25. It Happened One Night
Warbeck went on about pink lights and psychics and love, and it was all incomprehensible nonsense to Severus. As he escorted the girl to her living quarters, he was replaying what she'd shown him of her trip to the prison. She couldn't have, he told himself. But there was no way that could've been a false memory. She was far too sloshed at the moment to have pulled that kind of trick.
As they entered her quarters, she remarked, "Carrow looked like she was going to faint! So did Kingsley. God, Severus, that was like reaching the top of Mount Everest." She paused, before adding, "Only, before anyone else had done it. I'm like the first bloke that climbed Everest." She went over to her liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky. "What was his name? Was it 'Everest'? Is that how the mountain got its name?"
She took a drink straight from the bottle, before Severus grabbed it out of her hand. "No more of that," he said. "You're going to kill yourself. And it was Edmund Hillary."
"Millary," she slurred, swaying on her feet. "Edmund... Hillary." Suddenly she began to tilt backwards, and would've fallen on her arse if Severus hadn't caught her.
"Bloody hell, Warbeck!" he exclaimed in irritation. "How much have you had to drink tonight?"
"Eh - I can indulge in a couple of libations. I earned it." Wandering away from him, she went on, "I moved a mountain today." Turning back to face him, "Everest!" Next she approached Medusa's tank and tapped on the glass, gazing at the animal in wonder. "She's so coily. I'm amazed she doesn't tie herself in knots."
You're going to regret this in the morning, Severus thought. He had a potion that prevented hangovers, and he was wondering if he ought to share it with her, or let her face the consequences of her behavior.
Still with her eyes on the snake, the girl muttered, "She would make the prettiest handbag."
"If you only knew how stupidly you act when you're intoxicated," the Defense teacher mused.
"I'm a fun drunk, at least." Approaching him, she asked with a hopeful expression, "You wanna sing?"
"I don't want to hear you sing, let's put it that way."
She got quiet for a moment, her eyes shifting all around the room. "Are you doing this?" she asked.
With a furrowed brow, he replied, "Doing what?"
Leaning closer to him, she whispered in a secretive tone, "Everything's moving." She then looked over at her Venus de Milo statue with the exposed organs, picked it up and exclaimed, "Oh, my God! Someone's killed her!" There was legitimate horror on her face.
Snape merely stared at her for a beat, and then he actually chuckled. "You're right," he admitted. "You are a fun drunk. But now that the room is officially spinning, perhaps you'd like to sleep it off." He gestured to her bedroom.
"Ooh, that's a good idea," she murmured. "My bed is cozy." She turned in the direction of the room, and on her way she tripped over her own two feet, knocking into a coat rack. Again, Severus caught her before she hit the floor.
Helping her along, he remarked, "You need to figure out a different way to celebrate."
"You wouldn't sing with me," she said. "What else was I supposed to do?" When they got to the bedroom, she exclaimed, "Oh, my favorite sheets! I forgot I put them on this morning." They were blue tiger print. Throwing herself onto the bed, she asked, "Have you ever seen the blue tigers at the Majestimalia Zoo?"
"No," he replied in a distracted tone. His eyes had fallen on her vanity, upon which sat a half-dozen perfume bottles. He lingered a moment before wandering over to inspect them, as Warbeck carried on about blue tigers and various other magical creatures.
He was searching for a particular scent that he'd detected on her many times in recent weeks. It was a very familiar fragrance, and he was certain that it was the same perfume that Lily had often worn when they were teenagers. He had no idea what it was called, but he would recognize it if he found it.
Warbeck was too preoccupied with her own debate about whether mooncalves were cute or ugly to notice that he was going through her fragrances and giving each a whiff. None of them had matched, so far, but then he came upon a small bottle of what looked like... Amortentia.
There was a fleeting curiosity about whether she was planning on giving it to someone - and if so, then who - but then he furrowed his brow, looked over at her and thought, Has she been wearing it? That would explain why he'd been smelling the sweet, powdery scent that brought him right back to his school days. It was, to him, the scent of Amortentia. That and the smell of the forest at night.
"Ya know what I hate though?" Warbeck went on. "Blast-Ended Skrewts. One of those little bastards damn near set me on fire in fourth year."
"Hmph," Severus smirked. "Perhaps you should've incorporated them into your tolerance training." He'd only been joking, but a look of genuine consideration came over her.
"That... is an excellent idea," she said.
Summoning the hangover potion and a glass, he replied, "No it isn't."
"I should've consulted you about that. You're just the sort of bloke who's probably spent years thinking up creative ways to torture people. Sectumsempra, for example."
He sat at the edge of her bed and poured an ounce of the potion, then held it out to her. "Drink this," he ordered. "You'll thank me in the morning."
She raised the glass and exclaimed, "L'chaim!" before downing it like a shot. Setting it aside, she said, "Eh, I've got a question. Hermione comes with me to Azkaban usually. Harry came along once. And Neville came today. All my friends." She paused, before asking, "How come you've never come with me?"
Taken aback by the question, he said, "You've never asked. I wouldn't have thought that you'd wanted me there."
She was quiet for a moment, her expression turning pensive. "Remember the first time I went, and you sang to me the night before? I play that in my head to calm myself. Yesterday. I like your version better than Lennon's."
He didn't know what to say to that, but suddenly he felt a pang of guilt for not having been there even once in all these months. A part of him had wanted to go along and see to it that she was all right, that Kingsley wouldn't let the situation spiral out of hand. However...
Avoiding her eyes, he explained, "I couldn't stand to watch you get tortured."
Warbeck cocked a brow and remarked, "I didn't know you were that sensitive. Hermione, Neville, and Harry could manage it."
"Hermione, Neville, and Harry weren't responsible for Dungeon Twelve," he countered.
She appeared to be caught off guard by this statement. "Neither were you," she said.
But he argued in a low voice, "Yes, I was. It was my responsibility to keep the students safe. I'd promised Dumbledore I would." And yet, under his watch the girl had been mercilessly tortured, Michael Corner had nearly been killed, students as young as eleven years old had been chained up, Cruciated, whipped... It was only by the grace of God that no one had died.
"I've never blamed you for that," Warbeck said. "But... why did you leave me in there all night?"
"I didn't want the Carrows to think I was too merciful." He paused, before adding, "And I didn't want you to think that either."
Taken aback, she replied, "Oh, trust me, I didn't."
"You'd already seen the 'softer side of me.'" Those had been her exact words the night of their Patronus lesson. "I'd made a mistake, letting you get close. I was too kind."
With a snort, she said, "'Too kind' is not the way I would describe you, ever." She studied him a moment, and conceded, "Then again, I always knew you weren't a complete monster."
He finally met her eye, a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Emphasis on 'complete,'" he reminded.
A wide smile spread across her face as she agreed, "Right." They both fell quiet, simply gazing at each other, she with a rather glazed-over look in her eyes. Vaguely, Severus noted their indefinable color, and found himself wondering if they were more blue or grey.
He was still pondering the thought when she leaned forward, took his face in her hands, and pressed her lips to his.
Instinctually, Severus shut his eyes, and it went on for about three, maybe four seconds before he processed what was happening. Then he was shoving her away - a bit more roughly than was necessary - and jumping up from the bed as though it had caught fire.
Gaping at her, he snapped, "What the hell are you doing?!"
Her expression was a strange mix of surprise, embarrassment, hurt... and even a bit of amusement. "S- Sorry," she stuttered, dropping her blue-grey eyes from his. Severus merely stood in shock, rendered absolutely speechless, and a moment later the girl fell back onto her pillow, unconscious.
Perhaps a full minute went by before he regained his bearings, and his first coherent thought was, Bloody hell, why did she do that? Even though she was now dead to the world, he felt compelled to get away from her, and practically sprinted from the room and into the corridor.
There was a voice in the back of his head that was saying, Don't be a fool; the girl had been falling down drunk. People do all sorts of idiotic, mindless, regrettable things when they're inebriated. And yet, he was so disturbed by what had just happened that his hands were trembling. It was ridiculous - for three years he'd stood before Voldemort and remained completely composed as he deceived the ugly bastard, but this had left him shaken?
His mind was racing, and his whole body was suddenly plagued by a feeling of agitation. He began to wander through the corridors, with no real idea of where he was going until he ended up on the ground floor and noted an inexplicable pull towards Orpheline Rochester's office. He didn't even knock when he got there, but her door was unlocked and she was sat behind her desk when he barged in.
There was a strong hint of surprise in her expression when she looked up at him, but then she returned her attention to a paper she was writing and greeted in an almost bored tone, "Hello, Severus."
He shut the door behind him and locked it before approaching her. "I need to speak to you," he announced. "For no other reason than the fact that you're prohibited by law from repeating anything I have to say."
"Unless I believe that you're planning to harm yourself or others," she reminded, pushing her parchment and ink pot to the side. "But of course, I'm only bound by confidentiality in my role as a professional spiritual advisor, and you've not made an official appointment with me." Severus rolled his eyes in exasperation, and Rochester smirked. "Only joking," she said. "I forgot, you're not the playful type."
"Not at the moment, no," he replied. "Do you believe that I'd come in here if I were in a joking state of mind?"
"Sorry," she said, leaning back in her seat. "I myself have just had an exceptionally good day. I was feeling rather cheery." A pause. "Leave it to you to barge in and blow that up in smoke."
"Are you referring," he asked, "to Callie Warbeck countering the Cruciatus Curse?"
With a smile, she said, "You heard about it, then. I was just now working on a few notes regarding her success. From one Legilimens to another, it was absolutely fascinating to be inside her head while she was fighting it. I'm hoping to contribute my findings to the Magical Journal of Cognition. This whole study has been a fount of insight into mind over matter, meditative states-"
Waving his hand dismissively, Severus cut in, "Yes, that's all well and good, but I'm not here to talk about your next academic article."
"So why are you here?" she asked.
He hesitated a moment, then replied, "Like I really have to explain myself to you."
She gave him a pointed look, and said, "I never use Legilimency on a client without their consent. To do so would be a gross misuse of such power, and a violation of privacy."
Severus thought that over - and he recognized her not-so-subtle slight against his own use of the special talent they shared. But if she were being honest in her claim about consent, then he decided there were plenty of things she didn't have to know. "I don't want you reading me," he declared.
"All right, then. I often find that beneficial to a person's own awareness of their thoughts and feelings. Having to really pay attention and work it all out for themselves."
"Then what do they need you for?" he asked. That had come out sounding a lot more contemptuous than he'd intended, but she was unbothered by his tone.
"It helps to have someone to bounce ideas off of," she explained. "As well as to provide emotional validation."
Severus scoffed at the concept, and remarked, "You're overpaid."
Cocking a brow, she asked, "And how would you know how much money I make?"
"I don't," he said. "But just about any amount would be excessive, for what you have to offer."
"Hmph. If you believe me to be so useless, then may I ask, once again, why you've come to me?"
He didn't answer right away, and truthfully, he wasn't entirely sure why he'd felt an urge to go to her with this. "It helps to have someone to bounce ideas off of." Perhaps there was a bit of credibility in that statement. His mind was a mess of half-formed thoughts that he couldn't sort out into anything articulate. He couldn't even rationalize why the event had distressed him to such an unreasonable degree.
Dropping into a seat across from Rochester, he muttered to himself, "Bloody hell," and ran a hand over his already aching forehead. It took a moment for him to work up the nerve to say it out loud, and when he did, his voice was low and he couldn't face the woman. "Warbeck kissed me."
He waited for her to respond in some way, but she kept quiet. Eventually, he met her eye, but she merely sat there with a blank expression. When neither of them spoke for several seconds, she finally said, "I'm waiting for you to elaborate, Severus."
Aggravation colored his tone as he asked, "What do you want me to say?"
"A little context might help," she replied. "When did it happen, for instance?"
"Ten minutes ago, right before I came here."
"All right. What sort of kiss are we discussing?"
He did a double take, and asked, "What kind of question is that? It was a kiss."
"But was it the kind of kiss you'd give your mother or your lover?"
Severus sneered at the word "lover," but replied, "It wasn't innocent. But I stopped it before it could go on any longer." He paused, before explaining, "She was drunk."
"Oh. Well that was honorable of you, in that case."
He scoffed at that assertion. Honor had had nothing to do with it.
"So..." Rochester went on "...in a state of intoxication, she kissed you - not so innocently. You put an end to it. What happened next?"
"She passed out."
"Heavily intoxicated."
"Yes," he confirmed.
Rochester considered all that. "And now you're here," she said. "Not once in sixteen years have you ever set foot in this office. I don't believe that you and I have even engaged in forced-but-civil workplace small talk in all that time. And yet you felt compelled to share this incident with me. That's how riled up it's gotten you."
The Defense teacher felt rather offended by that, as though she were mocking him. Giving her a derisive look, he asked, "Is this your idea of 'emotional validation'?"
"I'm merely stating the facts of the matter," she replied. "You're obviously distressed about what happened."
"Would you not be distressed if someone forced themselves on you?" The moment he'd said it, he regretted phrasing it in such a way.
"Are you telling me that this was an assault?" Rochester asked.
Rolling his eyes, he said, "For Christ's sake, you know what I mean."
"That it was unwanted."
"Exactly."
"All right, then. And you made that clear, you put an end to it, and now she's passed out somewhere. So it's over and done with. And yet you remain unsettled. Tell me why."
He gave it a moment of thought and replied, "Because it's unsettling. I don't want her looking at me that way. As though she fancies me."
After a beat, Rochester said, "Let me remind you that she was black-out drunk, Severus. Have you ever gotten the feeling, while she was in her right mind, that she has any attraction to you?"
It wasn't a feeling, but a fact. "She did," he said. "When she was a student. I'd assumed she'd gotten over it, but now..." He trailed off.
"How do you know she was attracted to you then?"
He thought back on the night of their Patronus lesson, when he'd gotten a glimpse into her mind - and stumbled upon the image of himself shagging the girl. "You can chalk that up to my 'gross misuse of power,'" he explained bitterly.
Rochester seemed to be struggling to bite back a grin. "Well," she said, "let's assume that she still harbors such desires." Again, Severus cringed at her choice of term. "Why is that a problem for you?"
With a scoff, he asked, "How could it not be? I'd been under the impression we were friends. That there was nothing at all... impure between us." Shaking his head to himself, he went on, "Christ, the idea is..." But he couldn't even bear to speak of it.
Rochester prodded, "Yes?"
"It's disgusting. I've known that girl since she was eleven."
"Ah. She's still eleven in your eyes, is that right?"
Yes and no. It was a struggle to reconcile the child he'd met nine years ago with the hourglass-shaped woman who was going out on dates with thirty-year-old men. But that wasn't the primary issue. "Either way, it doesn't matter," he said. "Any desires on her part are unreciprocated."
Both he and Rochester were silent for a while, and Severus began to feel that there'd been very little point in sharing all of this with her. So far she'd had nothing particularly insightful to say, and now she knew about an occurrence that he would've liked to pretend never happened.
"Do you know much about Empathy as a paranormal power?" she asked. "It isn't like Legilimency, which requires intent and deliberate effort. It's automatic. I can't help but sense the emotions of others, whether I want to or not."
When she didn't go on, he said, "So?"
"So there's no use in trying to hide from me, Severus. Dishonesty doesn't work with an Empath."
Furrowing his brow, he argued, "I haven't been dishonest. On the contrary, I've spoken to you about something I wouldn't dare tell another soul."
She pondered that, and said, "Perhaps it isn't only me who you're attempting to hide from. Would you agree that there are certain truths about yourself that you might not care to acknowledge?"
"Such as...?"
There was a beat of silence, before she declared, "You enjoyed that kiss."
He merely gaped at her, his jaw tight as he thought, You don't know jack shit. "Have I not made my feelings on the matter perfectly clear?" he asked.
"You said it was unwanted," she replied. "Uninvited. But that doesn't mean it was entirely unappreciated."
"Well, it was," he insisted. "Do you really believe that if I'd enjoyed it, that I would be sitting here talking to you?"
She got a thoughtful look on her face, before she said, "I don't like to make assumptions about my clients. So I'm going to ask this as a very observant coworker." A pause. "You're not used to physical affection, are you?"
Folding his arms across his chest, he sighed and said, "I don't like to be touched."
With a nod of understanding, she remarked, "You're a solitary individual. That's obvious." Another pause. "When was the last time you were intimate with a woman?"
Once again he rolled his eyes, rising up and declaring, "We're done with this."
In a tone of frustration, she said, "Oh, just answer the question."
"Why? What bearing does that have on any of this?"
With a shrug, she replied, "I suppose it depends on the answer. But I can't properly help you if I don't understand where you're coming from."
The Defense teacher hesitated. He had not come here to discuss his sex life - or lack thereof - with her. And he didn't see how providing the information she'd asked for was going to do him any good. On the other hand, knowing just how solitary he was might shut down her idea that he'd been "appreciative" of Warbeck's kiss. Returning to his seat, he muttered, "1981. Happy?"
She didn't respond right away, and he wondered just how pitiful she thought him. "Nineteen years of celibacy," she mused. "Was that a matter of choice or a result of circumstances outside your control?"
"I told you I don't like to be touched," he said with bitterness in his tone.
"Are you asexual?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. But I wanted to confirm it." There was a moment's pause, before she asked, "Did you ever experience abuse as a child? Or unwanted sexual activity at any point?"
With a scoff, he replied, "This isn't an issue of deep-seated childhood trauma that you headshrinker's love to base all your assumptions upon."
"Then what is it? I wouldn't have to assume anything if you'd open your mouth and provide me a bit of insight."
"I told you straight out that I didn't like or want that girl kissing me, and you refused to believe it."
"Because I know it's not true. But what I don't know is why you're denying it, even to yourself. The issue isn't that she kissed you. It's that you did like it, and for whatever reason you're ashamed of that."
He was about to protest, but she was right - he couldn't hide from her.
"Let's be honest here," she went on. "She's beautiful, she's charming, she's intelligent... And the two of you have grown rather close over the past several months. The attraction isn't entirely one-sided, is it?"
His only response was to turn his eyes away from her, aggravation all over his face. I should never have come here, he thought. He was a God damn good liar, having pulled the wool over Voldemort's eyes for years, and the demon had been a Legilimens.
But not an Empath, as Rochester was. She didn't need to read his mind in order to figure him out, a fact that he hadn't taken into account when he'd stormed into her office. You can't lie to an Empath. As such, he couldn't deny anything. Not to her, and not to himself either.
And the truth was that, for just a brief moment before he'd come to his senses, he had enjoyed that kiss. Hell, those three seconds had probably been the highlight of the last twenty-five years of his life.
But even so, he wished that it hadn't happened.
After a long silence, Rochester said, "I understand that it may be a bit disturbing, considering you knew her as a child-"
"That's not it," he cut in. "At least... that isn't the heart of the matter."
When he didn't go on, she prodded, "Then what is?"
He hesitated, not quite so willing to explain himself. But finally he muttered, "There's someone else."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that she was taken aback by this statement. "I... find that very surprising, I've got to admit," she said.
He was amazed that she didn't ask who it was, but then again, she might've already known. Very little of his personal life was a secret anymore, thanks to the press.
Vaguely, he remarked, "She's unavailable, to say the least."
"Married?" the woman guessed.
He scoffed, thinking, Yes, actually. But how simple it all would've been if that were the only concern. "Deceased," he corrected.
When she didn't respond, he returned his eyes to her, noting the puzzled look on her face. Cautiously, she asked, "Are you referring to Lily Potter?"
As confirmation, he replied, "I see you've read the papers. Perhaps the book as well?"
"Not the book," she replied. "I do know the basic story. The two of you went to school together. At some point you fell in love with her. Obviously that didn't turn out well for you." She paused, her expression becoming thoughtful as a realization hit. "1981. The year she was killed." Another pause, and then she asked, "Can I assume that it's not a coincidence that you haven't been involved with anyone since Lily's death?"
Once again he had to look away. "She was the only woman I ever truly wanted," he explained. "After she'd gone, I didn't feel inclined to fake it with anyone else."
Rochester was quiet, and the Defense teacher wondered if she was waiting for him to go on. But eventually she remarked, "That was nearly twenty years ago, Severus."
Attempting to contain his agitation regarding that statement, he said, "I'm aware of that. Unfortunately I can't snap my fingers and stop loving her. I tried to forget about her after we stopped being friends. I dated someone else." Back in his Death Eater days, Lucius had set him up with one of his cousins. But Severus had only been going through the motions with the woman, whose name he had to strain himself to remember. "I tried to convince myself that I hated her, for God's sake." That had been a last ditch attempt to get over the woman he loved, painting her as a traitor for abandoning him and marrying the person he'd despised more than anyone.
"And now?" Rochester asked.
He bowed his head and replied in a low voice, "Nothing's changed. Time has had no dampening effect. I love that woman with the same intensity I did at fifteen." He thought back on his conversation with Dumbledore. "After all this time?" the man had asked.
"Always."
Rochester considered his words, and after a moment she remarked, "Your devotion to her is... touching. But it isn't good for you, Severus. As long as you're holding so tightly to your love for her, you'll never find fulfillment. Or peace."
"Then so be it," he snapped. "I told you, it doesn't just magically go away. And I don't give a damn about peace or fulfillment. I gave up on concepts such as those a long time ago."
"I can help you come to terms with this. I'm a healer, above all else. An emotional and spiritual healer."
But he was adamant. "I don't want or need your help. Not with matters concerning her."
"All right, then what about Warbeck?" she asked.
"What about Warbeck?"
"You have feelings for her."
"No, I don't." Clearly she didn't believe that, but it was true. Did he care about the girl? Yes. Did he enjoy his friendship with her? Yes.
...Was there an entirely unwanted, yet sneaking attraction to her?
With yet another eye roll, he sighed and said, "Physical attraction is meaningless." He hesitated, before declaring in a defeated sort of tone, "And I admit to it. All right? But that's all it is." He took a breath before continuing, "Twenty years it's been since Lily died, and I've never felt anything remotely close to what what I feel for her. Not for Warbeck or anyone else. And that's exactly why I don't want the girl fancying me - because I have nothing to give in return." Perhaps a lesser man would've been up for a cheap shag, if nothing else. Particularly after two decades of abstinence. But he had too much respect for the girl to use her as a vessel for his basic biological drives. The last thing she needed was yet another man looking at her as if she were a mere object.
Rochester studied him for a long moment, before sighing to herself. "Then my advice," she said, "is that you take the time - preferably when she's sober - to tell her that. Let her know where you stand. And where she stands."
If ever there were a conversation he had absolutely no desire to have, that was it. She was a smart girl; perhaps she didn't need to be told.
Another silence passed before Severus rose to his feet. "If you ever speak of this to anyone..." he began in a warning tone.
"You know I can't," she said. "Do you think I'm going to risk my license - my entire career - on account of you?"
He lingered a moment, somewhat calmer than when he'd arrived, but dreading whatever was going to happen when he had to face Warbeck in the morning. Was it too much to hope that she wouldn't bring it up? Turning to leave, he muttered, "Forgive me for taking up your time."
"Oh, there's nothing to forgive. As a matter of fact, I've been dying to have a session with you for sixteen years."
Pausing at the door, he asked, "Why?"
She gave it a second of thought, and replied, "I suppose it's because I enjoy a good challenge." Leaning back in her seat, she added, "I hope to see you in here again at some point."
He very much doubted that she would. "Not a word," he reminded, and left her to herself.
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Very rarely did anyone but Warbeck visit him in his quarters. So when there was a knock on his door the following morning, his heart skipped a beat. Shutting his eyes, he told himself, You're going to have to face her sooner or later. Reluctantly, he lifted his wand to open the door.
He was surprised to see her saunter in with a smug look on her face. Approaching his desk, she said, "Guess what I did yesterday."
Severus furrowed his brow, thinking, You threw yourself at me. Why aren't you embarrassed?
When he didn't respond, she repeated, "Go ahead, guess. And I suggest you expand that narrow mind of yours to consider a few of the more extraordinary possibilities."
"You lifted the curse," he said in a flat tone. "You told me already."
She did a double take, her self-satisfaction vanishing in smoke. "When?" she asked.
"Last night. We had an entire discussion about it." Bloody hell - apparently she'd been even more far gone than he'd thought. What else does she not remember?
She was quiet for a moment, looking as though she were struggling to recall the conversation, before she exclaimed, "Son of a bitch! I was so looking forward to seeing your reaction when you found out! The prospect of getting to rub it in your face was almost as exciting as that of actually lifting it."
"Well... you did do that."
Shaking her head to herself, she remarked, "I don't even remember seeing you last night." A pause. "What the hell happened?"
"You were quite heavily intoxicated when I ran into you," he explained.
"Yeah, Neville and I stopped at the Hog's Head for a couple of drinks." Again, she paused, thinking back on it. There was a rather troubled look in her eyes. "But... bloody hell, I've never... blacked out before. I feel as if I've been Obliviated."
The Defense teacher remained composed, but inside he was practically jumping for joy. Merlin's beard, could it really be this easy? She has absolutely no idea. No need for any awkward conversations or avoidance of each other's eyes. God bless the man who invented Firewhisky.
"On the other hand," she said, "no headache, no nausea... everything is at a normal volume..."
"I gave you a hangover potion," Severus cut in.
Cocking a brow, she asked, "That's a thing?"
"You're welcome."
After a beat, she replied, "Thanks."
"May I suggest that in the future you limit yourself? Charming as you are when you're under the influence, they say you've hit bottom when you can't remember the previous night."
Looking a bit sheepish, she said, "I'll keep that in mind." A silence passed before she leaned over the desk, setting her eyes on his. "I countered the Cruciatus Curse." The air of self-satisfaction returned. "You told me it couldn't be done. Ye of little faith."
Severus held her gaze for a moment, but then he had to look away from that soul-piercing stare.
"I wanna hear you say it," she went on, still with her eyes on him. "You were wrong."
Rolling his eyes, he thought to himself, Arrogant twit. He kept quiet for maybe half a minute, before he gave in. "I was wrong."
Straightening up, she declared with a triumphant expression, "Bloody hell, it's even better than I thought it would be! Say it again, put it in writing!"
He sat with his arms folded, looking a bit like a pouting child. But then he actually did scribble "I was wrong" on a piece of parchment and slid it across to her.
She was amazed. "I didn't think you would actually do it."
"I suppose you've earned the right to gloat," he said. "Savor it. In all likelihood, you've just achieved your peak in life. It's all downhill from this point on."
Pocketing the parchment, she remarked, "That's what I love about you, Professor-" his chest tightened when she said that "-you're always half-empty. It's very grounding." Turning to leave, she said, "I feel like going for a swim. You wanna come?"
In a sardonic tone, he asked, "What do you think?"
Still smiling, she nodded and said, "Right then. See you at lunch." With that, she left him alone.
Once she had gone, he sighed to himself. Christ in Heaven, that couldn't have turned out any better. The only negative was that he'd confided in Rochester. If only he hadn't done so, then no one would've ever known what had happened - not even Warbeck herself. Not a word, Orpheline. The idea of Obliviating her crossed his mind as he thought with a pained expression, Why did I tell her all that? Not only about the kiss itself, but...
"The attraction isn't entirely one-sided, is it?"
Yes, it was. He didn't know why he had claimed otherwise. Perhaps it had been the shock of having a woman show any interest in him for the first time in nearly twenty years. And Warbeck was a traditionally good-looking girl. But he'd confused her objective attractiveness with the idea of actually being attracted to her. The mere thought of she and him... together was quite frankly sickening. Thankfully, he would never have to think about it again. Unless...
A drunken mistake. That's all it was. She doesn't want you. She really hadn't given any indication that she still harbored that old schoolgirl's crush. Hell, she'd had to be black-out drunk for him to have any allure for her. If he hadn't sent Longbottom away, then she probably would've ended up in bed with him.
It was finally occurring to him how idiotic he'd been, and he breathed a sigh of relief. It's over and done with, he told himself.
However, as the days went by, he couldn't get that God forsaken kiss out of his head.
