Disclaimers 'n' Stuff:
I do not own these characters, nor did I create the universe in which they live or the magic that they use. All I do is flesh them out a little.
I am also very much NOT British in any way, shape, or form, so if I'm not entirely accurate with anything, I apologize in advance. I do have one Brit friend (thanks much, Davenport!!) so hopefully I didn't botch too much of it.
Read on, enjoy, and please leave some constructive criticism!
Besides the hourly contact that the two shared while taking the Purgative Potion, for the rest of the day Snape ignored the stupid girl and Nicole avoided the intimidating professor. At midnight, Snape was sitting in front of the still-roaring fire with a glass of wine, fuming quietly. He was sure that countless students were sneaking out of their dormitories, safe in the knowledge that Snape was locked in his chambers. On nights like this he would usually vent his frustration by stalking the corridors, but his wine was not an entirely unsatisfying substitute. He kept a nice stock of Muggle alcohol for occasions just like this.
The wine traced a cool, tingling line through his body. Realizing what time it was, he drew the vial from his pocket and tilted his head back, letting a drop fall into his mouth. Then he braced himself and went into the bedroom quietly, hoping Archer was asleep.
The candle was still burning – she must have fallen asleep without putting it out. The girl's eyes were mercifully shut. Snape hesitated before approaching her, letting his gaze sweep over her. He had never really gotten a good look at her before. The candlelight flickered in her hair and cast deep, ever-moving shadows down her body. Snape's eyes lingered a little too long over that part of her. The way her robe settled over her curves was almost indecent; no proper student should allow herself to be seen in that state.
Snape forced his gaze to her face and stepped the side of the bed, ignoring the slowly-growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. Still watching her, he uncorked the vial. He was close enough to hear her breathing now. Her lips were parted slightly, sighing with every breath. Snape suddenly wondered what color her eyes were. Probably brown, like her hair. Her long eyelashes fluttered, and Snape took a deep breath. To his horror, she stirred, and opened her eyes.
"What are you doing?" Nicole squeaked, bolting to a seated position.
Snape checked his initial response and let his face assume an impassive expression. "I am here to give you this." He held the vial out to her.
Nicole took the vial, her eyes locked on her professor's face. Why on earth would he be looming over her in the middle of the night like that? Why didn't he just say something? She should have looked when she had thought she heard the door opening. More importantly, why had he been looking at her like that? When she had opened her eyes, the look on Snape's face was… oh, god, Nicole didn't even want to think about what it was. Better to ignore it, better to look at her hands and not at him. "Thanks," she said flatly, handing the vial back to him. Their fingertips brushed, and Nicole yanked her hand away. Without glancing at Snape, she said "Goodnight" quickly. She didn't lie back down until he was out of the room and the door was closed.
Back in his study, Snape threw himself into his chair and drained his wineglass in one go. The way she had pulled her hand away from his, like his touch had burned her, sparked a rare fury in him. He cursed her for her callousness, he cursed himself for thinking such vulgar thoughts about a student, he cursed the blasted poison for quarantining them, and he poured himself another glass of wine. After thinking for a moment, he took a bottle from one of his shelves and let five drops of liquid fall into his glass. A mild and temporary forgetfulness potion should ease his mind. Snape drained this glass just as quickly as the first.