The Mirror of Erised
Chapter Twenty-Two
By Jewel Little Bird
Fleur swam the length of the bathtub, humming to herself. It was more like a swimming pool. Since she had her own soap and shampoo, she'd only filled it with hot water. She stretched, and then arched her back so that her hair was submerged in the water. She straightened, reached over, grabbed her shampoo, squeezed some into her hand, and proceeded to wash her hair.
Snape had been right... somewhat. She'd wanted someone other than herself to blame, and the fact that he had been a Death Eater seemed to make him a perfect target. So, she'd set out to make him hurt as much as she hurt.
I am not like him, she thought stubbornly. He has murdered people. He is a cold, sadistic man. He doesn't care about anyone but himself.
No, that can't be right, a voice inside her head replied. Remember last night?
The Night Before:
Fleur cried into her hand, feeling ten times worse than she did before. Just like this Death Eater? She couldn't be!
His hands gently pulled the cloth from her limp fingers; there was a rustle as the Mirror of Erised was covered once again. Then strong arms enfolded her into a warm embrace. Not caring that it was Snape, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wept. "Je ne veux pas qu'il soit mon défaut," she sobbed, "mais elle est. J'ai eu un mauvais sentiment au sujet de rapporter Gabrielle, mais je l'ai ignoré. Je devrais avoir su mieux. Elle est morte en raison de moi."
"Non," he whispered, pressing his face into her hair. "Non, ce n'est pas votre défaut. Vous n'avez eu aucune raison de la suspecter seriez tués." She couldn't help noticing that his accent was terrible.
For five minutes, they sat like that, just holding each other. Slowly, her tears stopped, and she was able to think more clearly. Although pale, she noticed that Snape wasn't a weakling; she could fell the muscles in his arms as he held her. He was no muscle man, but he was fit. She lifted her head a bit.
His hair wasn't greasy. It was....
"You use 'air gel?!" she asked before she thought. She immediately clamped her mouth shut.
He seemed more amused than angry. "Yes. I wash it on a regular basis. However, it's frizzy unless I use something to slick it down."
Present Time:
She allowed herself to giggle hysterically as she tried to picture him with frizzy hair. She kept picturing him with an Afro. She arched her back again to rinse her hair until it was squeaky clean. Really, Snape wasn't all that bad. Well, alright, maybe he was; he seemed to enjoy being nasty. As she straightened again, her eyes finally saw what had been standing in the doorway for the past few minutes. She froze, looking like a deer trapped in the beam of Muggle headlights.
Luckily for her, so did Snape.
She regained her composure first, quickly crossing her arms so that her breasts were reasonably covered. "Filch said zat none of ze teachairs bathed in zis room on Wednesday night!" she snapped angrily, aware that she was blushing.
He scowled. "For your information, I bathe at 4:30 in the morning when it's guaranteed that no one will be around. However, Neville Longbottom destroyed yet another cauldron today by making it explode. After having to pick up that mess, I figured I needed to soak for about an hour before I went to bed. When I asked Filch if any of the bathing rooms would be free, he said this one was."
"Maybe he forgot about me."
"I doubt it. This seems like just his idea of a joke."
She finally looked him up and down. She was entitled to; hell, he'd just seen every inch of her there was to see! In his arms he carried a folded nightshirt, briefs, and towled. He was wearing a black, floor-lenth bathrobe which covered everything except....
Her eyes widened as her face became the same color as a ripe tomato.
He looked down, then back at her. His face flushed as he lowered his burden so that his "pet" was covered. "I will return in thirty minutes," he snapped angrily. "Hopefully, you will not still be here by then. I have to go yell at Filch." With that, he turned and left, leaving Fleur to sink into the water from embarrassment.
@
End of Chapter Twenty-Two
Fleur swam the length of the bathtub, humming to herself. It was more like a swimming pool. Since she had her own soap and shampoo, she'd only filled it with hot water. She stretched, and then arched her back so that her hair was submerged in the water. She straightened, reached over, grabbed her shampoo, squeezed some into her hand, and proceeded to wash her hair.
Snape had been right... somewhat. She'd wanted someone other than herself to blame, and the fact that he had been a Death Eater seemed to make him a perfect target. So, she'd set out to make him hurt as much as she hurt.
I am not like him, she thought stubbornly. He has murdered people. He is a cold, sadistic man. He doesn't care about anyone but himself.
No, that can't be right, a voice inside her head replied. Remember last night?
The Night Before:
Fleur cried into her hand, feeling ten times worse than she did before. Just like this Death Eater? She couldn't be!
His hands gently pulled the cloth from her limp fingers; there was a rustle as the Mirror of Erised was covered once again. Then strong arms enfolded her into a warm embrace. Not caring that it was Snape, she wrapped her arms around his neck and wept. "Je ne veux pas qu'il soit mon défaut," she sobbed, "mais elle est. J'ai eu un mauvais sentiment au sujet de rapporter Gabrielle, mais je l'ai ignoré. Je devrais avoir su mieux. Elle est morte en raison de moi."
"Non," he whispered, pressing his face into her hair. "Non, ce n'est pas votre défaut. Vous n'avez eu aucune raison de la suspecter seriez tués." She couldn't help noticing that his accent was terrible.
For five minutes, they sat like that, just holding each other. Slowly, her tears stopped, and she was able to think more clearly. Although pale, she noticed that Snape wasn't a weakling; she could fell the muscles in his arms as he held her. He was no muscle man, but he was fit. She lifted her head a bit.
His hair wasn't greasy. It was....
"You use 'air gel?!" she asked before she thought. She immediately clamped her mouth shut.
He seemed more amused than angry. "Yes. I wash it on a regular basis. However, it's frizzy unless I use something to slick it down."
Present Time:
She allowed herself to giggle hysterically as she tried to picture him with frizzy hair. She kept picturing him with an Afro. She arched her back again to rinse her hair until it was squeaky clean. Really, Snape wasn't all that bad. Well, alright, maybe he was; he seemed to enjoy being nasty. As she straightened again, her eyes finally saw what had been standing in the doorway for the past few minutes. She froze, looking like a deer trapped in the beam of Muggle headlights.
Luckily for her, so did Snape.
She regained her composure first, quickly crossing her arms so that her breasts were reasonably covered. "Filch said zat none of ze teachairs bathed in zis room on Wednesday night!" she snapped angrily, aware that she was blushing.
He scowled. "For your information, I bathe at 4:30 in the morning when it's guaranteed that no one will be around. However, Neville Longbottom destroyed yet another cauldron today by making it explode. After having to pick up that mess, I figured I needed to soak for about an hour before I went to bed. When I asked Filch if any of the bathing rooms would be free, he said this one was."
"Maybe he forgot about me."
"I doubt it. This seems like just his idea of a joke."
She finally looked him up and down. She was entitled to; hell, he'd just seen every inch of her there was to see! In his arms he carried a folded nightshirt, briefs, and towled. He was wearing a black, floor-lenth bathrobe which covered everything except....
Her eyes widened as her face became the same color as a ripe tomato.
He looked down, then back at her. His face flushed as he lowered his burden so that his "pet" was covered. "I will return in thirty minutes," he snapped angrily. "Hopefully, you will not still be here by then. I have to go yell at Filch." With that, he turned and left, leaving Fleur to sink into the water from embarrassment.
@
End of Chapter Twenty-Two