AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know, I know. By now there's probably no one reading. You all stopped with Draco. Damn you. This chapter is totally unexpected, and yet, not the last, as you may have guessed. This is the last chapter I'll update tonight because I want you guys to give me some feedback. I've uploaded like nine chapters tonight and it hasn't given me time to get any reviews on what you think. You're probably all wanting to kill me for fucking this story up. Oh well, I'm sorry.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine unless it doesn't belong to J. K. Rowling.


Hormonal Half-Wits

Chapter 21: The End, Part Five


I left Malfoy to his rhubarb pie and his Cheshire-Cat grinning (something Hermione said once), and decided to drift about for a while.

Snape interrupted me.

He was sitting in an armchair, sunk down as far as his old spine would creakingly allow. I'm not too certain the empty bottle of Ogden's whiskey in his hand had begun that way, and my suspicions were ascertained as he leered at me.

Now, I'd had my fill of male hormones for the day, and was in no mood to get into a hormone battle with Snape of all people. Even if I'd had the best day of my life today, I don't think I would want to get into a hormone battle with the somewhat greasy Potions master of Hogwarts.

I was trying to sneak away, hoping he might just think me a hallucination (Ogden's has been said to do strange things to people) and go back to glaring. He didn't. I swear he was trying to be an annoying git on purpose. He reached out (I think Fred and George have invented Extendable Arms and tested them on Snape) and grabbed my wrist. Being pulled down onto his lap wasn't quite pleasant.

I may have reacted a little more violently than was necessary for the situation, but honestly, what is the proper etiquette for a situation in which your slimy Potions Master tries to force you into a lap dance?

I thought I quite under-reacted…castration should have been in occurrence, at least. I'm afraid I might have slapped him…a few dozen times. The man is quite obstinate when he's set his mind to something.

After a while, I decided I wasn't getting anywhere (though I did manage to slap Snape enough times to get a little colour into his sallow cheeks) and stopped fighting him. Snape didn't appear to be too overly drunk…when I stopped kicking and clawing he didn't try to manhandle me.

He took my chin in his fingers.

I don't think I'll ever forget the words he said to me. Though he was drunk as hell, he said them with perfect clarity…

'You're so much more beautiful than they'll ever know.'

Sigh. So sentimentally sweet and endearing…what the fuck it means, I've not a feather, but…it was sentimentally sweet and endearing nonetheless. Who the bloody feck 'they' were, what on earth he was going on about calling me beautiful…not a bloody feather…

Not a ruddy clue in hell…

I was somewhat less than struck speechless. I'm sure I muttered what the fuck a few…dozen…times. And then it all happened so fast. Snape still had his fingers on my chin and he was pulling me closer…and closer…and closer…

It was one of the most tender and gentle kisses I've ever experienced. I pulled away after a moment, savouring in the chaste feel of his lips against mine. He stared at me for a moment, and I swear I saw the alcohol clear from his eyes.

He said he was going to die. I wasn't sure if I should say something to that, or even if I was supposed to, what I would say…so I stayed quiet. He took another sip from his bottle and said the Order was sending him on a suicide mission. A last attempt to kill some of the more evasive Death Eaters out there.

I was shocked. Somehow, no matter how many horrible and gruesome deaths I'd wished on Snape back in my 'I'm-failing-Potions' days, to hear that he was actually going willingly into death made my chest ache.

He looked up at me then and said he had a secret to tell me. Well, I couldn't very well tell a man who'd just told me was going to die to 'hurry up and fucking say it, then' , so I just nodded encouragingly.

He said he loved me.

The breath left me all at once. Through all the strange things that have happened today, through all the lustful stares and heated moments, not one person has verbally said those words. It struck me down in a place I would never imagine love could hurt…my heart.

He gave me a weak smile and said he knew it was hard to imagine someone like him and someone like me, but he said I needed to know…even though the chance of him surviving the mission is so dreadfully low…he needed for me to know. He said he wouldn't ask how I felt, he was just content to let me know.

I kissed him back.

I don't hate him…I don't even dislike him. I didn't think I loved him, either, but when he said…just a week to live…a week and I might never see him again…I knew. Something I'd never asked myself…something I'd never before that moment even contemplated. I did love him. In a strange way that I could never have loved Harry or Zabini or Moody or Malfoy. It was different…so different I felt it shouldn't be called love, but something new and undiscovered.

He was smiling now, and I knew I saw a tear swimming at the very surface of his eyes. He said that was all he wanted…all the answer he could have ever hoped for. I thought he was talking about the kiss when I noticed teardrops on his shirtfront. I was crying too. He said, in addition to the secret and the burden he'd given me, that he had a favour to ask.

He asked if I would spend the night with him tonight.

This time I was struck speechless. He said he had started having feelings for me. He was stupid enough not to say anything about them and now that he would be dying…in just a week…he just wanted to let me know and ask this one favour of me. I didn't know what to say.

So I said yes.