Chapter Twelve - Ropes

A/N - Frenchy Snape. Couldn't help. Its just the nose, well... its a pure sign of frenchness. A long chapter. Thought of breaking it in two. Decided not to. First er... (shall we call it a kiss?) as requested.

After what seemed an hour (but was actually only ten minutes), Bellatrix had a small length of rope knotted into what seemed sufficiently tough.

Snape swatted at a spider and she quickly grabbed his hand, pulling it away.

'Please don't.' She said quickly.

Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Have a soft spot for spiders, do we?'

Bellatrix shrugged, 'If you must know, I have not mistreated a spider... Not since Draco...'

'Of course.' Answered Snape, a slight smile. 'Draco's quite the little animagi. Like his patronus being a spider, He has also learnt to transform himself into a spider, though I must say, larger and more beautiful than most.'

Bellatrix smiled at the praise for her nephew. 'He used to be so fond of you, you know... but now... ugh. It seems he has so much on his plate that he hasn't time for anyone. Sometimes I wonder whether it would have been different if he'd been sent to Durmstrang.'

'Dont dwell on things passed, Bella.' Snape answered wisely. 'I am sure that I wouldn't have turned out so bitter and twisted if i'd gone to Beaux Baton's, as was my fathers wish.'

'Then...you're french?' Bellatrix asked, her eyes widening.

'Oui.' Snape answered, his lips curling slightly. 'Half- my mother was english but my father was french. Where else do you think I get this nose from?' he pointed to his face.

Bellatrix looked at his face. She had never really looked at it before, at least, not so closely as she did now. Her eyes swept over his hooked nose with a streak of dirt on it. As she timidly wiped the dirt off with one long finger, she gazed into his dark, black eyes and at his full, soft lips.

Suddenly she turned away, a blush creeping up her neck. 'Then is it true that French men are good at...'

Snape frowned. 'French men are good at what?'

Bellatrix shook her head and closed her mind quickly, a mischevious grin on her face. 'Nothing.'

Snape grasped her chin and turned her face towards him,amusement dancing in his eyes. 'Yes, there is something.'

'Honestly,' Bellatrix answered airily. 'Its just a myth.'

Snape let go of her. 'It is not,' he sniffed, 'A myth.'

A period of silence passed between them and Bellatrix continued with the rope, refusing to look at the man who sat opposite her in the pit.

'Would you like help with that? Snape teased.

Bellatrix pressed some rope into his hand. 'Yes.'

Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Yes what?'

'Yes, I would like some help with the rope?'

Snape sighed. 'Please, Bellarix, you say "Please" when you want something.'

'I'm not your child, Severus!' Bellatrix retorted darkly. 'And I am not about to plead for anything, unless it be mercy from the Dark Lord himself.'

'Well then,' Snape leaned back against the wall, 'Don't expect anything from anyone, unless it be mercy from the Dark Lord himself- and even then I wouldn't expect it.'

Bellatrix could not glare at him for long. She continued with her rope dubiously as Snape watched.

After another few minutes she gave up, throwing the rope down. She let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her hands together, the skin worn from them, raw and flushed an unpleasant pink colour.

Snape's sneer softened as he propped his wand on the floor and gathered her hands in his, beginning to massage them gently, telling her about how he never worked with gloves while cutting up roots for potions and as a result knew the exact way to massage raw hands. Bellatrix somehow doubted any of this, but it made a good excuse to touch her, and she consented.

Minutes passed silently, thier fingers entwined, Neither wishing to pull away. Bellatrix closed her eyes and breathed heavily, leaning against the wall. She smiled as she felt Snape's lips brush against her forehead, then over her own lips. Opening her eyes drowsily she placed a finger over his mouth.

'Wait, Severus. I want to say one thing.'

Snape raised his eyebrows in question. 'Is it to do with French men?'

Bellatrix smiled. 'That night... the night when I was drunk... and you gave me potion... and you kissed me...'

Snape looked away, blushing. He had thought she was asleep.

'I did change my opinion of you.' Bellatrix continued slowly, basking in his embarrasment. 'I thought you hated me. I thought you hated the Dark Lord, but you have convinced me otherwise. I... I guess that I just want a confirmation of it.'

Snape looked back at her. 'I was always on your side Bella, there was a time that yes, my loyalty towards the Dark Lord swayed under the care of Dumbledore, and by... many other things. But my heart has always been by your side, though I have not.'

Bellatrix pulled her finger away from his face, where it had lingered. 'Then I am sorry for ruining your house.' She answered serenly. 'I feel that I must owe you something of a proper apoligy.'

Snape smiled. 'Ruin my house is the last thing you did. But please, do owe me this one kiss.'

Bella's mouth curled into a smile and she leaned forward, her lips meeting Snape's in a passionate kiss.

It was as if invisible sparks flew from inside her and ripped her open; a sudden feeling that Bella had never before experienced came to the surface, spilling from her into Snape, The ropes lying forgotten on her lap.

She parted her lips slightly and let out a silent moan as Snape's smooth, sweet tongue entered her mouth, brushing against her teeth, exploring her. Her hands ran over his shoulders and she arched her back slightly, letting the pleasure fill her.

Snape drew his mouth away finally and kissed her chin, his tongue sliding down her neck, his hands over her body and his hardened man-hood and throbbing against her thigh. Reaching under her singlet, his hands found her naked breasts and began to fondle them gently, his carresses on her hardened nipples growing rougher and more urgent as she let out a moan, her breathing heavy. Drawing his hands down over her hips he was about to unbutton her skirt when a loud crack above them and the sound of cackling laughter stopped him.

PR&R/rigamortis.