Chapter 3:
Holding in a cry of despair, I turn to Severus. Though only moments before his mouth had been as open as mine, it has now clamped shut and tight since Albus swept from the room.
I risk a look directly into his eyes. They are boring directly back. A dozen responses float quickly through my mind, on how to approach what Albus left, before quickly dropping to me knees in front of him, grabbing his hand, bringing it to my lips and kiss it softly, almost in exact replica of the gesture he afforded me many years ago.
A sharp intake of breath and Severus's eyes flutter. Ah. The last time I saw his eyes flutter was during the consummation of our marriage, mere hours before my life became forfeit. Severus's proud head, flung back in ecstasy, mouth open in amazement, body still rocking. Beautiful.
I train my eyes back on his, as they flutter one last time and open. "Bena" he begins sharply, "you do realize we are being manipulated into this. The old man wants something."
Smiling because I know what it is the old man wants, "Of course, Severus, but why deny ourselves, if, in the end, it is inevitable?"
"It endangers me, your being here."
"My mere existence, whether I am here or elsewhere, endangers you." Whispering softly in his ear, I climb onto his lap, his hands rising in protest. But as I capture his mouth in mine, all forms of protest are calmed.
A minute of soft whimpers and moans fill the Headmaster's office, before I collect myself and stand up. Severus is, by now, breathing raggedly. "There has been no one," he whispered, "all these long years; no one has touched me. I remained faithful to you, Bena."
That is a confession I had not been expecting. Taking his hand I calmly, much more calmly than I would have expected, lead him from the office. We walk, still holding hands, down the corridor, across the Great Hall, and as we are descending the hallway to the dungeons, a voice cuts the silence.
"Severus Snape, where have you been? You were to meet me an hour ago."
Minerva McGonagall. Clad in her tartan dressing gown she is standing in the hallway in front of us, mouth set sternly, arms crossed. My hand is dropped as Severus's pace quickens as he approaches his colleague. Before he can begin an explanation, she has noticed me, her posture straightens. She pulls her dressing gown closer to her body.
"The Headmaster said you would be arriving this evening. Did he forget to assign you rooms for the evening?"
Oh, very good Minerva. I feel Severus tense beside me, having brought myself even with them both. "I'm afraid it must have slipped his mind, Minerva. I would have gone straight up to the rooms assigned the post, but I do rather think Remus Lupin would be quite surprised to find me crawling into his bed." I have purposely left myself open for attack, and the woman named after the Roman goddess of war and wisdom fairly leaps at the chance.
"But I suppose crawling into the dungeons has elicited a different response?"
Touché. The verbal barb was as well formed as I could have hoped for. Nodding my head as way of acknowledgment that she has hit home, I make a more visible display by taking a deliberate step away from Severus. Severus reacts, by swileving his head in my direction.
"You are quote correct, Minerva. I have forgotten my place. I shall request room from Albus. Please excuse me." Inclining my head curtly, I turn to leave, my robes swirling around me.
Severus stirs. "Wait."
My face is thankfully away from them both as I break into a smile. I slowly cock my head at him.
"There is no need to bother the Headmaster this evening" he is continuing, ignoring the furious glance thrown him by Minerva, "You may have my bed, I shall sleep on the sofa."
How chivalrous. And completely at odds with what his body desires at the moment. Minerva's lips are again pursing into a thin line. Saying not a word, she exits swiftly from the hallway. Severus and I are again in our silence. Pleasing is not an adequate word for the emotion rolling from me. Severus has, as clearly as he does, begged. What power.
Affecting nervousness he knows I will fall for, Severus rubs his hands together, whispering the password to his rooms. I follow. The room is surprising. I have for many years imagined these rooms in my dreams. This is not the stuff dreams are made of. Severus's descent into bitterness and seclusion has pervaded all aspects of his life, just as Albus has been writing in his letters to me all these many years.
The monotony of the rough walls is broken only by the occasional painting or framed ancient parchment. It is interesting, I must add, that in these rooms of a, albeit reformed Death Eater, though one still advocating the necessity of pure-blood lines, the painting are all of muggle origin. Severus does indeed value his privacy.
A fire is lit in the grate, due to the excellent foresight of the house elves. Severus raises his wand, resealing his door and calling forth a bottle of deep merlot and two wine glasses.
Settling myself comfortably on the aforementioned sofa, my stocking feet are soon pulled underneath in a gesture of informality, my shoes having been deposited gracefully on the floor. Severus is pulling his dressing gown open as he crosses the room to me, settling just far enough away for decorum. My eyes are darting nervously around me.
Now that the moment is close at hand, I am feeling my resolve slip slowly away. The desire to seduce Severus Snape is lessening. Severus makes the decision for me, for as he hands me my glass of wine, his fingers interlace with mine and his lips somehow find their way to the hollow of my neck.
Oh.
I pull away, still wanting the upper hand, still wanting to prolong this sweet torture. Murmuring as I nibble my around Severus's left ear, "Severus, we must find a way to catch the old man. He wishes you distracted, and me destroyed, all in the name of Harry Potter."
His eyes widen as he hears me, but, still playing the game, he is moving his head so he is again gently biting, though his attention has this time been focused on my shoulder, "Then we shall provide a cautiously unified front to the old man. Both of us, of course, protesting publicly we had not thought to rekindle the relationship. To the Dark Lord, though, my dear, you ought to start declaring some loyalty."
Forcing the revulsion that had strongly risen in me at that thought, I focus more to the appealing aspects of the newly formed plan, and I place myself firmly underneath him on the sofa, effectively pinned, as we slink further into ourselves.
Holding in a cry of despair, I turn to Severus. Though only moments before his mouth had been as open as mine, it has now clamped shut and tight since Albus swept from the room.
I risk a look directly into his eyes. They are boring directly back. A dozen responses float quickly through my mind, on how to approach what Albus left, before quickly dropping to me knees in front of him, grabbing his hand, bringing it to my lips and kiss it softly, almost in exact replica of the gesture he afforded me many years ago.
A sharp intake of breath and Severus's eyes flutter. Ah. The last time I saw his eyes flutter was during the consummation of our marriage, mere hours before my life became forfeit. Severus's proud head, flung back in ecstasy, mouth open in amazement, body still rocking. Beautiful.
I train my eyes back on his, as they flutter one last time and open. "Bena" he begins sharply, "you do realize we are being manipulated into this. The old man wants something."
Smiling because I know what it is the old man wants, "Of course, Severus, but why deny ourselves, if, in the end, it is inevitable?"
"It endangers me, your being here."
"My mere existence, whether I am here or elsewhere, endangers you." Whispering softly in his ear, I climb onto his lap, his hands rising in protest. But as I capture his mouth in mine, all forms of protest are calmed.
A minute of soft whimpers and moans fill the Headmaster's office, before I collect myself and stand up. Severus is, by now, breathing raggedly. "There has been no one," he whispered, "all these long years; no one has touched me. I remained faithful to you, Bena."
That is a confession I had not been expecting. Taking his hand I calmly, much more calmly than I would have expected, lead him from the office. We walk, still holding hands, down the corridor, across the Great Hall, and as we are descending the hallway to the dungeons, a voice cuts the silence.
"Severus Snape, where have you been? You were to meet me an hour ago."
Minerva McGonagall. Clad in her tartan dressing gown she is standing in the hallway in front of us, mouth set sternly, arms crossed. My hand is dropped as Severus's pace quickens as he approaches his colleague. Before he can begin an explanation, she has noticed me, her posture straightens. She pulls her dressing gown closer to her body.
"The Headmaster said you would be arriving this evening. Did he forget to assign you rooms for the evening?"
Oh, very good Minerva. I feel Severus tense beside me, having brought myself even with them both. "I'm afraid it must have slipped his mind, Minerva. I would have gone straight up to the rooms assigned the post, but I do rather think Remus Lupin would be quite surprised to find me crawling into his bed." I have purposely left myself open for attack, and the woman named after the Roman goddess of war and wisdom fairly leaps at the chance.
"But I suppose crawling into the dungeons has elicited a different response?"
Touché. The verbal barb was as well formed as I could have hoped for. Nodding my head as way of acknowledgment that she has hit home, I make a more visible display by taking a deliberate step away from Severus. Severus reacts, by swileving his head in my direction.
"You are quote correct, Minerva. I have forgotten my place. I shall request room from Albus. Please excuse me." Inclining my head curtly, I turn to leave, my robes swirling around me.
Severus stirs. "Wait."
My face is thankfully away from them both as I break into a smile. I slowly cock my head at him.
"There is no need to bother the Headmaster this evening" he is continuing, ignoring the furious glance thrown him by Minerva, "You may have my bed, I shall sleep on the sofa."
How chivalrous. And completely at odds with what his body desires at the moment. Minerva's lips are again pursing into a thin line. Saying not a word, she exits swiftly from the hallway. Severus and I are again in our silence. Pleasing is not an adequate word for the emotion rolling from me. Severus has, as clearly as he does, begged. What power.
Affecting nervousness he knows I will fall for, Severus rubs his hands together, whispering the password to his rooms. I follow. The room is surprising. I have for many years imagined these rooms in my dreams. This is not the stuff dreams are made of. Severus's descent into bitterness and seclusion has pervaded all aspects of his life, just as Albus has been writing in his letters to me all these many years.
The monotony of the rough walls is broken only by the occasional painting or framed ancient parchment. It is interesting, I must add, that in these rooms of a, albeit reformed Death Eater, though one still advocating the necessity of pure-blood lines, the painting are all of muggle origin. Severus does indeed value his privacy.
A fire is lit in the grate, due to the excellent foresight of the house elves. Severus raises his wand, resealing his door and calling forth a bottle of deep merlot and two wine glasses.
Settling myself comfortably on the aforementioned sofa, my stocking feet are soon pulled underneath in a gesture of informality, my shoes having been deposited gracefully on the floor. Severus is pulling his dressing gown open as he crosses the room to me, settling just far enough away for decorum. My eyes are darting nervously around me.
Now that the moment is close at hand, I am feeling my resolve slip slowly away. The desire to seduce Severus Snape is lessening. Severus makes the decision for me, for as he hands me my glass of wine, his fingers interlace with mine and his lips somehow find their way to the hollow of my neck.
Oh.
I pull away, still wanting the upper hand, still wanting to prolong this sweet torture. Murmuring as I nibble my around Severus's left ear, "Severus, we must find a way to catch the old man. He wishes you distracted, and me destroyed, all in the name of Harry Potter."
His eyes widen as he hears me, but, still playing the game, he is moving his head so he is again gently biting, though his attention has this time been focused on my shoulder, "Then we shall provide a cautiously unified front to the old man. Both of us, of course, protesting publicly we had not thought to rekindle the relationship. To the Dark Lord, though, my dear, you ought to start declaring some loyalty."
Forcing the revulsion that had strongly risen in me at that thought, I focus more to the appealing aspects of the newly formed plan, and I place myself firmly underneath him on the sofa, effectively pinned, as we slink further into ourselves.