Nine
At first I didn't think it was anything to get too excited about. The entire room was dark and only the embers from the fireplace cast a slight glow around us. Otherwise the entire place was black as pitch. I released my things from their charm and heard them drop heavily onto the carpets behind me. Snape closed the door and came into the room. He swept past me and lit a few candles. Then he lit a few more. What I saw when the place was bathed in light took my breath away.
I was standing in a huge circle of a room, three times the size of our bedroom back in Ravenclaw house. Under my feet lay a beautiful oriental rug that stretched right to the edge of the floor and met the bottom of the wall. It was circular as well and looked as though it had been woven for this room specifically. It was a deep green color with black and silver flowers, birds, and trees adorning it. To my right was the fireplace, where Snape stood rebuilding the fire in the grate. In front of the fire were a large green sofa and two overstuffed armchairs. The armchairs at on either side of the sofa and were separated from the sofa by an end table on each side. The tables were made of the same mahogany as the door and were buffed and shined so finely that I could see a reflection of the room in them as if they were mirrors.
The walls were all stone, and dark, and hung with portraits of landscapes, scenery, and one or two people who I was sure must be relatives. An old wizard with long black hair and ice green eyes whispered to his female companion in one picture, and she giggled coolly while watching my every move. Blown glass ornaments adorned the mantle, and an oriental style tapestry hung above it. To my left stood a strong mahogany four poster. It must have been king sized because it looked so big I thought I might get lost if I were to crawl into it. It was spread with a green feather duvet and each of the four posts was carved with the most beautiful flowers and vines I had ever seen. I thought it may have been an illusion but the leaves that were carved in them seemed to quiver in an unseen breeze and the birds atop each of the four posts seemed as though they turned to look at me.
There were two doorways directly in front of me, and though they were open I could not see what lay beyond them because no light was lit inside either of the rooms. Severus finished with the fire and was able to sneak up on me because I was so busy looking at everything. I had never seen a ceiling so high in all my life, and while I had my head thrown back to take in the volume of the room I was startled to feel a soft kiss being placed upon my cheek. I jumped and backtracked a few paces. He had caught me off guard. He hadn't tried to kiss me since that night I fell off my stool in detention and it felt uncomfortable and natural all at once. Half of me wanted to run over to him and snog him until he couldn't stand it any more, but the other half of me, the half of me that still harbored memories of the pain and ache that had been inflicted on me at the hands of other men, retreated. He looked hurt for almost a second, but quickly composed himself and pretended that it didn't matter one way or the other. I didn't know exactly what to say so I just said nothing and continued to drink it all in.
"Are you hungry," I heard him call a few moments later from inside the doorway on the left. I turned my attention there and called out that I wasn't. "Thirsty?"
Gods I was thirsty. I hadn't realized it until now but my throat was dry as a desert. "Actually, I think something to drink would do me well just now." I heard glasses clinking and a bottle being opened. I could hear something being poured and eventually he reemerged with two tall glasses of wine. Wine? Maybe it was juice.
He handed me my glass and I sniffed it tentatively. No, it was wine alright. It was a light red wine and smelled a little on the fruity side. Was that strawberry that my nose detected? I looked over to Snape and he smiled at me. I must have looked rather naïve.
"Do you not drink alcohol," he asked me somewhat quietly.
I thought for a moment about how best to answer that question without admitting that I'd never drunk a drop of alcohol before in my life. "It's just that I -"
"I'm not going to get you drunk and compromise your morals," he cut me off. Well, in that case. I nodded and took a cautious sip. It took everything I had not to pucker my face up at the bitterness of it. However there was a slight sweetness to it that I supposed I would be able to detect more and more as I acquired my taste for the stuff. I crossed the room with my glass and plopped myself down upon the sofa, which was warm from the fire that was now roaring before it. I drew my legs up to my chest and wrapped one arm around them. I laid my chin upon my knee and watched the fire consume itself within the grate.
My hair was beginning to dry and I was beginning to lose the gooseflesh I had suffered from earlier. I let out a yawn and took another, longer sip, allowing the liquid to burn its way down my throat. It was a sensation that was both good and bad at the same time.
Before long Snape set his glass down upon the table beside me and I heard him slide his cloak off. He laid it across the back of the sofa behind me and then walked around between the fire and myself. I shivered in his shadow and wished he'd move, but I wasn't about to return his generosity by being rude and telling him to get out of my light.
I looked up at him as I took another sip and felt as though I was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time. He looked the same as he always had, physically, but there was something in him now. He was showing me a side of himself that I was quite sure very few people and no students had ever seen before. He was looking down at me with his arms crossed and a tight expression on his face. Suddenly I longed to see him smile as he had that first night. He was so beautiful when he smiled.
We stayed that way for a decent amount of time, him staring at me and me reflecting his gaze back to him. Then he sighed and took a seat beside me. I handed him his glass from the table to my left and he took it, his fingers brushing mine lightly as he did. My breath skipped and I think he realized it because he looked hard at me before taking a long sip of his drink. I curled myself up and wrapped my arm around my legs even tighter. And that's when I felt it. A heavy arm was laid around my shoulders and I was falling into him, leaning against the crook of his arm. It felt so natural to lay like that, the side of my head resting on his slightly rising and falling chest. There was that familiar smell of sage and cinnamon wafting around us like magic. Like a charm. I breathed in heavily and finished off what was left in my glass.
I was quite sure I hadn't been this relaxed in quite some time. Eventually he finished off his glass as well and then placed both of our vessels on the table to his right. He wrapped his arm tighter around my shoulders and I leaned in closer, burying my face in his chest. I wanted to fall asleep just like this. He took my arm in his free hand and inspected it.
"The scarring healed nicely, didn't it," he asked.
I nodded my head and muttered a stifled "uh huh," which came out more like a moan against the thick fabric of his tunic.
"And yet I'm of the impression that the emotional scars re still quite intact." He eased the question out, trying not to scare me back into myself.
I thought hard for a moment about whether or not I really wanted to get into this with him, or with anyone for that matter. I hadn't dealt with these issues, really dealt with them in so long. Of course Dumbledore had done his little counseling thing, and I had answered his questions honestly. But I was still internalizing them to myself and abusing myself, trying to find the reason why these things had happened to me. Why I had been so easy to mutilate and objectify that way.
And then, without warning, the tears began to flow anew. I was a silent crier, the type to never sob or blubber, just simply allow the tears to flow freely. I'm quite sure he wouldn't have even noticed my crying if it hadn't been for the fact that the tears were soaking through his tunic. He didn't say anything, but he placed the hand that had been encompassing my shoulder on my head and stroked my hair the way he always seemed to do when I was crying. When the tears started to come down harder he turned me around so that my legs were stretched out and my back was leaning against him. He turned so that my back was to his chest and his legs swathed my waist. He wrapped both arms around my chest protectively and began to rock. The gentle back and forth motion was enough to lull me into a fitful sleep. I'm not sure when he actually laid me out and covered me, placing a fat feather pillow under my head. All I know is that I woke up much later on that sofa, enveloped in my blanket, fighting to see around me in the dim light of the embers, and alone.
At first I didn't think it was anything to get too excited about. The entire room was dark and only the embers from the fireplace cast a slight glow around us. Otherwise the entire place was black as pitch. I released my things from their charm and heard them drop heavily onto the carpets behind me. Snape closed the door and came into the room. He swept past me and lit a few candles. Then he lit a few more. What I saw when the place was bathed in light took my breath away.
I was standing in a huge circle of a room, three times the size of our bedroom back in Ravenclaw house. Under my feet lay a beautiful oriental rug that stretched right to the edge of the floor and met the bottom of the wall. It was circular as well and looked as though it had been woven for this room specifically. It was a deep green color with black and silver flowers, birds, and trees adorning it. To my right was the fireplace, where Snape stood rebuilding the fire in the grate. In front of the fire were a large green sofa and two overstuffed armchairs. The armchairs at on either side of the sofa and were separated from the sofa by an end table on each side. The tables were made of the same mahogany as the door and were buffed and shined so finely that I could see a reflection of the room in them as if they were mirrors.
The walls were all stone, and dark, and hung with portraits of landscapes, scenery, and one or two people who I was sure must be relatives. An old wizard with long black hair and ice green eyes whispered to his female companion in one picture, and she giggled coolly while watching my every move. Blown glass ornaments adorned the mantle, and an oriental style tapestry hung above it. To my left stood a strong mahogany four poster. It must have been king sized because it looked so big I thought I might get lost if I were to crawl into it. It was spread with a green feather duvet and each of the four posts was carved with the most beautiful flowers and vines I had ever seen. I thought it may have been an illusion but the leaves that were carved in them seemed to quiver in an unseen breeze and the birds atop each of the four posts seemed as though they turned to look at me.
There were two doorways directly in front of me, and though they were open I could not see what lay beyond them because no light was lit inside either of the rooms. Severus finished with the fire and was able to sneak up on me because I was so busy looking at everything. I had never seen a ceiling so high in all my life, and while I had my head thrown back to take in the volume of the room I was startled to feel a soft kiss being placed upon my cheek. I jumped and backtracked a few paces. He had caught me off guard. He hadn't tried to kiss me since that night I fell off my stool in detention and it felt uncomfortable and natural all at once. Half of me wanted to run over to him and snog him until he couldn't stand it any more, but the other half of me, the half of me that still harbored memories of the pain and ache that had been inflicted on me at the hands of other men, retreated. He looked hurt for almost a second, but quickly composed himself and pretended that it didn't matter one way or the other. I didn't know exactly what to say so I just said nothing and continued to drink it all in.
"Are you hungry," I heard him call a few moments later from inside the doorway on the left. I turned my attention there and called out that I wasn't. "Thirsty?"
Gods I was thirsty. I hadn't realized it until now but my throat was dry as a desert. "Actually, I think something to drink would do me well just now." I heard glasses clinking and a bottle being opened. I could hear something being poured and eventually he reemerged with two tall glasses of wine. Wine? Maybe it was juice.
He handed me my glass and I sniffed it tentatively. No, it was wine alright. It was a light red wine and smelled a little on the fruity side. Was that strawberry that my nose detected? I looked over to Snape and he smiled at me. I must have looked rather naïve.
"Do you not drink alcohol," he asked me somewhat quietly.
I thought for a moment about how best to answer that question without admitting that I'd never drunk a drop of alcohol before in my life. "It's just that I -"
"I'm not going to get you drunk and compromise your morals," he cut me off. Well, in that case. I nodded and took a cautious sip. It took everything I had not to pucker my face up at the bitterness of it. However there was a slight sweetness to it that I supposed I would be able to detect more and more as I acquired my taste for the stuff. I crossed the room with my glass and plopped myself down upon the sofa, which was warm from the fire that was now roaring before it. I drew my legs up to my chest and wrapped one arm around them. I laid my chin upon my knee and watched the fire consume itself within the grate.
My hair was beginning to dry and I was beginning to lose the gooseflesh I had suffered from earlier. I let out a yawn and took another, longer sip, allowing the liquid to burn its way down my throat. It was a sensation that was both good and bad at the same time.
Before long Snape set his glass down upon the table beside me and I heard him slide his cloak off. He laid it across the back of the sofa behind me and then walked around between the fire and myself. I shivered in his shadow and wished he'd move, but I wasn't about to return his generosity by being rude and telling him to get out of my light.
I looked up at him as I took another sip and felt as though I was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time. He looked the same as he always had, physically, but there was something in him now. He was showing me a side of himself that I was quite sure very few people and no students had ever seen before. He was looking down at me with his arms crossed and a tight expression on his face. Suddenly I longed to see him smile as he had that first night. He was so beautiful when he smiled.
We stayed that way for a decent amount of time, him staring at me and me reflecting his gaze back to him. Then he sighed and took a seat beside me. I handed him his glass from the table to my left and he took it, his fingers brushing mine lightly as he did. My breath skipped and I think he realized it because he looked hard at me before taking a long sip of his drink. I curled myself up and wrapped my arm around my legs even tighter. And that's when I felt it. A heavy arm was laid around my shoulders and I was falling into him, leaning against the crook of his arm. It felt so natural to lay like that, the side of my head resting on his slightly rising and falling chest. There was that familiar smell of sage and cinnamon wafting around us like magic. Like a charm. I breathed in heavily and finished off what was left in my glass.
I was quite sure I hadn't been this relaxed in quite some time. Eventually he finished off his glass as well and then placed both of our vessels on the table to his right. He wrapped his arm tighter around my shoulders and I leaned in closer, burying my face in his chest. I wanted to fall asleep just like this. He took my arm in his free hand and inspected it.
"The scarring healed nicely, didn't it," he asked.
I nodded my head and muttered a stifled "uh huh," which came out more like a moan against the thick fabric of his tunic.
"And yet I'm of the impression that the emotional scars re still quite intact." He eased the question out, trying not to scare me back into myself.
I thought hard for a moment about whether or not I really wanted to get into this with him, or with anyone for that matter. I hadn't dealt with these issues, really dealt with them in so long. Of course Dumbledore had done his little counseling thing, and I had answered his questions honestly. But I was still internalizing them to myself and abusing myself, trying to find the reason why these things had happened to me. Why I had been so easy to mutilate and objectify that way.
And then, without warning, the tears began to flow anew. I was a silent crier, the type to never sob or blubber, just simply allow the tears to flow freely. I'm quite sure he wouldn't have even noticed my crying if it hadn't been for the fact that the tears were soaking through his tunic. He didn't say anything, but he placed the hand that had been encompassing my shoulder on my head and stroked my hair the way he always seemed to do when I was crying. When the tears started to come down harder he turned me around so that my legs were stretched out and my back was leaning against him. He turned so that my back was to his chest and his legs swathed my waist. He wrapped both arms around my chest protectively and began to rock. The gentle back and forth motion was enough to lull me into a fitful sleep. I'm not sure when he actually laid me out and covered me, placing a fat feather pillow under my head. All I know is that I woke up much later on that sofa, enveloped in my blanket, fighting to see around me in the dim light of the embers, and alone.