Author's note: Big thanks go to Miriam, Blaise, Madi, aratarvarda and CassieXanthe. If I forgot somebody, just drop me a note. The last week's been mayhem—not that I'd complain.
Chapter 24: She is My Sin
Bless me, undress me
Pick your prey in a wicked way
God I must confess...
...I do envy the sinners
—Nightwish: She is my Sin
Sariss had fallen asleep again. Severus could tell from her even breathing and the way she snuggled into him; she seemed to do this on instinct, looking for warmth even when she was asleep. He closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feel of her against him. Shouldn't he sleep too? He should feel exhausted, shouldn't he? Indeed, he should. After a night like that, it would have been only natural. But he was far too busy bathing in the afterglow to be able to sleep. He wanted to consciously feel her against him, rest his hand on her hip and gently run his other hand over her back or stroke her cheek or play with her hair or draw little invisible patterns on her arm… A part of his mind still thought that it must have been one of those pleasant dreams he'd had before the Dark Lord had shattered them.
A thought struck him then, quite suddenly. All the time, she had completely ignored the Dark Mark that was as livid as never before on his forearm. She had not wasted a single glance at it, not even when her hand had strayed over it, a movement that had made Severus wince slightly. She had ignored it. Perhaps this had been because she knew he had it, she knew what it looked like—she must have seen Dark Marks on Death Eaters before; after all she had been an Auror—yet it was a strange feeling for him. He wasn't used to being judged by what he was now, he was kind of used to being judged by what he had been—and he had been carefully watching over it that it stayed that way for a very long time…
This was a completely new feeling; being accepted like this, with his past—or at least a great part of it, the worst part…
And the Dark Mark was a ghastly reminder. She had dismissed it completely.
The sun was rising; the thunderstorm had rid the sky of its dark, grey clouds. It promised to become a perfect sapphire blue. The rays of light started to penetrate the windowpanes and the raindrops that were clinging to them, thus throwing dancing, glittering shadows on Sariss's hair, face and the bare skin of her arm that was draped over Severus's chest. Her hair looked like dark fire with all those different shades of brown and red and copper that were rendered visible by the sun. It looked so alive when it was hit by any kind of light. But it always looked different, depending on the light's source, depending on whether it was the light of the sun, the moon, fire, mere daylight… Severus marvelled at that. It was as though even her hair weren't sure of the mood it should be in, ever changing, never constant. It seemed to have a personality of its own, a personality similar to hers. And he adored both.
She stirred and made a small noise of contentment. Severus felt her twinkle—her eyelashes tickled him as she did so—and she groaned disapprovingly.
"Good morning," he said softly yet brightly.
"I don't know what could possibly be good on a morning," she mumbled and buried her face deeper in her hair, against his chest.
Obviously not a morning person.
"Should I take this statement personal?" Severus drawled. Apparently, she hadn't realized that she was not alone. She had already drifted back into sleep.
Definitely not a morning person.
Severus cleared his throat quite exaggeratedly.
Sariss jerked awake. "What?" she said, a tinge of annoyance in her voice, as she blinked her eyes open. To Severus she looked lovely as dishevelled and sleepy as she was.
Her eyes suddenly widened. "Severus!"
"I'm glad you remember my name. You had me worried for a while," he smirked.
She snorted, then grew serious. "We… er… well…" she stuttered.
"Yes, we… er… well…" he quoted her, highly amused at her choice of words—or rather the lack thereof. "Do you need to brush up on your memory of last night? I could help you there. I'd gladly help you there."
"Give me a few moments to recover from the shock of morning light, will you? I'm not a morning person," she murmured sleepily, against his chest again.
"That I already noticed." He felt her smile. It was a good sign that she hadn't turned away, hadn't jumped up, hadn't thrown him out or asked him to leave—yet. On the contrary. She was nestling into his embrace.
Part of him still feared that she would regret it, although she'd already said she wouldn't if he didn't. But that was the problem because to him it was that if she'd regret it, then he would, too. He found himself in somewhat of a stalemate situation.
"I don't want to get up," she said with a sigh of contentment. "Ever."
"Don't you think this is a fairly long time?"
"Not really." One of her favourite answers to his questions.
"You… you don't regret anything, do you?" he asked. If she said 'not really' now he'd—.
"Not…" (He held his breath.) "…at all," she said and lifted her head to plant a little kiss to the corner of his mouth. Then she drew the covers up and snuggled into him again, her lips brushing over his chest. Unfortunately, her lips along with the rest of her body were cool again. But despite of that, it felt so good to have her so very close. He knew he could set her on fire again, if he chose to. No, Severus found himself not regretting anything at all as he let himself doze off for a few moments.
"I'm sorry," Sariss suddenly spoke up.
His eyes snapped open. "Whatever for?" Severus asked, feeling a bit puzzled.
"For what I said when you tried to talk to me a few days ago. I shouldn't have said those things. You mustn't take everything I say seriously, you know? I shouldn't have said many things… I only said them to—."
"Why?"
"I thought it would make it easier… I thought I could just ignore it, forget about it…" she said in a very small voice.
"But it didn't work that way, did it?"
She didn't answer.
He rolled to the side, so he could turn to face her fully (she moved with him as if she knew what he intended) and noticed that she didn't avert her gaze, as she would have done only a short time ago. He was grateful for it and silently thanked whatever powers were responsible for this.
"You don't have to face all of this alone, you know?" Severus whispered, brushing his fingers over another one of her rebellious strands of hair—an action that made her smile. "I'll always be there when you need someone. I promise you that."
I'll take care of you. Forever, if you want me to. Not because you need someone, but because I want to.
"Thank you," Sariss said and hugged him tightly, pressing her lips to his throat. Severus realized it would take some time to get used to that sort of affectionate gestures, especially when they came from her. But then again, why get used to them at all? Why not cherish each one of them as though it were the first touch, the first kiss?
Gently pushing her back, he said with a smile, "Breakfast should be ready to be served any minute now. Care to join me?"
"I don't know if…" she trailed of, biting her lip and looking meaningfully up at him with her large, always questioning, eyes.
"Don't worry. There are not many people there. Above all, Draco Malfoy is not, no Slytherins at all. That's what you're worried about most, aren't you?" he asked, caressing her cheek with his thumb, which caused her to lean into his hand and put her hand on his to hold it against her face for a moment.
She took a deep breath and nodded. "He has been awfully quiet during the last week. Strange. I had expected him to gloat, to try and get me to lose it or something… I don't know what I expected him to do… Mostly, I was trying and ignoring him and all the others. I didn't want to see the way they look at me. I still don't. It… makes me feel… uncomfortable." That was one hell of an understatement. Uncomfortable? What a euphemism. Since when did uncomfortable mean 'feel like dying'?
"Shh," Severus said, kissing her forehead. He didn't want her to dissolve into tears again. "We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."
"But I have to." She gulped. "I have to talk about it. A little at a time. This time, the issue is Malfoy. He's dangerous, I'm telling you. And it has nothing to do with… what happened to me. I'd regard him as dangerous if everything else were fine."
"But it isn't."
"No, it isn't. His father must have told him, Death Eater that he is—and with him everyone else. The Daily Prophet wasn't exactly helpful either… And then the letters…" Her voice as well as her body shook dangerously as she said all this.
"Malfoy. Yes. He could prove to be more of a problem than we could ever have imagined. I've taken to watching my back with him around, too. I'd never have thought I'd say this one day, but as much as I tried to please his father by being especially lenient towards Draco, maintaining my Death Eater contacts by doing so quite well over the last years… the boy really had so much potential… if only his father hadn't had such a great influence on him… He was born a Death Eater, even before the Mark was burnt into his arm. When he could hardly walk, hardly pronounce his own name, his fate had already been decided by his father."
Our fathers shape us more than you could ever imagine. You grew up without him. Sometimes it's better not to have a father to shape you the way he wants you to be. He tried without you knowing that it was him. But he didn't completely succeed…
"There's no need to feel pity for him. It's our choices it comes down to in the end, not those of our fathers," she whispered bitterly. "We make our decisions on our own, may they prove right or wrong."
Our choices. Not those of our fathers…
"Well, right now the decision you have to make is choosing between staying here and discussing things that cannot be changed or gracing me with your long lost presence at breakfast. Believe it or not, it wasn't only me who missed you," Severus quickly changed the subject. It would do no good if the conversation turned into that direction now. For neither one of them.
"Alright," she sighed. "Let go of me, so I can get up, before I change my mind."
He did so, watching her slip out of the bed and grab her clothes; her hair concealing most of her body like a flowing, soft veil, but nonetheless—or even because… She drove thoughts of darkness and evil from his mind.
"Lovely," he said. She turned to look at him and wrinkled her nose, a slightly embarrassed smile on her face, but a playful twinkle in her eyes, as she clutched the heap of clothes.
"You're insatiable, Severus." She blushed, looking at the floor. "I give you my small finger and you grab hold of my whole hand instead."
"The way I remember it I had hold of much more than just your hand, as did you," he drawled, raising one eyebrow at her as soon as she looked at him.
She actually gasped and blushed at that, giving an incredulous laugh, then bit her lip and rolled her eyes before rushing out of the room, through the study, and into the bathroom to get dressed. "Lovely," he whispered once again and got up himself.
~*~*~
"Lovely," Sariss heard Severus mutter once more when she closed the bathroom door and leant against it for a moment, before she made herself ready for the day, still giggling softly like a schoolgirl at his naughty comment when she'd left the shower and had dressed.
He was absolutely right. They both had had hold of… well… roundabout every single part of each other's body. It seemed she could still feel him all over her, his tongue rubbing against her skin, his teeth grazing over it, his hands and lips touching and teasing and caressing her… The way he had stroked and kissed her breasts and stomach and thighs and—among others—this spot right above her left collarbone that he had paid so much attention to. It was as if there had been a sign that said 'Turn on here.'
Sariss chuckled at that thought, before a little shiver, induced by that very thought, passed over her.
Oh! The way his body had felt. Taut, yet soft. Strong, yet yielding. Muscular, but slender and sinewy. And so warm, seemingly giving off enough heat to set her completely on fire, making her forget any uncertainty—or bashfulness or whatever you might call it—that she had ever possessed. Perhaps one could call it shame. At a certain point, it had simply evaporated and vanished. Just like the fear.
There had only been he, hovering over her or lying beneath her, his hands behind, before, above, between, below, simply everywhere on her; and his eyes had always been looking at her as though she were a vision. She had been bathing in his gaze. His eyes had touched her like an additional pair of lips brushing, or hands roving, over her, sending little flames over her skin, searing her right down to the core of her very being, or so it seemed…
She'd never have thought it to be like this. The theory of it had, of course, been quite clear to her, although only in a distant and clinical sense. The facts of life had been explained to her like they were sooner or later to any child. She had read books whose content had included the inescapable love scene, seen Muggle movies with similar content—and didn't like very much what she saw there in most cases. It had struck her as practical and sometimes even vulgar and offensive. Carnal and raw. And short-lived. Thus, she had never really understood the almost fanatical preoccupation with the act of making love. Hopelessly overrated and overestimated, she'd always thought. She'd never quite grasped the extent of people's enthusiasm for it.
On the other hand, Sariss had always considered love as all-encompassing—and completely not destined for her. The same it had been with the physical act. Lovely illusions they had been, hadn't they? Until now.
However, as a consequence of all of this, she would never have dared to dream that the act of making love could involve so much kissing, so much violent tenderness, so much more than… well… the task at hand. But now it all made sense to her. Love was the ingredient that drove the negative projections away. It was indescribable, unexplainable. Sariss found she loved him. And she knew he loved her. He didn't have to say it. Sariss had felt it in every touch. After all, it was only words. She couldn't think that there could be another man who'd make her feel like that. So precious. As if she were actually a human being. It seemed that to him she was.
And, in sometimes not really coherent utterances, he had whispered to her how beautiful he found her, how sweet, how soft, how he loved the sound of her saying his name, the feel of her skin, the scent of her hair, everything about her. Somehow, she couldn't think of anything she had said to him in reply or at all…
But did he have any idea how much of a vision he was to her? In her eyes, he was beautiful. Simply magnificent. The first man who had touched her like that. The first man she'd ever touched like that. She could hardly believe it. Never had she actually imagined what he'd look like without his clothes on. It was funny. It had never occurred to her that, if he were to take her to bed, he'd be taking his clothes off. It had also not occurred to her that she wouldn't be wearing anything. Had the thought occurred to her, she would have been embarrassed. But the way it had been… There hadn't been the slightest hint of awkwardness. It had felt so right. His body.
By now, she knew it even better than he knew it himself. The memory alone made her want him again. She could still smell him. Musky and peppery, a deliciously bittersweet and heavy scent, lingering all over her. Almost like perfume. Almost drenched in the fragrance that was so very him. Incredibly arousing. And she could still taste him, too.
Oh my god! She was having those thoughts about Severus Snape! Severus Snape, Potions master, former teacher! And now they were not to be forced back any longer for the simple fact that they were no longer mere thoughts but memories. If Rory were still alive, they'd be talking about it surely and Rory would make fun of Sariss in a good-natured way… No, don't mourn lost friends any longer; think about found lovers. One particular lover to be exact; the only one to ever kiss her and touch her in that particular way he'd done it. Rory would have grinned and exclaimed, "You seduced a teacher!" and thrown her a mock-scandalised look. And Sariss would have replied, "Ex-teacher. And I didn't. It was all his fault!" But that would not have been completely the truth.
It was weird and wonderful to know that it had been real, all of it. Who would have thought that this could be the, on the outside, unpleasant, bad-tempered and sometimes downright obnoxious Potions master who had been making mad and tenderly violent love to her? Who was this man, this gentle but passionate lover who had elicited sounds from her she hadn't thought herself capable of, who had seemed to be losing himself in her as she was constantly losing herself in his emotions?
He hadn't felt like himself to her mind. What had emanated from him was so unlike the Severus Snape she had grown accustomed to that it was hardly imaginable. Something was different about him; something that had constantly been there was absent now, and although she couldn't tell exactly what it was, a part of her felt that it was gone and decided that it felt nice and, on a certain level perhaps, better than before.
Before. Before what? Before he'd learnt about what she was? That was a ridiculous thought. If he were to change because of that, he'd change for the worse. No, it must be something else. Something that had penetrated his defences and shattered everything that was necessary for him to pretend something. He couldn't pretend anymore; was that what it was? Was that the tiny bit that was gone now, the way he usually guarded everything, pretending that he was cold and unfeeling? He had been so good at pretending that. He had even fooled her; even her and that when she was pretending that too. And why? Because it made everything seem so damned easy, as though you could bear anything as long as you didn't show how much it really affected you.
Somehow, the way it was now, it made him seem more real, more human. And that he'd still wanted her after everything that had come crashing down, and the way he'd, the previous night, insisted that nothing of it mattered an iota… That had brought down even the strongest of the few defences she'd had left. The last ounce of strength she possessed had left her at some point. Her utter vulnerability had crashed down on her, even more than when—(Don't think about it!). She'd broken down again, that time completely. Not merely a bit, as she'd done every other hour during the last days. No, he'd made everything spill out of her. Words and tears. He'd held her when she'd broken down; he'd gathered her up. She hadn't even found enough strength to push him away. She hadn't even wanted to do that any longer.
And then, after a time that seemed like hours but couldn't possibly have been that long, he'd wanted to kiss her. He'd still wanted to kiss her! And that when he had known what that mouth of hers could do—according to the Dark Lord—when he knew exactly that she was monstrous and didn't belong in the circle of nature.
But he had made her feel more than human. The relief had swept through her in a way that left her no choice but to cry even more forcefully. She couldn't think of a time when she'd cried so unabashedly and unashamed of herself and others—not even when she'd sobbed into Dumbledore's beard had she cried like that. After all, he had been a stranger back then.
She must have fallen asleep at some point, since, when she'd awoken, she'd found herself lying in her bed unable to remember how she'd gotten there. And she'd been alone. She'd been glad when she'd heard him moving around in her study, glad that he hadn't left wordlessly, and had joined him.
They'd spoken quietly, as though it were sacrilege to speak any louder in an almost dark room, as if her study were sacrosanct.
Then they'd kissed, resumed where they'd left off, so to speak, as if nothing had happened—or perhaps that wasn't right. Maybe it had to happen to make them reach a state of mind where both of them could forgive and be forgiven. She'd wanted him so much. If it had been a result of her long, self-indulged separation from him or the need to have him confirm his mental and verbal affirmations in a physical way, she couldn't tell. Perhaps it had been neither. Perhaps it had been both. Perhaps they'd simply come full circle or something like that.
Be that as it may, the memory of his touch lingered. And she simply couldn't bring herself to really care why he still wanted her. How could she ever have thought she'd make it without him? How could she let herself become so dependent on him? On him? Had she thrown herself at him with an 'all is lost, help me find it'-attitude? No, that couldn't be—or could it? Fact was that the thought of losing herself in him was still terrifying—although she'd lost herself many times in him already, and then she'd only been able to find herself in him. She was torn. Maybe that was it. But she hadn't been torn when they'd made love. Countless times they'd made love, one time fading into the next, slowly and fast and gently and passionately. Their kisses had bordered on violence sometimes, desperate and hard as their mouths had crushed each other. Then they'd become gentle again, caressing and slow before growing more passionate again. It had been dizzying but in a delicious way, a sensory overload.
She could still feel him inside her body. She had no words for this. She was still quivering inside. Over and over, he'd taken her in the most intimate way; numerous times she'd given herself to him. Like dying had it felt, but at the same time it had been like being born. She had let herself fall into the abyss, and he had caught her just as he had promised. Time and time again. When she had fallen asleep—quite exhausted but closer to happiness than ever before, by the way—his arms safely around her, his heartbeat calming and lulling her, she had thought herself capable of flying—even when not in her Animagus form. She hadn't even feared her nightmares. Her overwhelmed mind had only provided one thought: He was there. He'd make them go away.
Had she expected it to be like this? She did not know. The only thing she knew for certain was that she ached for him to touch her again. No matter where, no matter how. A mere touch, a mere kiss…
She was tingling all over as if her thoughts had become countless pairs of hands and lips.
Sariss brushed her entangled hair. Fortunately, the brush was charmed so that it disentangled the strands and tresses without hurting. Yes, he had managed to dishevel and tousle her hair quite thoroughly, she thought with a smile. He loved her hair indeed but, unlike Sariss herself, apparently didn't think it the best part of her. That title seemed to belong to that spot on her throat—.
"Oops… Look at that!" Sariss said, looking at her reflection in the mirror—the mirror she'd stood in front of so often during the last days and had asked herself, "Is there even a soul in there?" Her reflection had stared back at her blankly. Now it didn't. Well, it stared but not blankly at all.
"Ooh! Now that's quite a bruise you have there!" Mirror-Sariss exclaimed, a look of astonishment and shock on her face. "Do you have a vampire under your bed, dear? This bruise looks suspiciously like a… a bite to me…" It all but screeched the word 'bite'.
So naïve… I was never like that, was I?
Well… Let's say you pretended to be naïve for quite some time. But maybe you were only shy—and a wimp.
That, I confess freely.
Feeling much better, are you? It was about high time.
Well, he has a way with words…
Words?
Yes! But also with his lips and hands and… I leave the rest to your naughtiest imaginations and fantasies.
Which is totally unnecessary. I was there all the time. Lovely love bite by the way.
I know.
"That might be because it is indeed a bite," Sariss told her reflection brightly. "A love bite, to be more specific."
"Quite visible. And it looks rather painful, too…"
"Now that I think about it… It's throbbing a bit. But as it's not the only spot on my body that's throbbing—," she said, enjoying the sensation that rushed through her, as she remembered one of Severus's more… well… daring explorations (and then blushing at the memory of one of hers).
Her reflection looked scandalized. "Sariss! You've been a very, very naughty, little girl!"
"Yeah, right," Sariss muttered sarcastically. "Little. And to hear that from myself… But you're right. I was definitely naughty. As naughty as never before," she drawled, throwing a wicked and meaningful glance at the mirror.
Her reflection's mouth was a perfect 'O'. Its eyes were round, too.
"And I can hardly wait to be naughty again…"
~*~*~
A few minutes later, she re-entered the room, dressed in her usual black robe. Severus had also dressed in the meantime.
"And I thought the sun had already risen before you came back in. I was wrong," he said taking her hand and bringing it to his lips, using the opportunity to draw her near. "You look gorgeous." She gave a shy smile. "Not as gorgeous as you looked a few minutes ago, but the memory will have to be enough for now."
"Who are you and what have you done to the real Severus Snape?" Sariss breathed, her face only inches from his.
"Sent him off. Didn't like him very much anyway," he murmured into her ear.
She giggled. "Well, then I'll have to keep my declarations of undying admiration and devotion to myself…" She sighed exaggeratedly. "Too bad," she muttered mock-thoughtfully, as though he weren't listening. "You know, I think I'll miss him a bit. I kind of liked him."
"You did?" he asked. He couldn't deny that it surprised him quite a bit.
"Very," she said huskily, "although he tends to be just a tiny little bit complicated and annoying sometimes—but also very insistent, I'll have to grant him that…"
Severus smirked.
"I think I actually liked him for quite some time—unconsciously and with some interruptions, however," she added with a wink. "Since the day he took me to Dumbledore's office and asked me if I was alright. When I was so scared of being expelled, I completely forgot to be afraid of him. And he seemed genuinely concerned."
"The day you… cracked the ceiling, I remember. When we found out you could speak Parseltongue," he said. "I was concerned. You wouldn't stop crying."
"Admit it, you found it terribly annoying."
He made a face. "Yes, I did. I don't do so well with emotional women."
"You do very well. But I was only a girl for heaven's sake."
"You were seventeen! You were definitely a woman."
"So you noticed that back then?" she drawled lazily, her hands travelling around his waist onto his back.
"I'm not blind. I noticed many things—and I definitely notice it now," he answered, matching her tone of voice. That made her smile again. "And your crying was totally unnecessary, too."
"I know that now. Back then I thought I had caused the ultimate catastrophe…" For emphasis, she rolled her eyes as she said 'ultimate'. "Be that as it may—from that day on I wasn't scared of you anymore."
"I hadn't realized you were scared of me. Have I ever given you a reason to be afraid of me?" he asked softly, before he could stop himself. All too clearly, he remembered the look on her features when she had thought he'd crush her broken and dying body. And then there was the way she had looked at him later, in the DADA corridor… 'You're hurting me.' He could still hear her say it. An iron fist clenched around his heart. Ever since the day he had Portkeyed her into the infirmary that fist had been there, supposedly as a constant reminder of everything that had happened… A constant reminder of his crimes—as if he needed reminding. He didn't. Least of all when it concerned her.
But she dismissed his slip of the tongue, apparently not connecting it to those horrible events. He was grateful. It was better that way.
"Not really…" she said. "I mean… you… I don't know. I was a very small child and you were the Potions master! Are you even aware of the presence you have? How you make the atmosphere in a room change only by entering? It's intimidating, overwhelming, even more so because I can sense the overall atmosphere in a room…" She had a variation of the amazed look on her face that he had seen earlier that day—or rather, night.
Overwhelming. She actually thinks my presence is overwhelming.
Overwhelming? You?
You heard her.
You should get your—and my—ears tested.
My ears are perfectly fine.
"Not to the extent you just described it—Are you still?" He couldn't deny that he was flattered.
"What?"
"Overwhelmed by my presence."
"More than ever," she smiled, throwing her hair back over her shoulders, once again biting her lip only for the fraction of a second, but he found it incredibly alluring.
"What's that?" he asked, having seen something on a certain spot on her throat the moment her hair had moved away. He tilted her head to the side. "Goodness, did I do that?"
"What is it?" she asked innocently, her upward glance and the tone of her voice betraying her.
"Don't play the innocent one. You're not fooling me," he growled in mock-outrage.
"Really, Severus…" she said, her voice low and husky as she uttered his name in the very way only she could. She knew exactly what he was talking about!
"No way," he interrupted her; then he added thoughtfully, "I had no idea I caused a bruise quite like that."
"Commonly something like that is called a 'love bite.' Another first for me," Sariss said, running a fingertip over it and wincing a bit as she did so. "And bite me you did."
"You seemed to like it," Severus said sheepishly.
"I did. Very. Do you have a confession to make? Are there one or two vampires in your ancestry?" She applied a pensive and suspicious look to her face. "From a very long time ago, perhaps?"
"The rumour goes that one of my great-grandfathers was a direct descendant of Vlad Tepes, also known as Dracula. Only a rumour, nothing more."
"Really?"
"But, strangely, my Animagus form is a bat. Don't ask me why."
"There might just be a tiny grain of truth in that rumour then." She looked mildly amused but also slightly intrigued by the whole idea.
"I don't think so. Can't seem to like seeing any blood. Doesn't turn me on, so to speak."
"But you like using your teeth, don't you?" She bit her lip in just the way he found irresistible.
"On you? Any time. Only on you."
"Hmm…" She smiled. "You must be a natural. Vampire ambitions or not."
"Can I take that as an explicit permission to do it again?" Severus asked, glancing at her, quite meaningfully.
"Permission granted. Gladly," she replied with a hungry look that must have been the exact replica of the one he had given her before. "Why did you bite me in the first place? You know, I'm curious."
"Because you taste so good. I couldn't resist," he said, pulling her head back to bestow a set of kisses on her throat and along her collarbone, his teeth grazing lightly over her skin.
A moan escaped her lips and she weakly pushed him away, swaying and gasping, "Keep this up and you can forget breakfast and lunch and—."
"Stupid idea to make you eat breakfast now that I think of it."
"You're not serious."
"But I could be."
"Yes, you could, but you're far too sensible to be serious now."
"Am I?"
"Sure you are. As well as I am myself. Imagine me losing all those curves you seem so awfully fond of…" she purred. As if for emphasis, she moved to press her body against his again, her hips making but a small barely noticeable movement that was, however, quite enough to cause Severus to suck in a sharp breath.
Wench.
Oh yes, she is.
"Now that you mention it…" He rested his hands on her hips to keep her from doing it again. He'd ravish her on the floor otherwise.
She probably wouldn't mind.
"So you see my point?"
"When you put it that way…"
"Don't give me that look. You'll have plenty of opportunities to renew the purplish spot on my throat—if you want to," she said, standing on tiptoes and brushing a little kiss over his lips. "And if I get really naughty I might present you with one, too—if you want me to."
"Revenge is sweet, isn't it?"
"In that case it certainly is…" she trailed off. "Although I'd have to carefully determine which spot on you it would be."
"I advise you to check twice. Only to make sure you get the right one."
"If you'd like that."
"I'm already looking forward to it."
"Um… Tell me something… Er…" She hesitated, squirming under his gaze. "Did you… Did you…"
"Did I what?"
"Like it? The way I… you know… Was I too… erm…"
He couldn't help chuckling as she said this.
"I knew you'd laugh at me," she said.
"I'm not. I was just wondering that it could possibly have escaped you how much I liked roundabout everything you did."
"You did?" she asked shyly. Her cheeks were getting pinker by the second.
"Yes. Did you?"
"If you can't tell… Are you sure it was you who was with me?"
"Fairly sure, I think."
"Then I don't think I have to tell you, do I?"
"Actually, I'd like to hear it," he growled into her ear. It made her shiver. "The detailed edition. The adult version."
She blushed a deep crimson. Such innocence! After such a night, how could you still be so innocent?
"I'd actually like you to," she began hesitantly, "to… do some of those… er… naughty things again."
"I guess that was a yes." He couldn't help grinning mischievously.
She, too, grinned, although a bit embarrassedly. Then she said teasingly, "However could you tell that was a yes?"
Severus applied a thoughtful expression to his face before he replied, "Just a wild stab in the dark." It made her giggle. "So… Are you finished? I just found out that I'm fairly hungry."
"Must we?"
"Yes. You said it yourself."
"Could you… Would you…"
"Yes?"
"Can I have another kiss before we go? There?" she indicated his love bite.
"Not trying to seduce me, are you?"
"Would you like that?"
"Who wouldn't like being seduced by you?" he said before he did as she'd requested.
"Mmm…" she said dreamily when he drew back. "Can I sign up for this? Can I have it regularly?"
Not so innocent after all, huh?
"Any time. You can wake me up at three in the morning and I won't even be mad at you."
"Good to know," she said and once more ran her finger over the mark Severus had left on her.
"Aren't you going to do something about it, cover it up, conceal it—," Severus began, indicating the bruise right above her collarbone that was quite visible when she had her hair pushed back behind her shoulders.
"I'm not going to hide the telltale signs of your misdeeds," she grinned as she pulled her hair up, twirled it a bit and then fastened it with a flick of her wand. (He had realized that she used her wand quite often although she had no need of it.) Her hair was now a work of artful and deliberate dark-brown disarray with all those loose tendrils brushing seductively over her skin, Severus observed. He could hardly wait to undo it again, bury his face in it, inhaling its scent, its softness… Everything about her was so soft, so very tender and pliant—if she wanted it to be that way.
This was going to be a very long day… But then again, there were no lessons…
~*~*~
Sariss fastened her hair. Then she turned back to Severus. "Alright then. I'm ready. Let's go before I lose my nerve. Oh, and stop looking at me as though I were a piece of cake with cream and chocolate icing. It makes me remember what I said and did and I'll be blushing furiously when we're at breakfast."
"Make me."
"You wish," she countered with a wink and opened the door. Throwing a glance over her shoulder she asked, "You coming or not?"
"No need to be so hasty all of a sudden…" he muttered, nonetheless following her, closing the door behind him and casting a Locking Spell. How thoughtful, Sariss noticed. Who would have thought any of this when looking at Severus Snape under different—more normal—circumstances? Strangely, to her, these were normal circumstances now.
Goodness, she felt so weird. Her mind was totally jumbled. All she could think of was in one way or the other connected with him. She suddenly wanted to head back into her rooms, her bedroom—with him—and repeat everything they'd done there. There had been no worries and no fears, no memories and no thoughts about the future. Only the moment had counted. And to know that she hadn't messed it up. To know that he'd liked what she'd done—and she'd been so nervous when it occurred to her that the possibility was there for him not to have liked some things as much as she had—and she had been drowning in his caresses. But the way it was… Well, it seemed that it just worked effortlessly between the two of them. It must be that certain spark people were always talking about. It simply was there. It must always have been there.
But instead of returning into Sariss's chambers, they headed along the corridors and down the stairs into the Entrance Hall, when she suddenly felt a twinge of panic—déjà-vu… It was as if she were back in the Hogwarts of more than ten years ago. She had so dreaded walking back in there after the Parseltongue discovery… "Severus." Sariss stood, grabbing hold of his sleeve. She seemed unable to breathe properly. "I… I don't think I can do this, after all…"
"There's nothing to fear, remember? No Malfoy gang, no Death Eaters, no Slytherins at all." It was as though he knew that the obvious reason wasn't the only one. "Most of the remaining students have no idea what really happened to you—unless the Death Eater offspring spilt the beans. But as far as I can tell, they haven't told the whole story. So there's no need to be scared now. They're only students. You're the powerful one in there, you know, the most powerful witch Hogwarts has seen since the time of the founders," Severus said, looking into her eyes with those glinting black eyes of his that kept reminding her of dark tunnels; those eyes that were still harbouring so many secrets in their depths…
"You said 'Most of the students.' Who does know?"
"Potter, for one. He had something like a firsthand experience of what happened."
"But—how?"
"Dreams. He tends to have dreams—or rather nightmares—when the Dark Lord is… up to something particularly vicious."
"Oh dear, poor boy," she muttered. So the boy was actually there… "Who else?"
"His friends. I would think he told them."
He must have seen the look on her face, since he quickly added, "But there's nothing to fear from them all, really. I may not be very fond of them but I couldn't accuse them of being tactless or insensitive when it comes to important matters."
"And you think I'm an important matter?"
He brought his fingers to her chin and tilted her head up, although this was not necessary at all—she already looked him in the eyes. "To me, there's nothing more important than you," he said, taking her hand.
What? Did he actually intend to walk in there openly showing that he and she… She was surprised. Pleasantly. She would never have expected this. He had always been hiding and now he wanted to just walk in there actually holding her hand? In front of the—if only few—students?
He must have noticed her puzzlement, for he gave her that smirking, amused look that had always made her smile and added mock-scowlingly, "What? If you can openly wear this 'corpus delicti of my affection', I might just as well nip all possible speculations in the bud. Why encourage a rumour when the truth will shock them quite sufficiently?"
Sariss stared. Somehow, now that they both knew—or at least were aware of—the greater part of each other's secrets and past, it seemed that even things that had nothing to do with both of those were being discussed more easily. It would be foolish to think that there were no more secrets. Sariss kept a few. Why shouldn't Severus, too, keep parts of his life private? She wouldn't begrudge him that. Some things needn't be spoken about. Some ghosts of the past or present or future were better kept locked up inside one's own mind. Some things were not to be shared, as they'd only cause pain.
What were the secrets that Sariss kept? One of them was that she'd recently found out something about the ingredients of the potion she'd been administered. She might tell Severus about it someday, see what he thought. It had been a stab in the dark, but there was no doubt that there must have been some unicorn blood in the potion to ensure that her little body survived the change no matter what. It also explained why it sometimes seemed so hard to go on living at all. Someone who slew something as pure as a unicorn to drink its blood was damned to a half-life. But did it count nothing that it had been forced into her? Apparently not.
Did Dumbledore know about that? Had Severus found out? Had they found it out and hadn't told her to protect her? Sariss needn't know. It wouldn't change anything if she knew the answer to those questions.
"You all right?" Severus's voice said. He sounded worried. Of course. She hadn't smiled when he had been funny in that subtle way that was his kind of humour.
"Yes," she smiled, even though it hurt at the moment. Actually no, but I'll pretend best as I can.
Silly thing, why?
Because I can't have him or Dumbledore or anyone else hover over me like vultures, that's why.
Vultures? They're protecting you, for heaven's sake! They're trying to help you. Look at Severus. He can tell your smile's a fake and your answer was a lie.
Sariss found she couldn't meet his gaze. Mere minutes ago, she had been fine and now she felt like drowning. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. She wanted to scream, 'NO! I'M NOT ALL RIGHT! I'LL NEVER BE! WHY IS IT THAT EVERYTHING AND EVERYBODY SEEMS TO BE ASKING ME THAT STUPID QUESTION WHEN—'
Severus's lips were touching her forehead. She couldn't even bring herself to appreciate it as much as she would have liked to. Her body seemed to be frozen and numb. She didn't even have tears. Usually they came when she felt like this, unbidden. She found she felt too empty even for crying.
"Oh dear," Severus sighed and stroked her cheek.
It was as if Sariss was watching herself and him. She had no incentive to react to him; there was no motivation.
"When I ask you if you're all right, don't say 'yes' when you can't make it sound convincing. Please say something." He took her face in his hands.
Sariss couldn't think of anything to say.
He kissed her very gently on the lips. A light seemed to snap on in her mind, startling her out of her petrifaction. It was not the kiss that brought her wandering mind back to reality. It was something else. His emotions opened before her like a flower. She found she was more like the Sariss she knew she was again when she sensed herself through him. Her arms rose out of their own volition to enable her hands to hold onto him. Somehow, she needed him to hold on to. Physically and psychically alike.
"You all right?" Severus asked again.
"Ye—No, but I'm working on it," Sariss heard herself say.
"Then come."
"I don't think I can."
"They've been waiting for you for weeks. Just like me. They do want to see you. Dumbledore has been very concerned. And you do realize that you left Hagrid even more heartbroken than me when you refused to see anyone, don't you?"
"It's not fair. Now you're making me feel bad," Sariss said. "And stupid."
"And cowardly?" he suggested.
"Yes. And I hate that."
"Good."
"What? What are you playing at? Has the Severus Snape you sent off come back with a vengeance or what?"
"Apparently, the one that finds you irresistible can't handle you without the one that thinks you're the most annoying person in the world."
"You're such a—."
"Yes, tell me what I am," he challenged. "Let's continue in this manner for another few minutes and you'll be angry enough not to care about anything else."
Sariss was dazed. "You're…" she began half-heartedly.
"Yes?" He sounded amused. "What am I? Severus Snape, sexy Slytherin at your service."
"I never said that."
"You did. It was kind of muffled, but you did say that."
Sariss felt the blood shoot into her cheeks. "You're evil, you know that?"
"Believe me, I heard you say it. And I could hardly believe it myself."
"Then don't. You imagined it."
"No. You said it twice."
"You're keeping tabs—Can't think what could ever make me say that."
"I can," he said suggestively.
Sariss buried her face in her hands. "I'm so fed up with you. Fine! There you have it! I give up! And if it kills me, I'm going in there now—just to be able to see someone who's not wearing a self-satisfied smirk for a change."
"That would be a point for me."
"You're still as obnoxious as you've always been. Can't seem to be able to remember what I was thinking when I decided that it wouldn't be a bad idea to consider ever being with you."
"You'll change your mind about that as soon as you feel the urge to dig your fingers into my strong and oh so sexy back and all that. You know, I have a few fairly deep scratches on said sexy back. All over it. I don't think I'll be able to sleep on said sexy back—"
"It wasn't exactly your back—."
"Do enlighten me." He had the wickedest grin on his face that Sariss had ever seen in all her life.
"It was a bit lower than that and I'm fairly sure that I was sufficiently… moderate."
"Hmm. Yes, maybe."
"Maybe?"
"Fine, you were moderate enough. But you said it. Come to think of it, you said many things that I'd file under compromising—if only I could remember them… I think I'll have to be more attentive on that sector."
Sariss's face must have been glowing bright pink. "Will you ever let me hear the end of something I now entirely refuse to remember because of its apparently vast entertainment value?"
"No."
"That's what I expected. Oh joy."
"You'll have to bear with me. I'm villainous."
"Oh, yes, you are indeed—" He wasn't even blushing while her face must be glowing scarlet already. "—although you're a villain with a very se—cute backside. So there you have it."
"Why, for a man my age it's very flattering to be told that—especially from someone who's taken stock so expertly."
"Who taught you that?"
"What? Quick remarks or—." He stooped for a moment to whisper into her ear, before he continued, "—how to make love to a woman in a way that makes her flatter my skills exceedingly?"
She tried to give him an exasperated glance, but found herself unable to do so because she had to laugh. "If you ask me like that… both?"
"Fine. Firstly, I've built up the reputation of being a natural at being sarcastic. That requires quick repartees. And secondly… tricky question, you know that?"
"I can sense that. But I can help you there. I was not your first."
"Right. You weren't. But I wish you were. By the way, who taught you?"
"You did. Last night, remember? Why?" Now Sariss was amused.
"A gentleman does not speak about that where he could be overheard. But as a matter of fact, I must say that you appear to be a very fast learner. So fast that you seem to have made your teacher ambitious."
"How many house points do I earn, Professor?" she whispered. If he could be wicked, so could she. After all, she was already blushing furiously. No change there. She might as well speak what her somewhat depraved mind provided her with.
"Millions," he replied. "And a detention that I ask you to serve tonight. Miss Ravon, my office, seven-thirty tonight."
"You ask me to serve detention, my dearest Professor?"
"Do you want me to request them instead?"
"Not necessary. I might be begging you for one soon—although I don't think it should be called detention."
"Would you prefer to call it an appointment—although I do not fully understand what might be qualifying you to change the expression for a punishment for misbehaviour, Miss Ravon?"
"You're right. I've been told I've been very naughty last night. I should be serving detention with you. But there's a problem."
"I don't think so."
"Oh yes, there is. Serving detention would mean being naughty again, Professor Snape, and then I'd be serving detention again and again and again…" She snaked her arms around his waist and slowly bit her lip, throwing him a mock-thoughtful glance.
"What a vicious circle—," he said and bent down to kiss her neck. His lips moved over her skin as he continued, "You know, you could have been quite a Lolita if you'd been like that ten years ago. You'd have gotten us both in big trouble. But the imagination is strangely appealing. Not to mention exciting."
Lolita? That's a very naughty kind of compliment.
I agree. He shouldn't be allowed to say those things and sound so sexy when he's not in my bedroom.
I suppose his thoughts might just equal yours.
"Let's go back up."
"No. I may be a man—"
"You are."
"—and consequently easily to influence by such proposals—"
"Oh, that kind of man…"
"Sariss, would you stop interrupting me?"
"I'm just starting to practise quick repartees. Fast learner, you know?"
"Anyway, I insist on you going in there and have breakfast. The longer you wait, the harder it will become."
"Yes, sir, Professor Snape," she found she sounded as Lolita-like as ever possible. He seemed to agree—and approve.
"Wench. I take it you're not frightened of facing a bunch of students anymore, are you?"
"You make it sound so stupid of me."
"I only want to help you. All right, to be honest, I do not only want to help you. It works, doesn't it?"
"Well…" Yes, indeed, Sariss hadn't even noticed, but she had been so concentrated on what he had been saying and doing—and being amused and annoyed at him—that she'd forgotten to worry. She was stunned. "I'm actually feeling a bit better. Stupid but better—you creep. Sexy, my foot." She actually had to grin. She could hardly believe that he'd actually managed to take her mind off things.
"Another point for me. I'm scoring quite a lot today. Oh, and another detention for you."
"Why?"
"You called me a creep and you cursed. Let's make that two detentions."
"I'm so sorry, Professor. Not at all."
"Insolent little wench," he growled teasingly. His voice was an invisible caress when he spoke like that. "If you go on like that, I'll soon have given you so many detentions that it'll be a real punishment for both of us to have you serve them."
Having said that, he quickly brushed his lips over hers—too quickly, but it would have to be enough for now—and smiled the very smile that seemed to make the sun shine in her heart for a millennium, especially since it was so rare. It was not a grin, nor was it a sneer. It wasn't even a happy smile, but it wasn't sad either. It was something in-between. But even though, or rather because it couldn't be properly defined as one or the other, it made her feel special that it was directed at her, made her feel stronger again. Stronger from the inside, as though she could do anything she wished to—or must—do. She had a feeling she needed as much inner strength as she could get. Soon.
He laced his fingers with hers and then he pushed open the doors that led into the Great Hall.
~*~*~
Harry had gotten up early this morning because he'd wanted to do a bit of broomstick practice. Ron had woken up as he'd dressed and announced he'd join him. They could even do a bit of Keeper practice that way, although Harry thought Ron was good enough as it was. He didn't need any additional practice. However, he had not been one to object. Everything was always more fun when Ron was there, too. Well, almost everything…
After almost two hours of flying, a bit of practice and lots of joking, they mutely agreed to declare the flying session ended and made their way back towards the castle. The prospect of having a really big breakfast seemed to accelerate Ron's pace in particular, though Harry would have lied if he'd said he wasn't hungry, too.
As they entered the Great Hall, most of the students who were staying over the holidays were already assembled. No Slytherins. There were only few students staying this year. Much less than any year before this one; Harry had already noticed that the previous day. In Harry's first few years, almost everyone had stayed over the Easter holidays. But during the last few years, the number of students who went home had drastically increased. Why that was so, Harry didn't know. Weren't they safer at Hogwarts than anywhere else?
However, the people who were there were the really important ones. Harry's best friends—Ron, Hermione and Ginny, the light of his life.
"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said. "Hi, Ron."
"Good morning, Hermione, Gin."
"Up so early, Harry?" Ginny greeted him with a little peck on his cheek, as he sat down next to her.
"Yeah," Harry said, returning the kiss. "I felt like flying a bit."
"Thought you did," Ginny smiled. She knew exactly how much Harry liked the feeling of freedom he experienced when he was flying on a broomstick.
"Don't even bother wishing your brother a good morning," Ron said teasingly. "I always knew I had no chance against the great Harry Potter."
"Don't go that way, Mr Weasley. You could do with taking a leaf out of Harry's book and pay your girlfriend the attention she deserves," Hermione spoke up, throwing a glance at Ron and raising her eyebrows at him.
"What? Oh… Right!" he exclaimed, having finally caught on. An apologetic smile on his face he bent down to kiss her. "Do you forgive me?"
Hermione seemed to ponder this. He gave her another kiss. "Well, alright," she said as soon as he'd pulled back, "but only on one condition…"
"What is it? I'll do everything," he answered in an exaggeratedly desperate voice, spreading his arms for emphasis. Harry snorted. Ginny sniggered and buried her face in his shoulder.
Hermione smiled mischievously, raising her eyebrows. "I'll tell you later…"
Harry shook his head, still grinning, and began piling some pancakes on his plate and Ginny's. Ron and Hermione kept flirting with each other until suddenly Ron looked past Harry with wide eyes.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked as Hermione mimicked Ron's gesture. He had just jerked his head in direction of the doorway.
"Professor Ravon is back," they whispered.
~*~*~
Sariss held Severus's hand firmly as the two of them entered the Great Hall. She felt as though every pair of eyes was looking at her, examining her, boring into her. And indeed, all twelve assembled people were staring at her quite openly, five teachers and seven students. Only seven students. So very few.
She tried not to make eye contact with any one of them as Severus gently guided her towards the empty seat next to Dumbledore. The headmaster had jumped to his feet at their entrance and now stepped towards her and took her hand. "Sariss, my dear, I am glad that you're feeling better. And I'm equally glad at the fact that you have decided to join us for breakfast again. Perhaps we will also have the honour of your gracious presence at lunch and dinner?"
Sariss nodded, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the multitude of emotions that whirled through the room, but there wasn't anything vindictive. And if there was, it was completely overlapped by surprise and relief.
"Severus must have been much more convincing than you were, Albus," Professor McGonagall said with an undertone, the corners of her mouth twitching—but Sariss might as well just have imagined it.
"Ahem… yes, well, he was… quite… er… convincing. Very convincing lecture," she stuttered, in vain willing her voice to sound firm and trying as hard as possible to prevent her face from going crimson.
Hagrid pulled her into a hug, almost suffocating her as he did so, before she could do anything about it. "If yeh find the time yeh could tell me how exactly he managed tha'…"
"Hagrid!" Sariss pushed him away, feeling that she was blushing all over if that was possible at all. "This is…" She was at a loss for words.
Hagrid was grinning as broadly as ever, although he wiped away a large tear that was running down into his beard and then sniffed and blew his nose on a tablecloth-sized handkerchief.
Dumbledore, too, grinned behind his beard. McGonagall fought bravely to keep her face straight. Professor Sprout sniggered. So did tiny little Flitwick. And even Severus wasn't of great help. He seemed highly amused at the situation he had put her into… More amused than embarrassed. Admittedly, she wasn't blameless either but Severus definitely looked too smug about his being 'convincing.'
Sariss heaved a sigh.
"You people," she said resignedly, scowling at Severus for a second (she couldn't keep it up longer; it felt too good to be so welcome after everything that had happened…) "I wasn't prepared for you to be like—this. You're much worse than I could ever have expected! Different worse, but worse nonetheless. Worse than children you are—and you call yourselves staff members! And you, too." She tried to glower at Severus. "You're such a child."
This wasn't helping at all. He still had this latent grin on his face. So Sariss finally gave up and settled for, "If you'd please be so kind as to simply ignore me? I haven't been eating very much for quite some time and… well… the only reason I'm still here at all is that I'm hungry and could eat a Hippogriff. So just ignore my stuffing food into my face, alright?"
As she finally sat down—Severus had pulled back the chair for her to sit down; like a true gentleman, she thought, smiling slightly—she could see the students whispering among themselves.
Great. Gossip.
Just wait until term begins…
They really should raise my salary for providing the entertainment.
What the hell, they'll find something new soon.
Wasn't there a Quidditch match scheduled to be played on the last weekend in April?
Yes, I think so.
Good. Now… Bacon and eggs or fruit salad or toast…
Why not a bit—or perhaps a bit more—of everything?
~*~*~
Harry exchanged some glances with his friends and the other students.
"Is something wrong with my eyes or are they actually holding hands?" Ron asked horror-struck.
"As far as I can tell they—."
"Oh, my god! Don't tell me you saw it, too," Ginny whispered.
Hermione grinned. "So it wasn't just a figment of my imagination?"
"Definitely not."
"Excuse me," Harry interrupted. "What is definitely not a figment of Hermione's imagination?"
"Clean your glasses and look closely. Professor Ravon has a bruise on her throat that looks suspiciously like a love bite—and I should know what they look like."
Ron looked even more horror-struck, as Ginny said this. Obviously, he was speechless.
A broad grin was on Hermione's face as she watched a blushing Professor Ravon be almost suffocated by a hug of Hagrid's.
"For the record," Ginny stated brightly. "There is definitely something between Ravon and Snape. Oh, the possibilities…"
She suddenly reminded Harry very much of the twins, her brothers Fred and George—or occasionally: Gred and Forge.
Ron buried his head in his hands for a long moment and heaved a deep sigh, shaking his head.
"I was right," Hermione said in a singsong voice and extended a hand towards Ron, who looked up at that. "Hand it over."
Ron rummaged around in his pockets, pulling out some coins here and there and counting the knut-and-sickle-equivalent of a galleon on the table. "Harry?"
"What's up?" Harry asked, strangely feeling very much better now that everything in the school seemed to be back to normal again.
"From now on it's your job to remind me to not ever again have a bet with my greedy girlfriend."
"And for that matter, you could actually do this for all the redheads in here," Ginny grinned at him. "That makes you feel quite important, doesn't it?"
Harry laughed and nodded while Hermione tsked and made a face at Ron, which made Harry laugh even harder.
"It's not that you, Ronald Weasley, wouldn't get anything out of the deal. The thought has just crossed my mind that I could invite you three to a Butterbeer the next time we visit Hogsmeade. My newfound riches would enable me to do so."
"You just reminded me of one of the reasons why I love you so much."
"If there is a next time," Harry threw in. "Unless they put some wards up it's unlikely that we'll be allowed to go there."
Ron made a cough that sounded suspiciously like "One-eyed witch," which caused Harry to roll his eyes. He had not forgotten the trouble he had gotten himself into when he had used the tunnel to Hogsmeade the last time. He had been caught by Snape, of all people!
Harry shrugged. Snape would be otherwise occupied—a thought that didn't make him shudder with disgust so much anymore. Perhaps he had gotten used to the idea that Snape might not be that bad after all…
I'm getting soft, he chuckled to himself.
"Alright then, but we'll not risk being seen outside Honeydukes. For once, we'll at least partly obey and not go out into Hogsmeade, but stay inside Honeydukes. That way we can at least get some goodies."
Everyone agreed to that, although Ron sounded a bit forced. No Zonko's. But it was better than nothing, wasn't it? And thus, they decided to go through the tunnel whenever the opportunity presented itself, keeping up a steady supply of chocolate and other sweets in their dormitories.
Next chapter:
Severus wants Sariss to trouble him, too much to do and too little time, naughty things, an interruption—and Severus asks Sariss to talk about what happened.