Chapter 12- Crushed Butterfly

Severus gazed at Aletta as she ventured over to the couch that was in front of the blazing fire. She lounged in it with her head back on the arm. Severus couldn't help but let his gaze travel downward from her angelic face to her lengthy legs. He could tell that her breathing was irregular as the rise and fall of her chest quivered as she exhaled. Severus, ashamedly, found the sight of her to be quite thought provoking. He knew that her head was probably squirming with questions and thoughts. He knew his was, being alone in a room with a gorgeous woman. He studied her for a matter of seconds before he walked over to her so he could sit in the chair next to the sofa. She heard the click of his shoes against the floor and her heart beat even more rapidly.
"What are you thinking about?"
His deep, sensual voice reverberated throughout the room and she shivered involuntarily. He saw her and smirked to himself. Aletta opened her eyes and sat up to face him. She found him to be lounged back in the chair, the fire making his eyes glitter like black stars. The way he was looking at her made her think that he was going to jump on her and ravish her with blissful kisses. Though she wouldn't disapprove. Aletta flushed suddenly at her wicked mind and looked away from his intimidating form.
"Hogwarts, it's history," she shrugged as she felt the cool touch of his eyes.
A shiver danced over her skin as she wished she had never met him, or been momentarily entranced by his arrogant harshly handsome looks.
"Really?" was the aloofly disbelieving reply as he moved over to sit next to her.
Severus turned to partially face her. The onyx glitter of his gaze shimmered over the gold of Aletta's hair, burnished by the fire. His arm stretched negligently on the back of the sofa, his hand only spare inches from her head. Aletta tensed slightly, reacting to the latent animal instinct that warned her to tread lightly.
"I thought you might be thinking of some tactic to maneuver me to anger." His voice was low and cynical.
"Maneuver?" Aletta swallowed. Her lashes fluttered, a gold brown fringe above deepening metallic eyes.
"Isn't that what you've been doing since we met?" The softly dangerous tone dared her to deny it.
"I don't know what you mean," Aletta protested weakly. Her façade as an ingénue was being stripped away by his slicing gaze and she was helpless to stop it. "If you mean that all the times I had pissed you off? I have to admit that I have."
What is up with him?, Aletta thought, He was nice before and now he's being scary. She decided to act like a dumb blonde. Two could play at that game.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe you're as innocent as you appear?" Snape smiled coldly, his amusement secret and at her expense.
Aletta almost snorted right there. He thinks I look innocent?, she thought, now he's just being crazy.
"You're talking in circles." Aletta fluttered her lashes in uncertain confusion, tossing her head to the side in bewilderment. "I don't understand what you're saying."
"Your act is very good, but intelligence has a way of letting itself be seen."
"My act?" she repeated blankly as she tried not to laugh.
Inside she knew she couldn't admit that there was any truth to his accusations. If she stopped playing the "dumb blonde" now, she would end up losing her temper and telling him exactly what she thought of his arrogant ways. That anger would not help them at all, although it would certainly release some of her own frustration.
"Really, Mr. Snape, you just aren't making any sense." She stood up to leave and walked to the door. "I think it's about time for me to go get something to eat."
She reached for the door handle. It was locked. For a poised instant, her eyes searched frantically for a release button but soon realized that it did not have one. She did not have her wand, so she unwillingly turned back to his mocking expression.
"Would you please unlock the door?"
Her request was met with silence and a complacent look. She lost her patience and walked over to him, sitting back in her spot to look for his wand on him and hex him before she unlocked the door. But she couldn't. Aletta nervously ran her tongue over her lower lip, a habit she had when she was anxious. The action focused his attention on her mouth.
"How do butterflies steal the nectar from so many flowers and remain looking untouched?" His own mouth twisted cynically, not requiring a reply.
Butterfly! The word shivered over her skin, goose bumps rising along the back of her neck. Only yesterday Aletta had told Professor Mcgonagall that her name means, "Butterfly". Coincidence? Or had Minerva told him? Or had some mysterious something passed between them, giving each the insight about the other?
"Why . . .why did you say butterfly?" She had to ask the question, her voice breathless and at odds with the guileless expression.
"Because," Snape answered slowly and arrogantly, "You are as beautiful, as fragile, and about as constant as a butterfly." It was a condemnation, not a compliment. Aletta suddenly realized what his impression of her was. A wench. He thought her a little wench that jumps from guy to guy. She wanted to slap him and push him away, but found she couldn't do that either. She knew he was just teasing her, intimidating her, probably hoping she will back off from their little quest. The back of a finger followed a strand of tawny gold hair brushed away from her face in its windblown style down the back of her neck. Aletta was pinned, like the butterfly he called her, by his coal-sharp gaze. "I've always wondered if the honey tastes sweeter from the lips of a butterfly."
His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers twisting into her hair, adding further pressure to draw Aletta toward him. Her hands spread across his taut chest in resistance.
A soft, surprised, "No!" was offered in protest.
A tug of her hair turned her face up to meet his descending mouth, a flash of cynical amusement in its hard line an instant before it captured her lips.
Brutally harsh, he ravaged her mouth. There was a buzzing in her ears, hot fires of humiliation raced through her veins. In another second, Aletta felt, surely her neck would break under the force of his kiss.
It was not the way a man would kiss a woman but the way a man would take his pleasure of a tramp, without a thought or a care to her feelings. But his strength was overpowering. Her struggles were only the useless flutterings of butterfly wings against iron bars.
Beneath her doubled fists straining against his chest, she could feel the steady beating of his heart. Her own was hammering like a mad thing. The bruising kiss was sapping all her strength, taking it from her as if it was nectar from a flower. She had to dredge the very depths of her reserves to keep from submitting weakly to his punishing embrace.
Snape had attacked with the swiftness of an eagle swooping on its prey. With the same unexpectedness, he freed her mouth and relaxed the talon-hard grip on her neck, his fingers sliding to her fragile collarbone, capable of snapping it at the least provocation. Aletta's head sank wearily in defeat, her tousled golden hair cascading forward over in his hand to conceal the flaming humiliation in her cheeks.
But she wasn't allowed the precious seconds to regain her whirling equilibrium and take the calming breaths of air. Her chin was captured between his thumb and forefinger and raised so Snape could inspect the extent of his conquest. Mirrored in his black eyes was her own flushed and resentful expression, nothing more.
"Which of us is stronger, Miss. Dumbledore?" His lip curled in a derisive smile.
"Physically you are!" she hissed, gray flames shooting from her eyes, but Snape was made of steel, not wood, and the fire harmlessly ricocheted over its target.
The grooves around his mouth deepened. "Don't make the mistake of thinking it's only physical," he warned in a low voice.
Releasing her completely, he was once again sitting strait up with his perfect posture unlike Aletta's. A movement of his hand into his robe and he retrieved his wand. With an "Alohamora" spell, the door made a comforting click.
"Goodnight, Miss Dumbledore."
Her knees trembled badly as she stood up from the couch and walked toward the door. His assault on her-it could hardly be termed an embrace-had shaken her more than she realized, but it hadn't broken her spirit. With the security of distance between them, she turned.
"Don't you make the mistake of thinking that you can intimidate me so, Snape. I'm going to do everything I can to make certain you don't torment me during our little journey. And keep in mind that the only reason I am doing it is for Ron and for my uncle!" She hurled the glove of challenge, slammed the door and pivoted sharply down the stairs.
For a few quaking steps, Aletta thought he might come after her. Unconsciously she held her breath, expelling it in a long sigh when she heard the nothing but silence in her wake. Those were bold words she had spoken, but she was determined to make them fact.