Author's note: Is anybody but Blaise—thank you!—reading this at all? Hello? *voice echoes in the void*
Chapter 9: Come Closer
For a moment the world turns its back
And you let me come closer
--HIM: Dark Secret Love
"Wake up, Harry!" Harry heard Ron shout from the common room—and ignored him completely. It was much too comfy in bed—even more so, since Ginny was curled up next to him.
The Christmas holidays had begun and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had Gryffindor Tower almost all to themselves. A few younger students were staying over Christmas also, but their number was considerably small—not even a dozen Gryffindors in total—and none of them were in their seventh year. Thus, the four friends had decided to change the sleeping arrangement, meaning that Harry and Ginny had the boys' dorm, Ron and Hermione the girls' dorm all to themselves.
"HARRY! Stop snogging my sister—or whatever else you might be doing—and come down!" Ron shouted. Always with his mind in the gutter… "It's Christmas! There're presents and you're going to sleep all day?" Oh, yes, and now you're trying to sound innocent, huh? Sleep, yeah right.
Ginny grumbled something in her half-sleep that sounded suspiciously like, "Shut up, you git," and snuggled closer to Harry.
Mmm… Nice…
Harry had just decided to allow himself to drift off again when—
"It's lunchtime, you two. Try to keep your hormones in check and come down!" Hermione joined in and then squealed. "Stop it, Ron!"
"I'm taking it back! Go on snogging and whatever else you might do!"
Harry chuckled and noticed that Ginny, too, sniggered.
"See you at the feast!"
"That's not until tonight," Harry said.
"Well, then we'll have to find something we can waste away the time, huh?" Ginny said, hoisting herself up on her elbow, so her sleepy and dishevelled head appeared close enough for Harry to perceive every detail about it, even though he wasn't wearing his glasses. If he had, Ginny would have taken them off of him.
"What exactly is on your mind?"
"Something we'd not like being disturbed by any house-elf while we do it." She giggled softly and bent down to kiss him. "A repetition of last night, perhaps… You think Ron was serious about meeting us at the feast? That's quite a long time…"
"Well, I'm not quite sure but Hermione might just make him study something for the N.E.W.Ts before she… erm… lets him have any."
"Don't give me ideas, Mr Potter," Ginny teased.
"But I'd so love to give you ideas—although on a different sector, Miss Weasley."
"And on which?" She kissed the tip of his nose.
"More than one, actually…" Harry said, rolling her on her back. "But all of them are somewhere on you."
"This could prove interesting, Mr Potter," she said huskily and snaked her arms around his shoulders. "It will, won't it?"
"I sure hope so, Miss Weasley."
Harry began kissing her slowly, nibbling and teasing, as they had all the time in the world. Who cared about a Christmas present when they had Ginny in their arms? Ginny, whose fiery hair was spread all over the pillow, whose hot little hands were all over his body, whose soft lips desperately sought to kiss Harry's.
The Christmas feast seemed to be taking place all too soon…
But eventually they got dressed—interrupting themselves several times with long and sweet kisses—and went down into the common room, where they were soon joined by Hermione and Ron. The latter complained loudly that they had actually been studying for an hour or two, but was much more discreet about the time that had not been spent studying.
After quickly opening their presents—Mrs Weasley had sent the obligatory maroon sweater for Ron ("She knows I hate maroon!") and an emerald green one for Harry (the Dursleys had sent a wad of cotton wool)—they went down into the Great Hall. As could be expected they all were quite hungry—for food.
On their way there they went past especially decorated suits of armour which had once again been taught a few Christmas songs—although in most cases incomplete, as they were forgetting whole lines. Peeves loved to fill in the blanks for them whenever possible.
Almost everyone was already there when they finally arrived.
The Great Hall was beautifully decked out. A dozen tall Christmas trees had been set up, decorated with magical, non-melting snow and many-coloured ribbons, stars and other sparkling ornaments Harry had no name for. Rings of mistletoe had been woven into magically glittering loops and placed onto the one table that was set up in the centre of the room, and some of it was hung on the ceiling, too. Harry was convinced Ginny only drew him that way because of that lovely tradition that you had to kiss when you met someone under it. He didn't mind in the slightest as that was exactly the place where Harry's relationship with Ginny, formerly merely loose and on a friendly basis, had taken a turn to the more serious side, to a very serious side to be precise.
"I can hardly wait for the food to arrive," said Ron, expectantly scanning the table up and down, when the doors opened and Professor Snape entered the Great Hall. He stopped after a short distance and turned around. Footsteps were echoing through the Entrance Hall and a figure dressed all in black with layers of robes—although without the formal wizard's robe—fluttering after her rushed through the doorway, stopping dead in her tracks as she caught sight of Snape. It was Professor Ravon. "Am I late?" she asked.
"Not to my knowledge," the Potions master answered.
She furrowed her brows. "Then why are you staring at me as though I had stood you up?"
Ravon was right; Snape was indeed staring at her as if she'd done just that. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but Hagrid's booming voice kept him from doing so. "Mistletoe alert!" the half-giant shouted happily, grinning from ear to ear, or at least Harry thought so, since all he could actually see was a lot of facial hair and the twinkle in Hagrid's eyes…
Professors Snape and Ravon exchanged somewhat horrified glances, looked at the few teachers and students who were staying over Christmas, before chancing a look at the ceiling where the very object of their dismay hung, glittering innocently.
"Are you as eager as I am to see what they're going to do or rather not do?" Ginny whispered into Harry's ear.
"Ah, yes, the mistletoe. Brings up memories, doesn't it, Gin?" Harry sighed exaggeratedly.
"Just imagine the possibilities those two would have then…" Ginny grinned.
"Snape and Ravon? Nah. They might not exactly loathe each other, but they are nonetheless… well, they don't get on with each other very well," Harry replied.
"No DADA teacher as of yet has gotten on with Snape remotely well."
"There's always a possibility," Hermione said, extricating herself from Ron's grasp so she could lean over towards Harry and Ginny. "It has worked with you two after all."
"Hermione, please stop this," Ron pleaded. "You know I am susceptible to getting horrible mental images…"
Hermione harrumphed and fell silent. That was a good thing since the entertainment was about to continue. Having stared at the mistletoe for several long seconds the two Professors swallowed and looked at each other again. Then they spoke just loudly enough to be overheard.
"I could have sworn that this thing was not there when I entered but over there instead…" Professor Ravon pointed to a now empty space a few yards away from where they were standing. It was remarkable how thin her mouth could go, how much she could narrow her eyes in suspicion when the occasion called for it.
"I think you're right. This has been done on purpose…"
"It seems to be so."
"Do we actually agree on something for a change?" Snape asked, more than a hint of amusement in his voice as she glared at him, but couldn't reply since…
Dumbledore interrupted their discussion. "Now? What are you waiting for? I'm quite sure both of you know what 'mistletoe alert' means—if I weren't I could tell from your expressions," he said, clearly enjoying himself, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles.
Ron stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep himself from howling with laughter at the look on the Professors' faces, while Harry pressed his lips tightly together. Hermione and Ginny were shaking with silent laughter already. And the few other students fared not much better—which brought them all quite exasperated glares from the objects of their sudden hilarity.
"I'm not going to contribute to that," Professor Ravon jerked her thumb in direction of the not only slightly amused audience, "any longer." She sighed. "Let's get it over with." She jerked her hair back, steeling herself for something Harry didn't even dare imagine.
"That's a good idea even though it's coming from you," Snape answered.
Bickering like a married couple, Harry thought, those two could give Ron and Hermione a run for their money. Harry choked at what he was implying to himself. Nah. No way. Not Snape…
"It's unlucky to ignore the mistletoe," Professor Trelawney—she had actually come down from North Tower for the Christmas feast—stated in her infamous misty voice. "It will bring you—."
"Sybill, please, no death predictions on Christmas. The new millennium is going to start soon, so you'd do well to save your predictions for the year two thousand," McGonagall said, rolling her eyes. "A much more suitable background for visions of the apocalypse, don't you think? Tripe, Sybill?" McGonagall waved her hand loosely in direction of a plate with said delicacy on it.
Trelawney tsked, but fell silent, taking great interest in the arrangement of the huge many-coloured rings on her hands.
"Unlucky, huh?" Professor Ravon said sceptically. "Either way I'm never going to see the end of this…"
"Finally something we'll have in common," Snape answered and looked alarmed when a displeased Professor Ravon suddenly stood on tiptoe and planted a very quick kiss on Snape's cheek.
Harry saw Ron wince and grimace. Hermione nudged him in the ribs. Ginny looked a bit disappointed and as she noticed Harry looking at her, she whispered, "What? We did better."
"Yes, we did. Much better…" Harry whispered back.
"Now, Sariss, I' seen students do better 'n tha'," Hagrid, who was slightly inebriated—as always on Christmas—teased. "An' even ol' Professor Dumbledore here," he coughed, "right, Professor McGonagall?" No one else would ever have dared to state this quite as openly.
McGonagall blushed and obviously had to bite back a snigger at that as she covered her mouth with her hand, her cheeks going quite rosy all of a sudden.
Snape glared at them, exasperated.
Ravon snorted, then rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of herself.
Snape spoke up and said, "Just a minute," and pulled her a bit away from the highly interested audience before he leant in on her to whisper something in her ear…
~*~*~
I kissed his cheek. Oh my!
What was it like?
Really strange.
"Now, Sariss, I' seen students do better 'n tha'," a very drunk Hagrid teased. Well, he still can't resist eggnog, can he? "An' even ol' Professor Dumbledore here, ahem, right, Professor McGonagall?"
Dumbledore and McGonagall under the mistletoe? Sariss smirked. What a sight that must have been… She would have loved to see them embarrassed for a change—but obviously the two of them found it quite funny. Well, it would have provided a good laugh—if Sariss hadn't been in the same situation with the Potions master.
Of all people, it had to be him! He was being almost constantly unfriendly and when he wasn't for a change, he made her feel uncomfortable or as if she owed him something (which she kind of did…). And to think she had actually started to like him a bit by the time she'd graduated from Hogwarts…
And now she had kissed his cheek and it hadn't even remotely felt as revolting as she had thought it would…
What the hell, she thought—you don't see Snape in a situation like that every day—not even when you're a Slytherin and see him more often since he's your Head of House and—.
Oh, Merlin's beard! What is this… this… man doing now?
Severus Snape had grabbed her by the arm quite unceremoniously and pulled her away from the students and teachers who were clearly enjoying themselves. All of them—perhaps with the exception of Trelawney… He leant in and said softly, "I challenge you."
"Challenge me to do what exactly?" she whispered back, her eyes wide.
Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…
His hot breath on her neck made her feel so… so weird… And the way his robes smelt… A bit peppery, bitter, similar to wormwood, the fragrance of herbs and potions, also a bit smoky as though he had stood near an open fire or bent over the cauldron for quite some time… She'd never noticed that before. It made her feel oddly dizzy.
"To do what's required to be left in peace—finally," he replied. "You said it yourself. Let's get it over with."
"You're actually insinuating that we ought to… kiss?" she asked disbelievingly.
What's gotten into him lately?
"Not insinuating, woman, flat-out telling you."
"Wh-what if I refuse?" she asked shakily.
"Would be unlucky," he breathed into her ear, stirring her hair with his breath. Sariss, in turn, could hardly breathe without experiencing this dizziness that she wasn't too comfortable with.
Oh, gods…
Think straight, Sariss Electra Ravon, you can do this. It's nothing, really. Everyone does it. It doesn't mean anything. There's not much of a difference between a cheek and a pair of lips, is there?
"Well, we… wouldn't want that now, would we?" she said, letting a hint of a smile cross her features.
At second thought, this could prove to be quite fun. Just imagine the students' faces…
Yeah, sure. Snape and me—what a couple… Not really. I want to get out of here…
Really? I think not.
Shut it.
"Precisely." He drew back from her, and she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. This had been simply too close. "Now that we have settled this… Were we standing exactly… there?"
Sariss gulped and nodded shakily, following him. "Uh-huh." She could feel a dozen or so pairs of eyes boring into her as she looked at the Potions master.
He reached out with his hand, touched her chin lightly and tilted her head up. A shiver raced through her at his touch. His hand was warm, not cold as one would have expected when looking at him.
Then he lowered his mouth to hers, closer and closer he came until his lips lightly brushed hers, sending an even more intense shiver through her. She closed her eyes, totally unable to keep them open any longer.
Time had slowed down considerably as soon as he'd touched her. His scent invaded her senses all too completely, making her feel ever more dizzy.
So tentative he was, so gentle, hardly touching her at all. The thought had crossed her mind that he'd take advantage of the situation… but he did not. Recently he hadn't done many things she'd have expected him to do—such as run straight to Dumbledore and spill the beans about Sariss's nervous breakdown. However, he must have told him where Sariss headed on a regular basis since the headmaster hadn't been very much surprised when they had discussed the matter of visiting the grave. So Snape had kept his promise. She had to grant him that he'd managed to surprise her with such subtlety and discretion.
The mistletoe-induced kiss, too, was subtle. Had she so badly misjudged him?
This feels… nice… somehow… lovely even…
Sariss had to fight back a sigh that threatened to escape her.
I could get used to that… a little voice spoke up in the back of her mind—a voice that was a bit too forward for Sariss's taste. Yet, she didn't have the mental strength to tell it to shut up any longer.
Sariss felt her heart beat faster—.
CRASH!
Snape and Sariss all but leapt apart, startled.
"Oh no, not again," Sariss moaned almost inaudibly, looking at Dumbledore whose glass of pumpkin juice had shattered, soaking the tablecloth.
"Must have dropped it," Dumbledore mumbled.
She was surprised at herself that she cursed inwardly about the fact that they'd been interrupted. This hadn't been that bad after all…
You liked it! Don't deny it. You did.
I might.
I knew it! I knew it all the time!
The room was completely silent for a few seconds, and then Hagrid started to clap and shouted, "Well done!" and the other people joined in.
~*~*~
"What are they talking about?" Ginny asked, clearly straining her ears, the little curious one that she was.
"No idea. Maybe they're devising a plan to wriggle out of this…" Harry replied.
"Pity. I was hoping for a good laugh," Ron stated dryly.
"I thought this would give you a horrible mental image?" Hermione.
"It's just that—." Ron.
"Shh. Quiet. They're finished, I think…" Ginny interrupted them and drew their attention back on the Professors.
"Now that we've settled this…" Snape said casually. "Were we standing exactly… there?" He walked to the space below the mistletoe and pointed to the floor.
Professor Ravon agreed, nodding slowly, and walked to the spot he'd indicated.
"They aren't really going to—"
They were! Good heavens! Harry thought he could hear several jaws including his own simultaneously hit the floor as Snape stooped and kissed the DADA mistress full on the lips—thankfully only for a few seconds—until Dumbledore accidentally broke his glass of pumpkin juice and apologized immediately for it.
Harry gathered his jaw up again. He was speechless—unlike Ron who made a noise and a gesture of disgust. The girls, however, sighed and grinned, as Hagrid shouted "Well done!" and clapped, as well as Dumbledore. The other teachers joined them after a second and even Harry felt obliged to applaud when he saw Ginny do so.
"Isn't it romantic?"
"Yes, kinda sweet…"
"It's Snape!" Ron mouthed in horror.
Harry and Ron first stared at each other and then at the girls as though Hermione and Ginny had suddenly grown second heads.
~*~*~
"I'm going to kill them nonetheless," Sariss muttered. Snape caught up with her as she briskly walked up to the part of the table where the rest of the staff members were already gathered.
"Whom exactly are you going to kill?" Snape asked curiously. "Dumbledore, Hagrid—me, perhaps?"
This man's sense of humour is unbelievable…
"I haven't decided yet," she hissed back, "whoever brought up that tradition."
Robes billowing behind them the two of them made their way to their respective seats. Sariss glared smugly at Dumbledore, trying to apply an expression to her face that said something along the lines 'You did that, didn't you?' But she was unable to keep the glare up for much longer than one or two seconds when she saw Dumbledore's eyes twinkle—as usual, or even more.
And as she moved to fill her goblet with some pumpkin juice and leant forward a bit, she heard him hum innocently, a broad, satisfied smile on his face. Not to mention Hagrid and McGonagall's expressions! Flitwick had disappeared under the table; only the tip of his wizard's hat was showing and it was shuddering. The little fellow must be sniggering really badly… And Trelawney had disappeared again; obviously, McGonagall's lacking respect for Divination had driven her back to her lair…
"What is it now?" Sariss asked, noticing that Snape had buried his face in his hands and was shaking his head. She cursed inwardly that she couldn't see his face because of this damned long, greasy—
(…but nonetheless sensual and certainly very soft…
Don't you dare even go there!)
—hair of his. What was he thinking?
"Now that was something one doesn't see every day," Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows at Sariss, who felt her face go warm and mimicked Snape's gesture. He, unlike her, had apparently guessed what was to come from Dumbledore and the others…
Then why did he do it nonetheless?
I have no idea.
Perhaps you do…
~*~*~
Later that night, when the feast was over and everyone had retired, Severus sat in his office. Alone. It was more of a home to him than his rooms.
He didn't do anything but stare into emptiness, trying to forget her softness, hoping that this kiss wouldn't become another scar, as there wasn't much room on his heart, mind, or soul left for something like that, when—
Sharp pain shot through his arm, violently reminding him of the one reason why he'd never live a carefree life again. The Dark Mark was burning. The Dark Lord called.
And Severus was to obey.
He knew what day it was. He knew what would happen that very night. He had been dreading it. Another as of yet innocent soul would descend into Darkness—and this one had been destined to do so since the first scream had torn from its owner's throat. A new generation of Death Eaters was being formed and one more added to the list of souls that would be lost to peace and warmth—and love.
Suppressing a groan of pain, Severus got up, snatched his broomstick and went to join his master for a very special night.
He arrived simultaneously with a dozen other Death Eaters at their momentary meeting place and took his position in the wide circle. The sheer number of the Dark Lord's servants was breathtaking. Everyone seemed to have been called and had come. Crabbe, Goyle and Nott had brought their sons. They had been initiated earlier that year already. The Parkinsons were there, both of them. Their daughter would most likely be initiated on her eighteenth birthday the following year. If Severus recalled correctly, it was in June. Wayne Bulstrode's daughter might become a Death Eater, too. Severus had grown aware of the fact that there were more and more witches added to the Death Eaters' ranks…
There were so many children… They'd be the second lost generation. They'd be betraying those who thought them friends; they'd recruit them or kill them. It was a never-ending circle of death.
And Severus was part of it. Still.
"Tonight, my faithful servants, we will add one more to our considerable number. Contrary to most of you, he has been prepared for that honour all his life," the Dark Lord said. "Step forward, novice."
A tall, slender, hooded figure stepped forth, followed by another one with much the same stature and bearing.
"Lower your hood, Draco," Lucius Malfoy hissed and his son obeyed. His pale pointed face appeared as he did so. He looked expectant and proud. Had Severus looked the same way? He wasn't sure if he had hidden his fear as completely as this boy could…
"My Lord," the boy said and gracefully lowered himself down on one knee so he kneeled before his future Lord and master.
Lucius' grey eyes glinted coldly in the torchlight. It had come as a surprise when Narcissa had married him. At school, she had been in Severus's year. Lucius was twelve years her elder. She had been so light-hearted and carefree until she'd caught Lucius' cool and calculating eyes. Even though she was a half-blood, he'd married her. Because she'd been beautiful; and she couldn't simply refuse his advances, since her family had been poor and, more importantly, in danger. It simply didn't do, marrying a Muggle during those times when you were a pureblood. They were no more now. The Dark Lord had made sure of that.
Narcissa was still beautiful, but she wasn't the same anymore. Severus could only imagine what life was like in Malfoy Manor for a woman who served the sole purpose of looking good on her husband's arm and providing him with an heir. She'd come to hate him. She'd told Severus that when he had been visiting Lucius. Malfoy had been fetching something from under the drawing-room floor when Narcissa had confided in Severus for the sole reason that he was not a Malfoy and that she knew she could count on his silence.
She didn't ask for anything but his silence. She'd merely needed to talk to someone with no Malfoy blood in their veins or Malfoy money in their pockets. She merely had to say the words out loud for once in her life. She needed them to be spoken to someone. She hadn't even wanted a response because it would make nothing undone.
Then Lucius had returned, and Narcissa had once again applied that look on her face that said, "You're all inferior to me." It was a mask. And she wore it because of Lucius.
It seemed that everyone was wearing masks, pretending to be different from what they were, pretending to not feel, not see, not hear anything they didn't want anyone to know about. Everyone kept everything about them secret, their wishes, their dreams, their feelings. And for what? For fear, they'd be destroyed on account of one of them.
Lucius had a talent for destroying people's lives, in every respect. He'd married Narcissa. He'd recruited Severus (and many others). He'd educated his son in the matters of cruelty and sheer Malfoy-ness—which could be regarded as one and the same.
And here was Draco, bowing before the Dark Lord, kissing the hem of his robes and pledging everlasting loyalty—just like Severus had done it once.
"What is thy bidding, my master?" Draco said. His father had obviously taught him what to say, how to address Voldemort. The ritual had been the same when Severus had been initiated such a long time ago…
"Rise, Draco, and reveal your forearm," he Dark Lord demanded.
The boy obeyed. He presented his left forearm to the Dark Lord, ready to receive the mark. And for the first time, Severus saw a faint trembling in Draco's hands.
The Dark Lord brandished his wand, took hold of the boy's arm—Severus could almost see his own initiation replaying before his inner eye—rested the tip of his wand against the boy's skin and hissed, "Morsmordre."
A greenish glow enveloped the boy's arm, as he sunk to his knees, his lips pressed together tightly so as not to cry out when the Dark Mark burnt itself deep into his raw flesh.
There weren't many who had undergone this procedure in silence.
Lucius hated nothing more than to be embarrassed. He must have taught his son self-discipline. Severus refused to let his mind picture the means that man must have used to make his own son so numb to such pain—and that when Severus had suffered some of what he refused to imagine now himself…
Apprentices had writhed on the floor, screaming in agony, but Draco didn't make a single sound.
~*~*~
Harry watched Draco Malfoy receiving the Dark Mark.
The glow stopped and Malfoy took a deep breath, only a bit of sweat on his forehead betraying the effort it had taken him not to cry out at the pain that must have been shooting up his arm.
Harry shuddered involuntarily. It was strange, this being able to see such things in his dreams. When he woke up he'd most certainly have forgotten most of it already…
"Rise, my servant," Voldemort hissed, his red eyes glinting madly, "and look at the sign that makes you mine forever."
Malfoy did so. The skull and the snake protruding from its mouth. It was livid, raw and ghastly. That anyone could actually want to bear that mark was beyond Harry, but so was joining the Dark Lord.
"Draco," the Dark Lord continued, "will you ever betray me? Will you ever deny that you're mine?"
"No, master, I will not."
"So as to demonstrate what would happen if you ever did… Crucio!"
The curse hit Draco full in the chest and its force made him fall over, so he was writhing on the floor. Voldemort ended the torture quickly, and Draco lay there, panting, for a moment, before he got up, his legs not quite as reliable as usual, and said an unsteady, "Thank you, master."
"Never disappoint me, Draco."
"I will never disappoint you, my Lord," Draco said.
"Then you shall stand by my side when victory will be ours. Soon. You will not be present at many meetings, my young apprentice, as you're still at Hogwarts. But that will chance. When you're ready to leave there, it will be ours already."
"Yes, master."
"Listen to your father's advice. You do want to be as able a hand to me as he is now, do you?"
"Yes, master."
"Good. You will receive your instructions via your father. I trust the mark will not be too much of a burden to you?"
"No, master. It is an honour to bear your symbol."
"Wisely spoken. You've taught him well, Lucius."
"I thank you, my Lord."
"Very well. That will be all. You're dismissed—except for my Inner Circle." Most of the Death Eaters bowed and Disapparated at once. A handful of them left through a doorway Harry hadn't even noticed before.
"Wait outside," said Lucius Malfoy to Draco who bowed and left obediently.
The few remaining Death Eaters lowered their hoods as they stepped closer as Voldemort continued, "The time is near for us to strike. In the new year, we'll either obtain one of our strongest assets or get rid of a dangerous enemy. It will not be my choice. It will be the girl's choice. However, there are some obstacles. First, she hardly ever leaves Hogwarts grounds. Second, if she does, she's among too many witches and wizards loyal to Dumbledore. Third, she is as good as invincible, so she must be trapped. I shall ponder that matter and appoint a pair of you at a time I see fit. She'll join us—or…"
Harry woke up gasping for air. The scar was throbbing. Voldemort. He had been dreaming about the Death Eaters and Voldemort… What had it been about? Draco Malfoy… Yes, Harry remembered it now. And Snape had been there, too…
Voldemort was up to something. And it had something to do with Hogwarts and with a girl and a choice…
Harry let himself fall back into the pillows and stared up into the darkness, waiting for the scar to stop hurting, waiting to fall back asleep…
Ginny stirred. "Somethin' wrong?" she slurred sleepily.
"'S just a dream, Gin," Harry whispered. "Woke me up."
"One of the real ones about You Know Who?"
"Yes." Harry instinctively drew her closer. Somehow, he needed her to be close now; he needed her to make certain that there was more to the world than the Dark Lord's shadow. Harry needed the little sun that was Ginny to warm away the Dark Lord's cold laughter.
"What was it about?"
"Malfoy is a Death Eater now. Draco Malfoy."
"Then we'll have a Death Eater at Hogwarts?"
"I fear we have more than one of them here. I at least am going to watch my back around any Slytherins. Just in case."
"Oh, dear," Ginny whispered. "But they can't do anything in here, can they? Dumbledore won't let them, right?"
"I love you, Gin," Harry said, surprised how thick his voice sounded.
"I know," she whispered as she nestled into his embrace, "and I love you."
~*~*~
Term had started again and Sariss was once again showered in essays she was supposed to read and grade. She had come to dread any essays that bore Hermione Granger's name on them, since they tended to be long, difficult and far beyond what a seventeen-year-old should be capable of. But the worst was that it was about four times as long as her classmates'—and that when her letters only had half the size.
Sariss actually pondered giving her an eleven out of ten for the essay about wandless magic she'd had the students write over the Christmas holidays.
If she did that in every subject… Well, it would explain Snape's obnoxiousness on some days, since the girl might indeed write something he'd actually have to look up and—as Sariss had experienced herself already—he didn't like to be corrected in any way.
Sariss chuckled and scribbled a 'Well done, Miss Granger. Full marks—although half of what you wrote would have justified that' on the parchment and then took the next one from a considerably smaller-than-it-had-been-when-she'd-started-grading stack of parchments.
That one had just the right length. Draco Malfoy's. Sariss wondered if the boy would manage to use exactly three hundred words in an essay if she asked one of that length from him. Malfoys were good at being accurate; as good as they were at being insufferable.
Sariss read the parchment and found exactly what she had been explaining during her lessons. If this boy were to follow in his father's footsteps, he'd make a good, obedient, Death Eater one day—if he wasn't already. If anything, Sariss had learnt that Death Eaters in particular managed to cloak their emotions if they had any left, that is. The boy was as of yet not so good at doing that. On the contrary. Sariss sensed him all too clearly—and that when nineteen other students were in the room!
However, she reminded herself to be unbiased. She had to be blind to the name that was written down at the top of the parchment. Even if it was Malfoy.
Sariss was almost finished with it, when she noticed that the boy had added a paragraph that didn't belong. It consisted of merely three words.
'I know it.'
Sariss furrowed her brows for a moment and then muttered, "Well, that's good for you, boy, though it would better if you'd explained what exactly you think you know," before she crossed it out and wrote a seven out of ten down on the parchment, explaining that he needed to do a bit of thinking on his part to receive full marks. Only repeating what he was being told wouldn't take him far in life.
She dismissed the three words with a smirk and set to work on the next roll of parchment.
Apparently, it was one of her better days that day. She had been feeling surprisingly light and cheerful—at least to her recent standards. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the nightmare she kept having again hadn't come back all too distinctly for almost a week. She felt more stable when it was absent without leave. But she knew she had been dreaming something. It was inevitable to start dreaming as soon as the Potion wore off. It must have been something nice for a chance. Sariss couldn't remember ever having a dream that hadn't had her wake up screaming.
On the other hand, it might also have something to do with the fact that Snape hadn't bothered her beyond what was acceptable recently.
He hadn't mentioned the 'incident'. Not even in passing. Neither had Dumbledore. When she'd excused herself, explaining that she would be visiting 'the place' again, the headmaster had merely nodded and told her to take care. Snape could apparently keep a secret longer than for mere days.
Well, he should. A remnant of his Death Eater days, huh?
I wonder what would have happened if I had thrown that in his face.
I think he would have strangled you.
Yes, so do I… Let's get back to work, shall we?
I have no choice in that matter, anyway.
~*~*~
Sariss found herself walk through the halls of Hogwarts. She had no idea where she was heading, didn't know her destination. This was not the Hogwarts she knew. It was strangely empty. There was not the slightest trace of a living being—or a dead one for that matter either. Not even Peeves the Poltergeist could be heard throwing something or singing a rude song. The only sounds that Sariss heard were her own breathing, the rustle of her robes, and the soft clicking noise of her heels. The sound of her steps seemed unnaturally loud to her, as it was so very silent.
It was like a graveyard. The fact that it seemed so much gloomier than usual didn't help. Sariss felt herself go frightened. Why was it so dark? It wasn't night. Through the windows, she could see the light of day, but it didn't penetrate the windowpanes to fill the halls with gentle and warm winter sunlight. Why? Not even the considerable amount of torches that were lining the walls and flickering merrily could lighten the corridors… Why were the torches burning by day? And why were they so useless?
And Sariss walked on and on, looking for something familiar, something that would explain why everything was so different… Dumbledore's office. She should try her luck there, shouldn't she? Yes, a good idea. If she found Dumbledore, it would be fine. He'd have an explanation…
His office should be up the staircase and then along the corridor. She'd see the gargoyle as soon as she'd turn the corner…
It wasn't there. Sariss suddenly found herself in a completely different part of the castle than she had been seconds ago. Panicking slightly, she turned around, only to see that the world behind her had also changed. The picture she had passed when she had walked along the corridor was gone. Instead, there was a tapestry that actually belonged up in the fifth floor…
Sariss began to run, changing direction at random. If she couldn't find Dumbledore's office by following the map of Hogwarts that was inside her head, she'd surely stumble upon the gargoyle by accident.
Faster and faster, her steps became, as she skittered around turns and corners. If she ran fast enough, she might just reach her destination before it could change its location again…
The sound of Sariss's ragged breathing seemed to echo off the walls as she opened another door that led her into another series of corridors instead of the room that was supposed to be there.
Another door, another corridor or room that didn't belong there. Sariss wanted to scream but she was afraid to make an unnecessary noise, since it was so silent. Every door that fell shut behind her made her jump, whether it was the first or the twenty-first time that happened…
She felt herself go desperate. She merely wanted to wake up from this nightmare. If only it were a nightmare. She'd wake up screaming and sweating, yes, but she'd find herself safely in her bed.
She must go on. Someone must be there. Anyone! Please!
Sariss opened the next best door and found herself in the Great Hall. Empty, gloomy and silent. No surprises there.
The large doors opened on their own and led her into the Entrance Hall.
She almost cried with relief that something was right at last.
Should she try to leave the castle? Where would she go? Hagrid's? Yes. If she couldn't reach Dumbledore, she'd try to reach Hagrid's.
Sariss approached the huge front doors of Hogwarts castle. As she moved to open them, she realized that they didn't give an inch. She pulled with all she was worth, put all her strength and her not quite as considerable weight into it. It didn't budge. She refused to give up so easily. She pushed and pulled. There was no way to overcome it. Even magic didn't work. She was so desperate by now that the powers should be getting out of hand any second. But there wasn't the slightest indication that that would be the case in the near future. She slammed her fist into the wood. It was supposed to splinter. But it didn't. It was harder than steel. Sariss felt sharp pain rush up her arm. She cried out in pain and fell to the floor cradling her aching hand. It must be broken. There was no other explanation…
Sariss opened her eyes and found herself stand at the top of the marble staircase, looking down into the Entrance Hall, facing the front doors…
She was a bit confused. She couldn't remember how she had gotten to where she was… Hadn't she been somewhere else a moment ago?
Yes. She'd wanted to look for Dumbledore. She couldn't find the way. She'd wanted to go down to Hagrid's hut, but couldn't open the doors…
She checked her hands, both of them, just to be sure. Wasn't she supposed to be hurt?
Strange. She must have been daydreaming…
Cautiously, Sariss walked down the staircase, fearing that her surroundings would change any second, leaving her in a place in Hogwarts she was not familiar with…
Well, there was another option but Dumbledore and Hagrid.
Snape.
His office was closest. The dungeons couldn't be much darker than the parts of the castle she'd already been in, could they?
The stairs that were usually leading down to the dungeons did indeed do that.
Yes! The confusion seemed to be at an end. Finally. She'd find Snape, tell him that something was definitely not right in here and then…
Sariss raced around another corner and found herself face to face with Snape. He slowly walked in her direction. He was hardly ten yards away.
"Professor!" she shouted. Her voice resounded deafeningly off the walls. She didn't even care since relief washed over her like gentle summer rain. Never would she have thought that one day she'd be so happy to see him. "Professor, I'm so glad to see you." She came to a halt in front of him. He, too, had stopped walking.
"Listen, something's very very wrong in here. There's no one here. No students. No other teachers. Even the ghosts are gone. And Hogwarts has become a terrible, ever-changing maze. What's going on here?" Sariss almost cried with the relief that she could finally tell someone. How many hours had she spent running around the castle? All of a sudden, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and cry. The fact that it was Severus Snape wasn't important anymore. He was the only person in this castle except herself.
He looked at her in a very strange way. A look like that seemed not to belong in his face. Or perhaps it was only the absence of a sneer or a smirk that gave his face that unusual expression. He could be such a handsome man if only he weren't leering and glowering and scowling all the time…
But why didn't he speak?
Sariss felt herself go scared again. What if her jumbled and strained mind only imagined his presence? What if she'd already gone mad and was imagining things? What if he'd go up in a wisp of smoke and she'd be alone again? All alone in this huge castle she'd always thought she knew so well, the castle that seemed to purposely frighten her, wanted to drive her mad?
"Professor?" she asked in a small voice. She sounded as scared as she was. "Professor Snape… Are you… really here?" she chanced and reached out, but dared not touch him lest her hand would pass through him, thus proving that she'd finally lost her mind.
It must be quite audible to him that she was close to tears. Sariss didn't even feel ashamed. She didn't care if she behaved like a hysterical girl. She needed him now. There was no one else she could turn to, no one else she could ask for help. She needed to be in a place with a lot of people. He could take her to such a place. He'd help her get out of the castle. He'd help her get out of this mess…
"Professor…" she repeated. "Help me, please." Her eyes flowed over. "Please, oh please, help me…" She buried her face in her hands and sobbed softly.
She looked up, startled, when she felt the touch of his hands on her wrist and he pulled her hands away from her face.
"You're real. You're actually there."
He nodded and gave something that could have been interpreted as a small smile. But then the look in his face became serious again.
"Professor? Could you… let go of me again? This is rather uncomfortable," she said, as he still held her wrists.
He did as requested.
"Thank—."
Sariss couldn't finish her sentence since she suddenly found his hands cupping her face, his mouth covering hers, taking her breath away as he kissed her in a most indecent way.
She felt her eyelids droop; her body seemed to float as he let his hands wander over her breasts and lower. Her knees felt like jelly; she was almost glad when she felt the wall in her back, when she felt herself kept upright by his body against hers…
Everything was swirling around her. She was dizzy. The only constant among the variables that the world had become was he and his mouth and his hands that were travelling over her, snaking their way boldly under the material of her robe, touching bare skin wherever they went. And all the time, he kept kissing her…
Or wasn't it vice versa? Sariss suddenly realized that it wasn't only he who was kissing her. No, she was kissing him, too. She must have been returning the kiss for quite some time by now. She also noticed that she had her arms around his neck, her fingers entangled in his hair or stroking his neck.
"Professor—," she managed to mumble in-between kisses.
"My name is Severus," he answered and resumed where she had interrupted him…
Everything that had happened earlier was forgotten. She didn't want to go anywhere anymore. Who cared if there was no one else but the two of them? As long as he kept doing what he was doing…
Sariss felt herself be lifted up against him. Only the tips of her toes touched the ground. She couldn't help but snake her leg around his hip. If she did that merely for support or for reasons that had to do with the fact that her whole body seemed to be alive with the touch of him wasn't important. She refused to ponder what she was doing. If she began to think about it, she'd only come to the conclusion that it was madness what she was doing here, that everything had been madness from the very beginning. But she didn't think about it.
His soft and warm hand slithered over her knee and up her bare thigh, leaving a trail of flushed skin in its wake, as his mouth closed over the skin on her shoulder, sucking and travelling over her collarbone and up towards her mouth again.
By Merlin, her whole body seemed to be pulsating with something that her mind couldn't name. It was sensual overkill such as she'd never felt before. She only knew that it scared her. And that she liked it.
She liked the way his body against hers felt like, she liked the feel and taste of his lips, she liked the touch of his hands. She even liked the way he all but crushed her against the wall—.
All of a sudden, Sariss felt herself tumble to the ground. She felt cold…
He was gone…
The ground gave way almost instantly and Sariss felt herself fall into the abyss, into darkness… She screamed. But she didn't scream for help. She merely called his name…
"Severus!"
She opened her eyes…
Her breath caught in her throat when she grew aware that she wasn't falling anymore. That she was lying in her bed. That it was early morning. That she wasn't wearing the robes she had been wearing when Snape had…
No. She was wearing her nightgown… It must have been a dream.
"Disturbing," she muttered and rolled over to get another hour or two of sleep.
But what a strange dream it had been. Yes, she called it a dream, even though it had started as a nightmare.
Sariss had to laugh at herself. The mere thought that… But wait. Was it that ridiculous a thought? Well, her sleeping mind must have remembered the mistletoe-induced kiss and then spun it into something that could be called an erotic fantasy…
Strange how clearly she remembered that dream. Even her body seemed to remember it. In fact, it felt as if the dream had been real.
Never in her life had Sariss been so puzzled. What was it with that man? And why did such strange tingling sensations rush through her when she touched him? And it was only him. That had never happened before.
Not even with Rick. No. They'd decided they'd rather be friends than share another kiss. To Sariss it had felt as if she were kissing her non-existent brother. Rick, too, had grinned sheepishly and admitted that he felt similar about her. From that day on, they'd been like brother and sister. She'd been fourteen years old. It had been her first kiss…
And, under the mistletoe, Snape had stolen her second one…
Oh, dear. If that dream kept coming like her usual dreams were used to repeating themselves, she'd grow accustomed to the thought that Snape…
No way!
This was ridiculous. Honestly.
Admit it already. You only decided to take another nap now because you hope that the dream comes back—or even better, that it resumes where he left off…
Sariss snuggled into the pillows.
I prefer that dream to my usual ones, thank you very much…
When she woke up again she wasn't sure if she had had another dream or not. But did it matter? The first one was burnt into her memory as if it had really happened.
Time would tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
~*~*~
Two weeks after the students' return to Hogwarts a Quidditch game was scheduled to take place. It was Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, and Harry had made the team practise hard during that fortnight no matter if the snow had been falling lightly or so hard that the Quaffle had been hardly visible. It had led to Ron jokingly calling Harry 'Oliver' when he had gotten too deep into his 'Captain-mode'.
Be that as it may, it was a clear Saturday afternoon, the ground was frozen, making a lovely surface for a fast take-off—and the Hufflepuffs were waiting to be flattened.
To make everything perfect, Sirius had answered to Harry's letter, in which he'd asked him to come to the game, and said he'd have a day off that very Saturday.
And so it was that, as soon as Harry and the team had had their breakfast, they went down to the Quidditch pitch. On their way there, they ran straight into a huge black dog that transformed immediately into Harry's godfather.
"Sirius! It's so good to see you," Harry managed to say before Sirius crushed him in another bear hug and ruffled his hair.
Ginny giggled. And the rest of the team didn't fare much better.
"You're suffocating the Seeker, Mr Black," she said.
"Yeah, if you don't mind, could you delay that until after the game?" Ron sniggered, as Harry extricated himself from Sirius' hug and tried to reasonably flatten his hair.
"Sirius!"
He only smirked. "Sorry, couldn't resist. Besides, when I was forced to be Snuffles over longer periods of time none of you could resist ruffling my hair, if I remember correctly."
"Point taken."
"I thought you liked it," Ginny said, blushing quite furiously as if it had occurred to her that very moment that Snuffles, although looking like an oversized dog, was actually a human man.
"Who wouldn't?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows for a moment, and Ginny blushed even more.
"Ahem. Sirius, you get yourself a girlfriend your age. This girl is mine," Harry said, snatching Ginny around the waist.
"And what a pity it is, isn't it, Miss Weasley?" Sirius winked at Harry.
Harry wouldn't have believed that Ginny could go that crimson if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, but she was clearly fighting back laughter just like everyone else, including Harry.
"I think we'd better hurry," said Hermione, nervously glancing at her watch.
"Yeah, sure," said Harry. "Come on, let's go. Oh, and Hermione? Don't ruffle 'Snuffles' too much, even though he's Sirius now."
"Especially when he's Sirius," Ron corrected, mock-jealously glowering at both Sirius and Hermione.
"I'll try to restrain myself. After all, he's no Lockhart," Hermione said dryly, while Sirius chuckled.
"I don't think they'd let me join the victory party afterwards if I robbed the cradle," he said to Hermione.
"Cradle?" she repeated indignantly.
"I wonder what this mysterious Elizabeth would say to that," Harry said pointedly.
"I'm a complete saint," said Sirius—but didn't look it in the slightest.
Fifteen minutes later, after a very short pep-talk à la Wood courtesy of Harry's, the team found themselves down at the pitch, ready to win their first game.
"And here's the Hufflepuff team! Captain Moon in front, followed by his fellow Chasers Branstone and Whitby, the fabulous Beaters Madley and Derek, Keeper O'Leary and second-year William Snatch," Owen Cauldwell screamed himself hoarse as he praised the Hufflepuff team (but wasn't too unkind to the Gryffindors either), "who hopefully won't let his admiration for Gryffindor Captain and Seeker Harry Potter overcome his resolve to catch the Snitch himself."
Harry had the grace to throw an unnerved glance in the random direction of where Cauldwell's voice was coming from, announcing the Gryffindors.
"—and thus they have two Weasleys on the team now, as well as two Creeveys—nothing new there—MacDonald and Brandon make the team complete."
"Gin, listen up… Erm… Here." Ron handed Harry's old Firebolt to Ginny. "You're the Chaser. You've got to be faster than I. I've always done well enough on your broomstick."
A smile blossomed all over Ginny's face as she exchanged broomsticks with her brother. "Thanks, Ron. You don't mind, Harry, do you?"
"Not at all. It's only Hufflepuff, but we're going to flatten them."
"Ready? On my whistle," said Madam Hooch and blew said whistle loudly as she threw the Quaffle high up in the air, where it was immediately caught by Ginny who was off towards the Hufflepuff hoops within the blink of an eye. On Harry's old Firebolt, she wasn't much more than a fiery-haired blur swishing across the pitch.
The Hufflepuff Chasers were not really a match for Ginny, Nat and Jamie. After what could hardly have been more than twenty minutes, Gryffindor was eighty points in the lead. However, as of yet, there had not been a glimpse of the Snitch…
~*~*~
Sariss had decided to watch the game even though Slytherin wasn't playing. It would be fun anyway. A nice distraction from the visit she'd paid to Rick and Rory earlier this morning. It seemed she simply couldn't overcome the thought that she should have protected them. A severe case of survivor's guilt—and that when Sariss hadn't even been there.
She'd been standing at the cliff again, afterwards, thinking that she'd merely have to jump to end it all… But that would be cowardly. On the other hand, it seemed Sariss didn't have the guts to end it herself either. So she wouldn't. After all, in addition of not wanting to be a coward to the world, there was still Dumbledore. And there was Hagrid, too. And for some reason, Sariss's subconscious desperately wanted to add Snape to that list of people… So, hypothetically, she had three, respectively four, reasons not to end it—no, it were four, respectively five. She'd temporarily forgotten the fourth, respectively fifth, one, the one that kept her going. It needed to be thought of solitarily.
Revenge.
It was not good for her state of mind to have any of those thoughts. Why wasn't the game beginning already?
Sariss waited while the stands filled slowly with excited students. She started feeling better.
It must have been merely a minute before the game would start when there was a little commotion and the Slytherin House team took their seats in the front row. They'd be watching Gryffindor play to plan their strategies against them as soon as that match would be on. It would be a while.
And then the person Sariss still wasn't too sure what to make of swept along the stands like an oversized bat and came right towards her.
Oh, dear, don't think about the dream. Just don't think about it!
Oh, yes, don't think about 'My name is Severus'. Don't think about his hands on your skin, his body against yours, his—
It was only a dream!
Not merely a dream. Several ones.
It were merely several dreams then. Dreams!
But the kiss under the mistletoe wasn't a dream.
That was only that cursed mistletoe!
Was it now?
Oh, shut up already.
"Here to watch the game?" Snape asked.
Isn't that obvious?
"Yes, indeed." How could you tell, Snape?
"May I join you?" he asked, just as Madam Hooch began the game.
"There's no law that would forbid it," Sariss replied, at the same time wishing for the dream she had to come true and wishing to be somewhere else but so close to him—which was strange, considering that they'd already watched a match together. But be that as it may, Snape's presence made her highly nervous.
Cursed mistletoe. Oh, gods, I think I might even enjoy it if it were to happen again…
"I didn't actually ask if there was a law. I rather wanted to know if you would allow it."
"Certainly." I don't know! For heaven's sake, just be a git, so I can jump to my feet and make a dramatic exit!
"Thank you," he said, sat down next to her and lapsed into silence. The Gryffindors meanwhile scored and scored. The fiery-haired Weasley girl had just sneaked the Quaffle past the Hufflepuff Keeper again, making the score ninety to ten for Gryffindor.
The Snitch was nowhere to be seen. As the clouds had shifted to reveal the sun, it would not be easy to see it anyway, since every watch and every pair of glasses or piece of jewellery glittered and blinked. Quite a distraction for the Seekers' eyes.
Sariss got up after a while and walked towards the balustrade to get a better look for the Golden Snitch. It must be somewhere. Where was it hiding?
Down on the pitch, Harry Potter had just dived and lured the little Hufflepuff Seeker into a steep dive towards the grounds. A fairly obvious Wronski Feint—well, if you weren't trying to win an almost lost game. The little boy hardly managed to stay on his broom as soon as he'd realized that he would have to stop diving if he didn't want to wake up in the infirmary a week or so later. Potter was meanwhile soaring back up, circling and scanning the pitch for the Snitch.
The score was by now one-hundred-and-seventy to twenty and the commentator, a Hufflepuff by the name of Cauldwell, didn't sound remotely as enthusiastic anymore as he had been at the beginning of the game—although Hufflepuff had just scored their third goal owing to the fact that family ties were stronger than the necessity to guard three hoops.
~*~*~
"Ginny! Watch that Bludger!" Ron shouted and dived away from the hoops only to be slammed into by a Bludger that had originally been aimed at Ginny.
"Ouch!" he moaned and rubbed his aching side.
Ginny looked rather exasperated. "I don't need a babysitter, Ron. I could have avoided it easily—Oh no!"
"HUFFLEPUFF SCORES!"
"You go and guard the hoops. I can take care of myself very well," she said and swerved off in direction of the Quaffle.
Ron cursed so badly; Mrs Weasley would have been scandalized. He also cursed loud enough for Harry to hear it, despite the fact that he had just flown off towards where he'd seen something golden—.
The Snitch! It was really the Snitch!
Unfortunately, Harry wasn't the only one who had seen it. He went into a dive immediately. It seemed so far away and Snatch seemed to be so much closer to it. In addition to that, the other boy was really small and much lighter than Harry. If he were flying another Firebolt II, it would have been much more obvious that he had that advantage.
The winged ball fluttered nervously up and down and from left to right as if it knew that it had been spotted.
Harry urged his broomstick on and on. Faster! Faster! he kept thinking. I've got to get to it. We cannot lose against Hufflepuff!
Everything around him was just a blur, players, watchers, the stands; the Bludgers rushed past him in a flurry of colours as he increased speed and then, finally, felt the winged Snitch flutter against his palm.
The opponent's Seeker's hand closed on Harry's hand which held the struggling ball firmly and securely.
"Gryffindor win," said Cauldwell, sounding a bit subdued. "But hey, Will, you almost had it! Applause for William Snatch!"
"He's right," said Harry, as the two Seekers landed in the middle of the snow-covered pitch, "you almost had it. Hufflepuff might be in for the cup next year if you keep up the good work."
The little boy's face went deeply crimson as he smiled nervously, whispered a breathless "Thanks" and sped off towards the rest of his team. Meanwhile, the pitch was being invaded by cheering Gryffindors, Sirius among them, no doubt up to something like ruffling Harry's hair again. Actually, it wasn't that Harry really minded his hair being messed up; it was just that he preferred Ginny doing it…
~*~*~
"There's no law that would forbid it," Sariss answered when Severus had asked if he might join her in watching the game.
"I didn't actually ask if there was a law. I rather wanted to know if you would allow it."
"Certainly." She sounded a bit forced. Why was that?
Has my memory so deteriorated? I can't seem to remember that we had a row or something…
It hasn't. No row.
Well, then I guess it's just one of those days, huh?
Severus sat down anyway. She said nothing. Her mind seemed to be with the game, as, after a while, she got up and leaned over the balustrade again, straining to get a better look despite the fact that her view must have been constantly blocked by students having the same idea.
The sun was coming out and Severus's gaze was caught by her rippling hair. This time—unlike during the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin game where it had been drenched with rainwater—it shimmered beautifully. It came alive in the sunlight, sparkling in all shades of brownish red; some strands seemed like fire woven into her hair.
Severus could see her profile clearly. Like a doll. Those large eyes that he'd seen blazing with anger and red and bright with tears already… The small, faintly pointed nose, the luscious lips he had already brushed with his, their reddish pink colour sharply contrasting with her pallor…
Every passing day, he more wanted to repeat that action than anything else he could think of. He wanted that sweet softness that was her mouth. Every passing hour, his longing for the gentle, almost timid, touch of her lips on his cheek seemed to increase.
What he wouldn't give to relive that moment again…
It seemed to be madness that, every time he laid eyes upon her, he wanted her so much to come closer again…
No matter how much he tried to fight it, it seemed that he couldn't fight this feeling anymore. Did he even want to fight it any longer?
Next chapter:
Sariss loses control, runs to Dumbledore and speaks of the past—a lot.