Lyra shielded her eyes from the bright light shining directly on her face. "Miss Lupin?" His voice betrayed his state of confusion. His hand dropped, freeing her mouth, and he dimmed the light from his wand so that she could see.

"In the flesh and blood," she said, a bit annoyed. Even so, he still held her flush against him, so that she could feel every plane of his body behind her. Why wasn't she pushing away from him? He had a broad chest and a sturdy middle. The height difference was very noticeable, especially now. She barely reached the top of his chest. Was she short or was he just really tall? Why had she never noticed just how impressive his height was compared to hers before? His thighs felt like they were strong, too. Able to support her body weight, should she sit on them. And, now all she could feel was the bulge in his trousers.

Fuck. She was aroused.

As if he had just noticed the incriminating position they were in, he released her, quickly stepping away from her. She was a little out of breath, her mind still stuck in the moment before. He was unaffected, a little paler than usual but, other than that, it was as if it hadn't happened.

Maybe she'd imagined it all? But, why would she imagine his dick, of all things? He broke her out of her inner turmoil before she could come to a conclusion as to whether she was sane or not. "What the fuck are you doing here, Miss Lupin?" He saw her eyes, which were red from crying, and frowned, "Are you good?"

That made something inside her burst open. She didn't know exactly what took her over, or what could possibly make her think that what she did next was okay in any world, or even why she would want to, but the next second, she was launching herself at him. Her arms stuck themselves around his waist, her body attached to his.

And, she cried. Cried for her dying father, cried for her broken relationship with her brother, cried because she hated her life at the moment, cried because she wanted nothing more than to return to America even though she couldn't bring herself to go back. She cried and cried and cried and she was surprised he didn't push her away.

Her nose nuzzled his chest, inhaling the smell of herbs and sandalwood mixed with the aroma of cigarettes, which only made her cry harder. She couldn't breathe and, oh god, he was sweeping her up in his arms like she was nothing more than a lifeless doll and they were moving. She wrapped her arms around his neck as if her life depended on it. She didn't know where she got the audacity, she barely even knew him, but his concern, even in a small increment, did something to her.

She felt him drop her on something soft- a sofa? Bed? She nearly whined, pleading him to stay, but even in this broken state she was in, she knew she had no right.

But, she kind of wished he would, anyway.

He fled the room as soon as he covered the blankets over her. When she hugged him, his mind went blank. He would have expected himself to push her away, yell at her, anything but carrying her bridal style to his designated room in Grimmauld. And, there she was, sleeping in his bed. After hugging him.

She hugged him. She fucking hugged him. A harsh chuckle sprouted from his chest. Him, she went to him of all people for her own comfort! It was just kind of fucking hilariously ironic. Where was he going wrong with all of the bat-of-the-dungeons he had going on for him?

Reflecting back, he knew that he didn't give her any indication that he was approachable in any way. He might have been a slight bit kinder to her but that was only because she was a girl, and he didn't say that to be misogynistic. He just didn't believe in being an arse to women if he couldn't help it, but he'd have to tell her in no unclear terms that this was unacceptable. Even if it felt kind of nice, holding her.

How long had it been since he last was laid? He did the math in his head- he hadn't slept with anyone in 6 weeks. Yes, that would explain why feeling her soft, small body against his had him getting rock hard. In fact, it was only his burgeoning size that had him releasing her, heaven forbid she see him for the creep he was.

Yes, he needed to get laid. He was sure he'd be able to get into her knickers -he didn't miss how she leaned against his body- but that would bring upon a whole new set of complications since they worked together. He didn't do relationships and he didn't have long-term affairs either. His longest affair had lasted 3 months, but even that was back when he was much younger and naive. Miss Lupin wasn't the type of girl you fuck once and move on as if nothing happened and he wasn't the type of guy you married and had a household of brats with.

Besides, he had a thing against hooking up with his colleagues (it got messy, from personal experience) and Miss Lupin could be counted as one. She was young, too. Not young-young but young in the way of her innocence. How old was she, anyway? She was the class of 84' (that was an unforgettable group of students, though possibly his favourite ones yet), which would mean that...she'd was 28 or 29 now, not even reached 30 yet. Even though he'd had younger, although he refused to fuck anyone more than 10 years his junior, he detracted at least 5 years off her age due to her innocence.

She was untouchable. Not to mention that she was Lupin's sister and Black's current interest. If nothing else acted as motivation, not having the same interest in girls as Black did. Or, at least that's what he told himself.

He was at a standstill. Did he stay? Did he go? He wasn't about to sleep, insomnia's a bitch, which was why he was here in the first place. If he couldn't sleep, he might as well get something done and he preferred brewing the Order's potions at Order Headquarters rather than his own private lab.

As he set up the cauldrons, his mind didn't wander back to how warm her body was and how moveable her lips felt against his hand.

Lyra rolled to her stomach, her nose buried in a pillow as soft as a cloud. This bed was heaven. If only her bed was this comfortable. Wait...she sat up on her elbows, looking around. This was not her room. Where- the events of last night hit her and she was immediately filled with shame. What the professor must think of her now? Hell, she wasn't sure what she thought about herself. She needed comfort, and he was there. A human being, who gave the appearance of caring, even if it was only for a second.

They didn't...right? Her hand went down, in between her legs. Her vagina didn't feel sore and she didn't feel any sort of sticky substance there. Jerking her hips, there was nothing out of the ordinary either. She didn't believe the Professor capable of raping her, but in the emotion-high she was on last night, she knew she wouldn't have turned him down had he made a move on her.

She didn't quite know what to do. She didn't want to leave the room, should she be unfortunate enough to run into Sirius. She didn't want to have to explain exactly why she was coming out of Professor Snape's room in the morning looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. She didn't want to give that sort of impression off and the Professor certainly wouldn't appreciate it. Remus would kill him- or, more accurately, Remus would end up getting killed in the process of killing him. The Professor didn't seem one to allow attacks on his life to go unpaid and it was clear to anyone who was the superior at duelling between the two.

So, she awkwardly remained under the covers, both wanting the Professor to come so she could go and equally as much dreading his arrival. Why did she get herself in situations like this? Seconds became minutes and minutes became what felt like hours. Maybe he already left back to Hogwarts, she realized. She didn't know what he was doing here last night but he had his own quarters in Hogwarts. Or, maybe he stayed outside of Hogwarts in a house of his own. Maybe, a snide voice suggested, He has a wife and children to come home to.

At the end of the day, she knew next to nothing about him. That kind of bothered her.

Her fingers wrestled with the blanket as she grew restless. She was about to screw it all and leave when the door turned open and the Professor walked in. "I've taken it upon myself to ensure that Black is preoccupied."

"Everyone else?"

He stared her down a second before replying, "Gone."

"Oh. Okay." She rolled out of the bed and walked past him, unable to look him in the eyes. She felt stupid and embarrassed. "Er, t-thank you. I'm sorry for...you know. It won't happen again, I promise. It was...it was just a one-time thing." She didn't look back when she all but ran out of the room and out the house. Lucky for her, it was a Saturday morning so she didn't have to clock in with Rita Skeeter. 4 years of studying potions at a university and an additional 4 years under the tutelage of a potions master, with a whole degree of her own in Potions, and she was stuck in a journaling position of all things.

It appeared that potions brewing really wasn't as big of a field in Britain as it was in America, despite the fact that most of the world's most renowned potions masters, both past and present, were British themselves. She wasn't sure how things were now, but back in her time, Potions class was mostly a subject taken should one want to become an Auror or some other career that required a Potions N.E.W.T. This meant that people who were actually interested in the subject were few and far in between.

The Ministry did have a potions unit but the positions were highly competitive and reserved for British residents, not possible flight risks like her. Any Potions Masters not working with the ministry were self-made. A paranoid lot they are, they usually stayed away from the Ministry and anyone else who could possibly steal their ideas, choosing to start their own small businesses, -some having unlawful work on the side- and spent the rest of their time on research.

Lyra was at a place in her life where she didn't know what would come next. She had very little money in her bank account, so starting a business here only to have to close it down should she return to America, which was seeming more likely with each passing week, didn't make much sense. It looked as if maybe Britain didn't have enough space for her.

A Ministry job out of the question as well as a business of her own, she had no choice but to rely on the Headmaster's kindness. He suggested taking a position as Rita Skeeter's assistant, even going out of his way to provide her with an interview with the woman. She attended and got the job, despite her hopes. She wasn't exactly sure why he wanted her working for a journalist, she'd hoped the Headmaster would put her talents to use -she was trash at writing nonfiction- but, well, it was what it was. Her job didn't involve so much writing as catering to Skeeter's needs, which were so demanding she didn't have time for much else.

She could say without a doubt that she despised Rita Skeeter. She was a lying, two-faced, back-stabbing bitch who'd throw her own mother under the bus just to save her own flawless skin. She also was nit-picky, everything had to be done to a degree of perfection or it would have to be done again. Lyra wasn't foreign to demanding bosses, her Potions Master had been demanding himself, even more so than Skeeter, but it was absolute torture when she didn't have a passion for the subject. Whatever she may be unsure of, she knew with a certainty that her time as a journalist was short-term. They were just so corrupt and Lyra operated on the inner truth that some people's truths are meant to stay hidden. Not so Ravenclaw of her, perhaps, but oh well, one can't represent every trait of their house in all aspects of their life.

She really didn't care if the Minister was having a plausible affair with his secretary or if Madam Malkin had increased her prices by a scandalous 20% out of nowhere. That kind of stuff was better left with Skeeter.

She unlocked her apartment, hoping that she wouldn't find Remus there. Luck was on her side since her brother was nowhere in sight. She sighed in relief and threw her shoes off. "Lyra?"

"Kat. Hey." Her roommate came in view, having nothing on except for a white towel wrapped around her tightly without a care in the world. Lyra wasn't sure how the towel stayed in place. If that were her, it would have fallen off within the first 5 seconds. She casually sauntered towards the fridge, retrieving the milk bottle. Uncapping the carton, she hovered it just over her lips and gulped it down loudly, faster than she can handle since it was dribbling down her chin. Lyra turned away in disgust. Though, she couldn't really complain. At least she wasn't drinking straight out of it as Kat had initially wanted to.

"Where were you last night," Kat asked as if she wasn't all but naked. "I didn't hear you get back, and I got home late."

"I was…" Lyra's cheeks felt hot and, judging by the look on Kat's face, red too. Lyra quickly explained lest Kat get the wrong idea, "My father's ill, and-"

"Oh god, Lyra," the girl didn't waste a second hugging her. "I'm so sorry. Will he be okay?"

Lyra swallowed down tears, determined not to cry, which she was awfully close to doing, "I don't know. It doesn't look so good for him."

"What is it?"

"Cancer. Liver cancer. I was at my Dad's house."

"Oh. You know what you need? A girls' night out!" Lyra didn't really see how a girls' night out could help anything but Kat was jumping up with joy. Lyra feared that her towel would fall off. "I don't think-"

Her efforts were fruitless. Kat's mind was made up, "No, it's perfect! It'll give us a chance to bond and brighten your mood! I'll meet you at 7 PM, sharp." Kat brightly smiled at her and went to her room, presumably to change.

It seemed that Lyra had plans.

"Magdalene." Severus's face pinched in distaste. Of-fucking-course he'd run into her on what should have been a quick trip to the Ministry and out. She smiled slyly as if he wasn't displeased to see her, "Severus! How've you been?"

"Just fine a minute ago," he mumbled under his breath.

"Huh? I didn't catch that."

"I've been well, I said, Magdalene."

"Oh, enough with the 'Magdalene' nonsense. I'd prefer you call me by your little nickname for me…" Her lashes fluttered. Severus's shields were all the way up. He would have fallen for that once. "Baby? But you're not. If you'll excuse me-"

She wasn't deterred. If anything, she looked even more determined. He tried sidestepping her but she blocked him. "It's been a while, Sev-"

"Don't call me that!"

"-Why don't we...catch up?"

"You want to catch up," he snarled, "Or fuck? There's quite a difference."

Still not shaken from his hostility, she actually looked as if she had him right where she wanted him, "Why can't it be both? I have a very vivid evening in mind if you're catching my drift." Her shoulders squeezed together, affecting a certain body part of hers as well. His eyes drifted to her chest area without checking with his brain first. She was dressed in a black robe that accentuated her breasts. Not scandalous, but close to it, exposing just the slightest sliver of skin. They looked bigger than usual. Charms? He didn't detect any magic on her. Probably a push-up bra.

He looked past her, well aware that his attentions on her were nothing but obvious. Fuck him. He couldn't deny his interest in her anymore but that didn't mean that he'd find himself back in her bed. He nodded his head in a formal salutation, finally bypassing her.

He made the usual trail to the Minister's Office feeling slightly anxious, not knowing how Fudge would react to him. It was the first time he'd be delivering his order after revealing his mark at the Dark Lord's resurrection back in June. He had only done so in a last-ditch attempt to reason with him, but it appears that fools don't take well to the use of nous.

He knocked politely on the door, making sure to keep a respectful foot behind the door. It wasn't that the Minister was worthy of his respect, even damn Potter was more worthy of that, but, well, he was the Minister of Magic and could make Severus's life very difficult if he wanted to. Besides, a good spy had intelligence everywhere. Where a better place to start than the Minister's office?

The door swung open to make entrance for Severus. Potions secured in his pocket, he took the seat opposite of Fudge. "Minister," he politely greeted.

"Snape." Fudge's face was filled with distrust, his gaze falling on his left forearm for a second before returning to his face. So he hadn't forgotten.

"Master Snape." Severus was filled with satisfaction at the sight of Fudge looking as if he'd much rather call him anything but that, but he corrected himself all the same. "Do you have the potions?"

An 'Of course, you dunderhead,' was on the tip of his tongue, but he settled for, "How long have we been doing business for, Minister? How many times have I failed to fulfil my side of the deal? Here-" he revealed the potion bottles, turning them back to their real size "-are the potions you requested."

The Minister's brows scrunched in suspicion, "They look small."

Was he trying to put what little patience Severus has to an end? Could he get away with hexing the Minister of Magic? Probably not, unfortunately. "One sip is enough to hear any chosen conversation within a mile radius. I'd advise not taking any more than that, it will not increase the efficiency." It would actually end up poisoning the Minister but Severus left that part out. If he was dunderheaded enough to disregard his advice, he deserved it.

"I see. The money will be transferred by the end of the day."

"Pleasure," Severus got up from his seat, smoothing over the wrinkles in his robes, and left without another glance backwards. Fudge didn't intimidate him at all, unlike the other morons of this place. He glared at passersby who recognized him, clearly wondering what his business at the Ministry was. Not many knew about his work for Fudge, and other departments within the Ministry as well, and Severus was content to keep it that way. It was no one's business and he wasn't all too proud of it anyways.

His annoyance multiplied as he saw Magdalene waiting for him outside the telephone booth. Of course, she'd deny it should he accuse her of just that, claiming that they merely left at the same time. He tried ignoring her but she just wouldn't have it. "So, 7 PM?"

"I am busy, Magdalene," he gritted through his teeth, hating himself for not being able to tell her to shove it up where the sun don't shine. She merely laughed- a high pitched cachinnate that was supposed to be seductive. It wasn't anymore, not to him, but he did remember that it once was. "Nonsense. You can spare an hour of your time for me, can't you?" She pouted at him through batting lashes. He could feel his will start to wane. After all, what would one more time be? It wasn't like it would be the first time he went back to her and...well, one more time wouldn't exactly hurt.

When she looked at him like that, he couldn't really refuse. It took two words on his part for her to squeal, kissing him saucily on the cheek and waving her goodbyes over her shoulder.

Fine, Magdalene.