.
She had been almost overwhelmingly relieved when Snape had cornered her at lunch, and told her to come and see him in the evening to get a large batch he had prepared. It had taken a huge amount of effort to keep her expression neutral.
So, here she was. Banging on Snape's door and hoping like hell he wouldn't mention her pathetic, out of control conduct.
That didn't seem immensely likely.
She heard him snap at her to come in, and walked into the usually immaculate laboratory. Usually immaculate, right now it was filled with billowing, rancid, blue smoke.
"My God, what are you making?"
"Termination potion," an acid voice replied. A hand emerged from the smoke and pulled her away from the cauldron.
Faith gulped as the familiar smell hit her. Horrible, she felt suddenly sick and dizzy. She shook her head to try and clear out the fumes, and felt him pull her out of the cloud and push her onto a bench.
"Are you alright?"
She glanced up blearily at Snape. He was looking at her with his usual expression of mild disgust and complete unconcern.
Shaking her head she managed to mutter,
"Fine."
He shrugged and turned to wash his hands. Funny really. He had much broader shoulders than you'd expect. She shook her head again, bloody smell. Actually why wasn't he wearing any protective clothing? He only had that fine, linen shirt on…
Faith screwed up her eyes. Bizarre, Snape's clothes were not an interesting topic. Unless you enjoyed soliloquies on the colour black. And yet more black. And the many different shades of black…
A glass of water was slammed down on the table next to her. A drop of it flew over the side and landed on her hand.
"Drink this."
"You're in a charming mood today." She sipped the water, it felt like ice running down her throat. "Thanks."
He turned away from her and she decided that since he was obviously determined to be a bastard, she could be an evil bitch right back.
"Why are you making termination potion anyway? Knocked up one of the students?"
He paused and she saw the muscles in his back tense up, then he turned back to her and drawled softly,
"Your pathetic attempt at humour is as deeply sad as it is crude."
"And you're being a total bastard today, but am I complaining?"
"It must deeply trouble my parents to have the validity of their marriage questioned as often as they do. I however could not give a damn."
Faith was annoyed to find she couldn't think of a retort to that and decided to just sit there until he finished cleaning up. Since she had no wish to go and inspect the shelves of slimy things in jars, she began to watch Snape.
He moved very gracefully through the haze of smoke. Elegant really. Elegant and arrogant. He bent over the sink briefly and Faith realised he must exercise or something because, quite frankly, his arse was…
Two thoughts struck her at the same time. The first one was she was looking at Snape's arse, and that was a twisted and sick thing to do. The other was that he when he straightened up in second he was going to bash his shoulder on that shelf really, really hard! And then, just as he did this, she saw the jar jump, tilt and fall straight into the cauldron below…
"Severus look out!" She yelled and leapt up, but it was too late! The jar had crashed into the potion and it splashed everywhere in a purple, toxic haze.
Snape jumped back, but the burning liquid covered his front, instantly bleaching the black shirt white. He cried out in pain and staggered backwards against a bench.
Faith ran forward and pointed her wand at the fires under the cauldrons,
"Extinguisho!"
She then grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the billowing smoke to the room next door. She slammed the door shut and put a sealing charm on it, before spinning round to face him.
"Get your shirt off!"
"What?" He looked stunned.
"Your shirt! Get it off!" She ran forward and began tugging at the linen that hadn't been bleached.
"What? What the hell are you doing? Ah, God, Fuck!"
He cried out as her hand brushed over the burnt skin.
"You need to get your fucking shirt off! It's got toxic fucking poison on it!"
Part of Faith's brain seemed to become detached and took control. The other half panicked.
The cruelly observant part pointed out that he was probably confused because he wasn't used to young women trying to undress him.
But he suddenly seemed to grasp what was happening and he helped her pull his shirt over his head. But the laces at the top caught on his nose and in his hair. Faith swore and ripped the shirt open to get it off.
His (strangely very attractive, her detached mind pointed out,) chest, had pink stains spreading over it. She swallowed in fright as she saw a slight scratch on his chest beginning to leak and turn purple.
She looked around helplessly. They were in some sort of bathroom, right, good. Sink, cabinet, toilet, definitely a bathroom. Probably attached to the work room in case of accidents like these. But she didn't know what to do! She turned frantically towards him and he gasped out,
"Cold water. Just cold water."
She soaked a flannel in the sink and forced herself to slow down and breathe. She held her hands in the water for a moment and watched the tiny bubbles float between her fingers. She had to, just had to, stay calm.
He was sitting on the toilet. His eyes were fluttering open and closed, and long lashes flickered against his cheeks.
"Severus?"
He nodded shakily and his eyes opened to meet hers. The pain in them made the panic rise up again, but she managed to whisper,
"Tell me if I hurts okay?"
He nodded and she knelt between his thighs. The detached mind pointed out the twisted sexual parody this was. The other part yelled at it to shut up.
She rested the fingertips of her left hand on his stomach and raised her right to his chest.
He gasped as she gently ran the flannel over his chest till the whole of his upper body was soaked.
"Feel better?"
"A bit," he mumbled.
She looked up and forced herself to smile at him. His eyes were still glassy and feverish, but he was watching her from under heavy eyelids, from under those amazing lashes…
Detached mind hit the other part and pointed out she was being ridiculous.
Faith pulled herself up, running her fingers soothingly up his torso. She felt his breathing speed up and she murmured at him to be calm, that she was sorry, that it had to hurt.
She raised the flannel to the cut and met his eyes. He nodded slightly and she dripped water into the scratch.
He jerked, and a strangled noise of pain came out of his throat.
She dropped her left hand to his thigh to steady him and whispered softly, gently, incoherent words of comfort as she cleaned out the slice in his skin.
Finally his breathing became more normal again and she sighed in relief. The panic was slowly ebbing away, and Detached Mind was jumping up and down and pointing out that, one, she was now even with Snape, and two it would be a shame if his chest scarred because it was really wonderful to touch. Soft, smooth skin stretched over hard, wiry muscle.
She swept the flannel down so it passed over his nipple. She'd lifted her left hand to his waist again and felt a shiver run through his body.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" She looked up at him in alarm and he stared right back at her. She felt unable to move as she just gazed into those black, searching, staring eyes.
She tried to force herself to move, to tear her gaze away, to do whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. But breaking the moment wasn't possible, wasn't any sort of option, was no option at all.
Her hands took over where her mind had stopped, and ran the flannel over his chest again, over the nipple. She felt him shiver again, saw the expression on his face tighten. She tried to say sorry but the ability of speech, of her mouth doing anything other than closing on his was impossible, was idiotic, was…
That thought stopped her and she looked away, staring at the floor. This was Snape, this was weird and wrong. She couldn't quite remember why, but it was.
Her hand ran across his chest and over his heart. It was racing. Detached Mind was suddenly confused, why was his heart racing? He didn't seem to be in that much pain anymore?
She didn't like the feel of his heart beating so fast. It was too vulnerable, too human, too much a sign of the fragile skin and bone that held him and her and everyone together. Too weak.
She ran the cloth across to the other side of his chest. She didn't want to hurt him, but didn't have a lot of choice, and the feel of the muscle under her hands was, distracting. Yes distracting from, well she was supposed to be running her hands over his chest, so it wasn't really distracting. She loved the scattering of hair too, just perfect, manly, but not too thick. The way it lead down to the waist band of his trousers too…
As the cloth moved over his other nipple he shuddered even more and his hand gripped the toilet seat.
That wasn't pain Detached Mind told her.
She stood up suddenly and almost slipped in the water that had dripped onto the floor.
"The smoke, the smoke should have cleared."
"Yes." His voice seemed to have come from far away.
"Should I, is there, anything more, I mean…"
He stood up shakily and leant on the top of the toilet, shaking his head as though to clear it. His chest gleamed dripping wet. Faith felt her mouth go dry.
"No. I need to see Poppy though."
He stood up straighter, and she was oh so aware of how all the muscles in his chest flexed, and the heat and the pounding of the blood in her body.
"We should probably perform the bubble head charm. I don't trust the air."
"No." Yes speech! Speech was good! Speech was normal! Yeh!
He looked down at the torn and stained shirt on the floor.
"That was extremely expensive."
That comment made her snap, she had been terrified and panicked, then crawling with bizarre and completely unexpected lust, her head still ached from the smell of the bloody potion, and that was just enough, she was getting out of here!
"Well I'm so fucking sorry! It's such a shame about your bloody, sodding, shirt! Next time you're covered with a potentially deadly poison I'll just leave you there! Not that that will matter to you in the slightest, since your clothing budget is obviously far more important than someone helping you!"
She put the charm on herself, stalked out through the room, slammed the door behind her and marched through the dungeons.
When Faith reached her own rooms she lent against the door and realised she was trembling. Her heart was beating far too fast, and she felt sick and faint. Bloody potion, bloody Snape. She could still smell the termination potion in her hair and on her clothes. It was a terribly invasive smell, she'd forgotten how much it clung to you, she could even taste it in her mouth, like rotten tar. The fumes also seemed to have clung to her skin, there was a thin layer of the foul stuff glued to her hands, neck and face.
She needed a bath.
While the bath was running she knocked back two glasses of vodka. It might also scald her throat, but it numbed her senses of smell and touch. The slippery stuff on her skin didn't seem quite as bad and her nose didn't feel so infected. The vodka also dulled her memories of the mad panic that had run through her blood.
As she soaped up her hair she wondered if all strong potions left this layer of grease on you. It would explain Snape's complexion anyway. It wasn't like someone who worked his stuff could risk not washing.
Snape. She ran more hot water and tried to work out her reactions to him. It was obviously lack of sex. Her body had decided that not having sex in three years was ridiculous, so she was going to uselessly fixate on someone.
She took a drag from the vodka bottle. Life was very different now from when she was twenty two. At twenty two she been heading for a complete mental breakdown, and already had one suicide attempt behind her. Her life had been a sprawl of drink, drugs and casual sex. The mess with Sirus Black escaping, and the necessity of ploughing through the files on the Death Eaters had removed any small hope for humanity she had had. The whole thing had cumulated in a weekend orgy that she had come out of pregnant and half dead. It had been the final straw for Eloise, who forced Faith into rehab, and for awhile, things had looked steadier. Faith had aborted the baby without feeling much more than a twinge of guilt, and life had appeared slightly easier.
As well as breaking off drugs, Faith had also broken off all sexual contact. She had confirmed her worthlessness with her promiscuity for three years and it had half killed her. While she was not stupid or optimistic enough to hope for someone 'special' to come along, she had decided to leave sex till she found someone half way decent. This hadn't happened. Not that she wanted it to, but her body had clearly decided she should get laid anyway.
But, Faith squirmed in the water, it was, awkward. Even the idea of having sex brought back memories. Of squalid night clubs with stained velvet chairs, grimy alleys with the rain dripping down the walls, backs of cars and vans. The few times when she hadn't wanted to, but had been too drunk, tired or stoned to resist. When it had been easier to just lie back and stare at the ceiling rather than press the word no, not exactly rape, but…
She was twenty five and the last time she had sex with any sort of meaning to it she had been nineteen. And that had all ended in tears.
When she had once, falteringly and drunkenly, tried to explain it all to Dumbledore. He had said she shouldn't feel guilty about the whole thing. It had been the deep depression, the desperation for any kind of human contact or approval, for any way of alleviating the terrible numbness inside her that had made her live that life. It wasn't her fault.
Her brain, Remus and Eloise knew this and agreed with him. But the small rotten organ that passed for her heart did not.
And Snape? She dunked her head under the water again. God knows why she was attracted him, or what if anything, she was going to do about that. Although apologising for yelling at him would probably be a start. She had been so scared… But the thing was she had reacted to him. She thought she had driven that tingling feeling completely away. That had been the first time in years just being in someone's presence had made her feel anything. She could imagine touching him and not just feeling cold…
This was all going to end up in a complete mess. But right now she was just too tired to work it all out.