Urg, this one took a while, I've been distracted by real life . . . but said distraction has gone tree planting for two months . . . That makes me sad, but now I have time to write something. . . I tried to do this last night, but I can't allow myself to write anything while on mushrooms. It would be frightening. You wouldn't believe the shit I was considering putting in here, like, Snape playing Devil Went Down To Georgia on the violin, which just wouldn't make any sense, although the delusion was quite interesting at the time. By the way, I'm not encouraging drug use. Drugs fuck you up kiddies.
Anyway, to MiZ PuNk, I live in a stupid little hic town around Sault St Marie, ever hear of a place called Wawa? Probably not, no one has. but I've been to Oshawa and it's nice there :)
To wolf, do you mean Paul Henderson the Hockey Player, or just some guy who happens to be named Paul Henderson? The guy who kicked ass in the USSR/Canada series? The proverbial Cold War on ice? I'm jealous. Thanks for the kind words, I tip my glass to you.
To Vanessa, you like the way the plot fits together eh? I wasn't aware that the plot did such a thing. :) but thank you a million times!
Chapter 7
After the strange scene in the pawnshop, Snape led Viola on an exceedingly long walk into the dark, cold depths of London. He stopped only once, to root through the paper bag and pull out a wand- presumably his, and slip it up his sleeve.
He looked quite cold, and Viola felt bad about usurping his coat for so long. His usually sallow face was red from the wind, and his eyes were watering. She had never seen him show any physical signs of mortal life, and it was interesting to see such an unyielding person be swayed by anything.
Viola, however, was cozy and warm, and despite the relative strangeness of her evening she was feeling much better about leaving home. Christmas at Hogwarts would be enjoyable, she thought, since Brandon wasn't there, she could have some time to herself.
Her arm was stiff, and she regretted the slashes deeply, mentally making a note to heal them once she got back to the school. There was a pang of guilt suddenly, when she thought about Randy. He would most definitely come to see her in the morning, since he wasn't the type to stay silent for long no matter what, and he would be quite worried if he found her missing.
She realized very suddenly where Snape was taking her when they reached Kings Cross Station. Obviously, they were going to take a train to Hogsmeade instead of just aparating to Hogwarts. It made sense, since Snape looked like he hadn't slept in a few days and apparition was a difficult task, especially with two people. She had a feeling that he would have splinched the both of them it he attempted the faster mode of transportation, so she couldn't really begrudge the all-night train ride they were heading toward.
Kings Cross Station was completely deserted. The storm had now intensified, and everyone had retreated back to their cozy homes for Christmas. Snape suggested that she continue to cover her face, and she gladly obliged. She felt a bit sorry for him, his cheeks raw from wind burn while she was in some sultry version of leather heaven.
She pushed through the stone barrier between platforms nine and ten with ease, following him through to platform nine and three quarters. There was a steam engine waiting there, not the Hogwarts Express but a normal passenger train.
"Get on the train." he said to her silently, his frozen lips barely moving. In the shadows around the platform she made out shuffling forms, people lurking in the darkness. Snape gripped the plain paper bag a bit harder, indicating the open door on the last car of the train with a toss of his head.
Viola turned at ran into the train, out of the cold. In a compartment, she ducked down on the seat and peered out the window at the gloomy platform, watching the people in the shadows emerge at last to meet Snape. She squinted at them, but couldn't make out any faces. They, conscientious of the bitter cold, had bundled up. Severus threw the bag onto the ground by their feet, and turned to get onto the train himself. She was shocked at the strange peoples' behaviour; they practically dived onto the paper bag, tearing it open and spilling it's contents onto the ground, where the wands rolled in every direction, for them to sort through on their hands and knees.
She turned away from the window just in time, because Snape appeared in the doorway to her compartment a moment later and she would have hated to be caught spying. He entered slowly, and closed the door behind him. With a searching glance in her direction, he took a seat across from her. He didn't offer any conversation as he unlaced his heavy boots, kicking them off and pulling his feet onto the seat, sitting cross legged facing her.
"Would you be so kind," he finally spoke, easing the tension slightly, "as to reach into the pocket of my coat and hand me my cigarettes?"
She did so promptly, reaching out to hand him the half empty pack. "I didn't realized you smoked, Professor." she mentioned amiably.
He smirked, not at her but seemingly at himself. "I usually don't." He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, leaning back into the soft seat, watching the platform slowly slide away out the window as the train heaved itself into motion.
"Are you stressed out about something?" she asked meekly, blushing furiously as his head jerked up, fixing her with an icy glare. "It's just that some people smoke a lot when they're stressed out . . ." she trailed off, still flushing crimson under his intense gaze.
"You could say that." he replied after a moment. "Viola, may I ask you a question?"
"Of course Professor." she frowned, curious.
"Why aren't you at home?" He looked directly into her eyes, trying to read the emotions hiding there, carefully wrapped up in fake pleasantness and imperturbability. "You were the last person I expected to meet on Christmas eve out on the street." He told her coldly, as if he wasn't too pleased to have met her.
Truthfully, she wasn't to delighted with being stuck on a train with him either. In such close quarters with the object of her past, very strange, fantasies, she was vividly reminded of the delicious chills he was capable of providing her.
"I was kicked out." she answered the question simply, trying to compose her thoughts accordingly. "May I ask you a question, sir?"
"No." He shook his head.
"Why did you have those peoples' wands?" She asked anyway.
"That's none of your business."
"But it's your business what goes on at my home?" colour rose briefly in her face in anger.
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is." He looked slightly amused at her indignation, but didn't bother to provoke her further.
Despite the heat of the train, Viola kept herself bundled up in the large coat, finding it a comfort from her terrible day. Her cuts were throbbing, and it was hard to ignore the incessant ache. To distract herself, she watched her potions teacher discreetly, noting his movements and playing guessing games in her mind as to what he was thinking.
She watched him finish his cigarette and toss the butt into a small ashtray in the arm of the chair. He caught her eye for a second, but looked away without saying anything. He stretched, causing his shirt to lift slightly, revealing a small patch of skin and his navel. She tried not to notice how taught his abdomen looked, or how the fabric of his shirt strained around his broad shoulders, outlining every finely toned muscle there. Her mouth felt suddenly dry.
He knew she was watching him, and he was slightly unnerved. He had never enjoyed the feeling of eyes on him, it was disturbing. He knew he probably owed her some answers for his strange behaviour, but he couldn't think up a good enough lie. He respected her intelligence, and knew she would see through whatever facade he presented her with.
She was still watching. Those big brown eyes were peering at him over the turned up collar of his coat, almost unblinking. Such pretty eyes . . . He thought, before he could stop himself. A few seconds later he realized that she hadn't looked away. He felt peculiarly self-conscious under her thorough stare.
"Who were those people?" she asked abruptly, shattering the silence effectively, forcing Snape to break away from her gaze and sneer.
"None of your damn business," he said again. He sounded less angry, and just slightly bored. He began to ignore her. Viola's eyes danced over his form as he undid the top button of his shirt, and reached his hand inside to rub his shoulder delicately, as if the muscles there had begun to pain him. His eyes closed slightly, seemingly oblivious to her presence and almost relaxed.
He glanced at her again, but by now she had turned her eyes to the window, the reflections of telephone poles outside mirrored in her eyes. Slowly, she extracted herself from the coat, draping it instead over her legs like a blanket. She removed her scarf methodically, tossing it onto the seat beside her, in a heap with her mittens.
Suddenly it was his turn to watch her in rapt fascination, as she attempted to tame her windblown hair with her small, slender hands, wrapping stray strands around her thin white fingers. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly, then opened again, a smile hovering over her soft pink lips, slightly chapped from the cold outside preceding the warmth of the train.
Her tongue flicked out gently, wetting a glistening trail across her lower lip before disappearing back into her mouth. The small manoeuver struck Snape as being incredibly erotic, and he marvelled at how seductive her eyes seemed, narrowed lazily, but still sharp. He swallowed hard, his eyes glued to her collarbone, showing slightly under the firm skin of her upper chest, manifesting as she breathed in and out above the small swell of her breasts.
In her peripheral vision, she saw his Adam's apple bob up and down slightly as he gulped for air. His lovely hand gripped the armrest of the chair, lank hair hanging over alluring eyes that tried so hard not to watch her.
He was craving her.
Stop it Severus, that's disgusting . . . He searched for something to say, anything that would pulverize the electricity crackling between them before he lost all control.
"What could the Head Girl of Hogwarts have possibly have done to merit exclusion from her family?" his voice simply oozed arrogance, and the familiar drawl made Viola scowl.
Briefly, she was tempted to tell him off, but thought better of it. She remained silent for a moment, before deciding what to tell him, and in the end decided to give him a highly edited version of events, leaving out the gorier aspects.
"They weren't going to let me return to school." She told him evasively, relived to see that he didn't particularly care, which made it easier. No pity washed over his face, no compassion or understanding, and she was grateful. She wasn't sure if she could handle pity from him. His indifference made it easier to talk.
He regarded her thoughtfully for a few seconds, the tension between them growing again. He knew she was leaving a vast majority of the problem out of her small narrative, but he didn't press her further for details.
Instead he said, "Is school important enough for you to leave home?"
"Yes." she said levelly, not wanting to explain her answer. He simply nodded, idly fiddling with his lighter and looking at the floor. She noticed a Harley Davidson logo engraved on the side of the zippo, and it reminded her of Randy. His father, Red, owned a Harley, and once she had driven it with Randy. She almost laughed aloud at the memory, he was clinging to her waist, eyes clenched shut as she roared down the street on the beautiful motorbike.
She noticed that while she was reminiscing, Snape had said something to her. "Pardon?" She said, paying attention now.
"I said I know what you mean." he repeated. She had a feeling that it had been a difficult thing for him to say.
The two of them were silent for a long time, long enough for Viola to consider moving to her own compartment and trying to sleep. The small quarters were now unbearably hot, and she removed the huge coat from her legs, bundled it up and used it as a sort of pillow. She reclined comfortably, stretched out over three seats.
Snape smirked at her. "I'm pleased to see you enjoy my coat so much." he remarked.
"Would you like it back?" she said, just as sarcastically. She didn't look at him. She couldn't. She knew that if she looked, her eyes would betray her, moving over the handsome length of his body.
He, in turn, had also abstained from looking at her, those long legs, gently curved, sprawled all over the seats. Instead, they turned their attention to desperate conversation.
"What time is it?" she asked amiably, after an unidentifiable amount of time spent immersed in discussion about literature, Quidditch, and family. Snape had found a way to get her to open up and satisfy his urge to be responsible, and it was to open up himself. He established that by sharing small details about his own childhood, nothing too revealing, he could squeeze little tidbits out of her, and soon he had a very good idea about the circumstances in which she had left her home.
He was finding his time with her enjoyable, strangely, since he had always been one to seek and cherish his solitude. It seemed that after three entire days with some of the most terrible people he had ever met, it was rather nice to have some decent company. The lust he had initially felt was now gone, hiding in the back of his mind so he could concentrate on other things.
"It's midnight." he replied, glancing at his watch. A sad smile crossed her face, and she looked again out the window.
"Happy Christmas," she said in a heavy sort of voice, which indicated to the susceptible Potions Master that this Christmas was anything but happy.
Viola's presence offered him a nice distraction from the dark thoughts which would have normally been plaguing him, and he was dreadfully grateful for that. It was nice to not have to force thoughts out of his head, pacing until he collapsed.
Yes, he supposed, it is nice.
Viola's dismal thoughts were fading, replaced now by vague excitement. She was still facing two weeks without Brandon, and Hogwarts was her favourite place to be, so why be sad? She knew her parents would let her come home at the end of the year. They never really followed through on rash decisions, their tempers were just a little short sometimes.
"Happy Christmas?" he repeated in a hollow voice. "Do you really believe that?"
The dispirited smile vanished. "No, not really." She chanced a brief look in his direction. "Christmas used to be happy, I don't really know when it stopped."
"I don't think it ever was," Snape commented indistinctly.
"What do you mean?"
He winced. "Well . . . Christmas is a time for family, of course." he began, but he didn't have to finish because she understood immediately.
"Your family aren't the greatest people, I suppose?" she ventured.
"You could say that." he admitted bitterly, then thinking better of what he was telling her. Their conversation was heading down a rather personal road, and he thought it was time to stop before it was too late. "I think that's enough soul searching, Miss Rienne, unless there is anything else plaguing you about my identity." he tried to end the dialogue.
She almost laughed at his attempts to sound rude. "But I've told you everything about me!" She joked.
"Hardly everything," he sneered, but kept his voice civil. "Fine, what else are you wanting to ask me?"
She thought for a moment, then decided on one last question. "Well, in the past hour or so, I've learned where you grew up, that you had three brothers, and that you left home when you were fifteen," she counted the revelations off on her fingers. "Since you won't tell me who those strange people were, I can only think of one more thing I want to know." She hesitated.
"What's your middle name, Professor?"
He nearly laughed, but caught himself just in time to secure the unpleasant scowl on his face. He had been nerving himself up for a probing sort of question, but was relieved to hear her childish query.
"Anthony Gordon." he said quickly.
"So that's why you're less than fond of your parents." She realized, unable to keep a strait face. "They named you Severus Anthony Gordon Snape!"
"Indeed." He replied scathingly. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and deftly transfigured it into a quilt, throwing it over his legs.
Her eyes were getting heavy, and she struggled to keep them open. She too had enjoyed the long conversation with her teacher, and felt much better to have gotten everything, or almost everything, off her chest. She had told him about the suggestion of rehabilitation, but not the reason. She mentioned the kiss with Randy, but refused to use his name, and only vaguely hinted at her fear of Brandon. She felt that he had understood much more than she had actually said, though.
She yawned, and fell asleep in an instant. Severus rewarded her sleeping form with a rare, small smile and blanketed her lithe body with his quilt, making sure her feet were covered. He sat down again, waiting for the pessimistic thoughts to creep into his sanity, but they never came. He fell asleep too, for once undisturbed by the revolting nightmares he usually had to endure.
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Very few times in the life of Viola Rienne had she been called upon to make herself look presentable, but for Christmas Dinner at Hogwarts, she had vowed to overcome all obstacles and become as beautiful as possible.
Wearing light green dress robes with long, flared sleeves, an empire waistline and intricate embroidery around the neckline, she lightly resembled an angel. She attempted a lengthening charm on her light blond hair, and had succeeded in growing it down to her shoulders. For once is was brushed, and part of it was swept back into a loose braid, with snowdrop flowers poked into the tresses.
The only thing that betrayed her real identity was her footwear, or lack thereof. It had been years since she had actually bought a new pair of shoes, and those had hardly been formal. So instead, she made her way down the dungeon hallways barefoot, innocently enjoying the padding sounds her feet made on the cold stone.
She and Snape had arrived at Hogsmeade in the early hours of the morning. She had barely woken up as he lead her off the train, and into a carriage that seemed to be waiting for him at the station. Had she been in a more lucid state of mind, she would have been suspicious to the convenience of the whole situation, but instead she sat through it in a haze, sleeping for several more hours, alone in her dormitory, upon their arrival to the castle.
Feeling fully refreshed, and after sneaking into the Potions classroom to make and drink a healing draught she felt ready to face the world, or at least the faculty of Hogwarts, up in the Great Hall.
She met Snape at the first staircase leading upwards. He too had pulled himself together, and at the request of Dumbledore he looked magnificent. His usually oily hair gleamed, and was pulled back from his aristocratic features into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had abandoned the severe black apparel and was now in dark green dress robes, with silver clasps and a white cravat done up at his throat.
Snape was also feeling much better than he had in a long time. After a quick meeting with Dumbledore to report the movements of Voldemort, he had returned to his private rooms and fallen asleep for the greater part of the day, dreaming strangely of his family.
It must have been his talk with Viola that triggered it, since he hadn't thought of his family for years. The dream was odd, in black and white, and didn't turn into a nightmare until the very end, when he saw all of them, parents and brothers and live-in grandmother, bound and slaughtered, like the Dark Lord's victims had been the day before at the Riddle House. He had woken up, clawing at his eyes in panic, just in time to get ready for the feast, and as he dressed the dream slipped from his mind, leaving him with a lighthearted sort of mood.
"Good evening, Viola," he nodded courteously to her, discreetly looking her up and down, admiring her choice of attire. Viola was at a loss for words, and so only nodded back at him.
The evening promised to be rather interesting, and they headed in the direction of the Great Hall together.
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Man that chapter sucked. I'm sorry. I should rewrite it, but we must go forward, Always forward!! Now click that little button down there and tell me about your day in the form of a review, but refrain from telling me how much this chapter blew. I know that already. But please review.