A/N: Just to clarify that in this fic Snape is half-blood like in canon but Róisín has presumed he's pureblood.

This chapter is explicit, arguably gratuitously so, just in case you'd prefer to skip it. For everyone else, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 31: The Dark Mark

Róisín's disembodied hand knocked on Snape's office door, a giddiness making her raps more bouncy and playful than she'd intended, then retreated into the silky fabric of the invisibility cloak. She pictured Snape's lean torso above her and bit the inside of her cheek.

Unbidden, memories of last time popped into her head; him grabbing the hand off his chest and pinning it to the bed as he thrust into her, the way he had said "goodnight" in a tone that meant "get out."

The door swung open. Her professor stood in the doorway, the magic of the cloak making the hard edges of his tall form appear to shimmer. His eyes found Róisín after a second, as though he had located her through the sound of her fluttering heart. He stood aside for her to enter.

"It's early," he stated.

Róisín's heart dropped. She had paced her bedroom, casting tempus charm after tempus charm and wondering if it would seem too eager if she came before eight, but since she was too nervous to concentrate on anything else she had decided to head down.

"Oh, sorry," she said as she stepped inside and pulled off the cloak. She ran a hand through her tousled hair. "It's just em, I figured I'd finish your essay on the properties of vampire blood after because, em, we're not allowed bring books from the restricted section outside of Hogwarts and I need-"

"-Feral, it was just an observation."

Snape took the seat behind his desk and Róisín sat facing him. He took a leather notebook out of his desk drawer and slid it to her.

"I've charmed this journal so only you and I can see what's written in it," Snape explained. "Every evening you are to use it to record the symptoms you experienced throughout the day. Namely anything unusual that you think may be related to the issues that arise when your magic is unsettled by your hormones."

Róisín inwardly squirmed as she thought of the issues; random bursts of magic, painful periods, uncontrollable lust…..

"What is this for sir?"

"I require more knowledge if I am to understand how to protect you long term."

Her heart skipped a beat.

Protect you long term

"So you are going to read what I write?" she asked.

"Yes." His clipped tone implied that was obvious. "Remember to take it with you when you leave." He stood up and opened the cupboard door leading to his chambers. Róisín took a deep breath and walked into the passageway.

Salazar's chambers were chilly. Róisín wrapped her arms tight around herself and startled when a spark shot out from Snape's wand behind her, lighting the fireplace with a woosh.

The glow of the flames danced across her professor's pale face. Soft crackles and pops decorated the silence.

He raised his eyebrows at her and Róisín realised she'd been staring. She walked around to the far side of the bed and took off her hoodie, careful her t-shirt didn't rise up with it.

"Is there something on your mind?" Snape asked her, unbuttoning his jacket with deft fingers.

Her eyes met his and memories flashed into view; Snape thrusting so deep inside her it felt like a punch in the stomach, his hard chest unyielding against her palm, the twinge in her wrist when he grabbed it and the anger in his eyes as he slammed the door-

Róisín shook her head violently, squeezing her eyes shut and grabbing a post of the bed to steady herself. Angry and afraid, she grit her teeth and looked up at her professor. He had a wider stance than before, as though he too had braced for an impact, and his hand rubbed at his temples. He narrowed his eyes as he met her glowering ones.

"Your magic forced those memories on me, Feral," Snape stated smoothly, "I assuredly did not use legilimency." Róisín pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, her emotions threatening to leak out of them. "I apologise for frightening you last time," Snape's voice was so low it was hard to catch his words, "I was rough and inconsiderate."

"I thought you were angry at me," Róisín said, her voice tight.

"Why would I've been?" he asked, an exasperated edge to his voice.

"I dunno," Róisín mumbled, thinking about her hand pushing against his hard chest.

Snape said nothing and continued to undress. Instead of kicking off her shoes, Róisín crouched down to untie her laces so that she could hide behind the bed and digest his words.

Rough and inconsiderate.

She stuffed her socks into her shoes and pulled down her jeans. Feeling the chill of the dungeons on her exposed legs, she slipped beneath the cool covers on the bed and shivered as she sat up against the velvet headboard. She glanced at Snape.

He was shirtless with his back to her, undoing his trousers. Róisín dragged her eyes along the lines of lean muscle that defined his long torso, and wondered about the few silvery raised scars which stood out even whiter than his alabaster skin.

He turned and Róisín whipped her eyes up from his narrow hips, then flicked her gaze from his unreadable expression to the fireplace, frustrated at herself for being caught ogling him.

He got into the bed wearing only his boxers, the heat radiating from his naked skin, and suddenly Róisín was swimming in his foreign scent. It was masculine and intimidating and it reminded her body of the things he could do to her and had done to her. Her chest squeezed with excitement that she worried might burst from her in an embarrassing squeak.

He reached over and placed a large warm hand on her hip, sending a jolt of nerves up her body and making her flinch. He cleared his throat at her reaction and asked, "You ok?", his eyebrows raised with such casual concern that it was like being in bed with an entirely different man and not her surly professor. His hand rubbed over her hip-bone lightly, touching her like she'd imagine he would pet a nervous terrier.

Róisín swallowed and nodded her head.

He lifted her slightly to bring her closer to him and she acquiesced, raising her hips and scooching nearer, sliding against him where the mattress dipped towards his heavier body. She swallowed again, eyes glued to the lines of muscles on the side of his torso, which dipped where they met the row of abs at his centre. Starting at his belly button black hair lightly covered him and thickened as it disappeared beneath his boxers.

His muscles rippled as he slid his hand down over her hip, spreading his fingers to cover the top of her thigh and gripping her gently. Róisín quivered when his thumb dipped under the fabric of her underwear between her legs and her heart did a little lurch as she thought he would remove them. Instead, his hand moved slowly to cup her over the thin cotton and pressed her labia gently. She stretched her neck so that her head lent into the pillow in a vain attempt to control her reaction to the deep warmth spreading between her legs.

He continued massaging her there and the idea of her professor touching her with such deliberation was intoxicating. She stole a glance at him. He was watching his own hand's ministrations on her, his lower jaw jutting forward slightly with tension that Roisin realised in a sexy rush was arousal. His gaze flicked to her face. Roisin bit her lip to stop a whimper escaping and glanced down from his dark eyes. His forearm flexed with his hand movements and the tendons in his large hand were taut. He slid his hand up to the waistband of her underwear stretched over her hip and his eyes caught hers, his eyebrows raised to request permission. Róisín gave a tiny nod. In one smooth motion, he slipped two fingers under the cotton band and slid his hand behind her and downwards, his warm fingers brushing against her buttocks as he pulled the garment down. Róisín used her foot to drag her underwear off her completely.

The sudden warmth of his hand as he covered her naked labia made Róisín's breath catch. She could feel she was already wet. He stroked down across her slick folds and back up to her clit repeatedly, just barely dipping one finger inside her, the movement agonisingly slow and deliberate. A tiny whimper escaped her lips and Snape's dark eyes snapped to her face. Her legs buckled slightly and then stretched out on their own accord.

Finally, he began to slip his finger inside her, again and again, a little deeper each time, the heel of his palm rubbing against her clit with each movement. Róisín had an urge to grasp his arm or torso to anchor herself against the throbbing pleasure. Instead, she gripped the bedsheets.

He pushed his finger in past the second knuckle, and she winced at the stingy, stretchy sensation. He started to curl his finger against her front walls and the sting was replaced with a deep satisfying ache. The cool dungeon air flowed over Róisíns top half as he sat up on his knees and the bedclothes gathered at his hips, the ache never letting up as his finger continued its movement. He raised his palm and replaced its motion on her clit with the fingers of his other hand, rubbing gentle circles while still using a beckoning motion with his finger inside her. His eyes searched her face and Róisín knew her expressions must be telling him things she never consented for him to know; like how vulnerable she felt. Or how she'd never been able to make herself feel this way, so intense and tender like she existed only on a knife's edge between agony and pleasure.

Or how right now she would do anything he asked her to.

She felt the delicious pressure building, her arms and legs straining painfully with anticipation, and she knew that if the movement of his hands sped up the sensation inside her would shatter into a bazillion exquisite pieces, but she swallowed a moan of frustration as he maintained the same rhythm. Then, maybe after seeing her face tightened in desperation or her body squirm with jerky tension, he rubbed her faster and firmer and curled the finger inside her more rapidly and roughly and Róisín was so overcome with sensation she abruptly thought she might wet herself. She looked at him pleadingly and his touch turned even more vigorous, his dark eyes boring into her, causing the sweet ache to spike inside her, and Róisín, not able to find her voice, gave a sharp, hasty shake of her head, part of her begging him to stop and another part hoping he would ignore her and go even harder, pushing her over the brink.

He stopped.

His naked chest rose and fell as he breathed hard in and out of his nose. Róisín's own panting was loud in the stillness of the room.

Snape's two hands were still on her, his finger still inside her. She tore her eyes away from his and glanced down. His erection was straining against his boxers.

She couldn't stop a small "ah!" escaping her as he took his finger out of her. He gripped her hip gently, and she felt her wetness on his finger against her hip bone. She knew she was being silly, and had no reason to apologise, but she couldn't stop herself from blurting out,

"I'm sorry, sir." Feeling intensely vulnerable, her hands flew to hide her face.

"Don't."

Snape's hands grasped her wrists firmly and brought them back down to her sides. His wide shoulders and long arms looked lean and strong as they held her in place and a panicked thrill shot through her. Suddenly, he released her wrists and held his palms up forwards, as though he'd realised the dominating way he had pinned her down and wanted to signal he'd meant nothing aggressive by it.

"Ok, I'll stop now," he said placatingly, his voice strangely laboured. He readjusted his erection so that it lay up against his body and wasn't jutting towards her. "If you want me to. Is that what you want?"

"I'm ok." Róisín breathed.

"That's not what I asked you."

"No, sir." She whispered, even quieter than before. Not knowing whether she was telling the truth or not.

Snape snorted and drawled,

"That's hardly the enthusiastic consent I'm looking for."

Róisín felt a warm swooping sensation at his words and suddenly wanted to kiss him deeply.

"Please sir," she whimpered. He raised his eyebrow at her,

"Don't call me that," he said a little sternly, but a corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk. "Please what?" he asked, both of his eyebrows raised as if he had no idea what she was asking of him and Róisín realised with a sexy rush that he was teasing her.

She bit her lip, thinking that it wasn't fair that he was asking her to express something so intimate when her head felt all mushy and tender.

Snape's expression changed from cocky to earnest as he seemed to come to the same conclusion and asked her plainly,

"Would you like to have sex now?"

Róisín blushed deeply and gave a few little, enthusiastic nods.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

He slipped his fingers beneath his waistband and slid off his briefs, watching her as if curious to see whether she would dare look at him but she averted her eyes upwards, worried somehow that if she saw his erection she might get nervous and change her mind. She smelt coconut as she stared at the silks covering the four-posted bed and realised that he was using coconut oil again even though she was dripping wet.

He moved so that his hips were between her thighs.

Then he pushed himself inside her.

Slowly.

She started breathing heavily. He felt so warm. Her bra clasp was digging into her back against the bed and she was gripped by a desire to be shirtless beneath him. Completely naked. Her pelvic muscles clenched at the thought. He had been looking between them, guiding himself with one hand while the other supported his weight, but now he stilled and his dark eyes caught hers. He had felt it.

"Are you ok?" he asked softly, eyes locked on hers, and her pelvic muscles squeezed tightly again at the sound of his voice. He inhaled sharply at the sensation, but did not break his gaze, and Róisín could not look away, like a hare pinned down by a fox.

Snape raised his eyebrows at her body's reaction. He seemed high above her, holding himself up with his extended right arm, his forearm and bicep tensed with the effort and the dim light making strange dark patterns on the pale skin of his arm. Now he shifted, dropping his weight so that he was resting with both of his forearms on either side of her. He was so much broader than her that he could hover a hair's breadth from her, their skin not touching except for the inch of him inside her and the outside of his thighs against the inside of hers. His body radiated heat.

"Are you ok?" he repeated in a low, smooth voice. Out of her control, her muscles gripped him again, so tightly it hurt a little. His body tensed. A heat blossomed across her cheeks. She didn't reply, but she was breathing as if she'd run for miles.

"Should I stop?" His breath was warm. Róisín shook her head hastily. Snape slowly leaned upwards away from her. Róisín could see each ridge of his lean abdomen muscles tighten with the effort. Then, even slower than before, he began pushing further inside. Róisín felt her opening sting in protest at being stretched and she dug her nails into the sheets. Snape's lank raven hair sucked up every drop of light it touched, throwing half of his face in shadow. His jaw tensed as he thrusted deeper inside her.

It was so intense. Róisín bit her lip to stop herself from panting. The sensation felt bizarre and new, even though this was her third time. She couldn't decide whether it was the most horrible feeling or the most incredible.

Snape began to pull out and Róisín inhaled sharply through her teeth at the change. He moved slowly in, then out. She turned her face so that her hot, sticky cheek rested against the cool bed sheets, her thoughts sloshing around her head like soup. She focused on Snape's tensed forearm, his blue veins slithering up his pallid arm like… A fuzzy serpent was slinking towards her. It stuck out a wriggly tongue and hissed.

Weird. Róisín squinted her eyes to dispel the daydream.

Then he thrust again, deeper and faster than before. A sharp whimper of surprise. Hers. Róisín clamped her jaw shut, mortified. That felt so good.

He stilled at the sound. His eyes were shut, strained as if preparing for a bandage to be ripped off. Their quick, shallow breaths were cacophonous in the stillness of the room.

"Sorr-"

"-Don't." He cut her off and opened his eyes to meet hers. The eye contact felt even more intimate than their lower bodies locked together. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, sorry, I didn't mean, I mean-"

"-Róisín, your deathly silence is unnerving." His rich voice rolled down her body and she bit her lip in response, barely processing his words. He's still so deep inside me. "Stop straining to stay as quiet as a bowtruckle."

"Ok," Róisín breathed, still chewing her lip. I wish he'd move like that again. "Em, s-" She stopped herself before she used the honorific, "Could you..." She shifted beneath him.

"Are you in pain?"

Róisín swallowed.

"It's stingy but it felt…" God she wanted to dive under the covers and hide from his piercing black eyes.

But at the same time she wanted them to swallow her whole.

"-Do you want me to stop?"

No. No, please don't stop. Please do it again.

"No please. It felt," she continued, hesitating, panting, "please...don't stop."

He stared at her, eyelids heavy and mouth tensed, still as if he'd been carved from marble. Then he dragged his eyes down her body, inch by inch,and when his gaze reached the swell of her hips, the pale skin visible where her t-shirt ended, he grabbed her right hip firmly, his thumb gripping into the flesh beside her hip bone with a pressure just adjacent to pain. Then, abruptly, he moved his other hand underneath to grip her buttocks and angled her pelvis upwards, so his erection pressed hard against a sweet, agonising place inside her. Róisín gasped.

Finally, he began moving again, the same rough, jerky movement that elicited Róisín's first whimper. With each thrust her insides coiled tighter, as if she were a mechanical toy he was winding up.

Then something caught her eye. Her breath caught.

The Dark Mark.

The hollow eyes of the skull were staring at her from Snape's left forearm, a snake protruding from its mouth, twisting down the arm that was holding her hips against the mattress while he thrusted into her, the black ink more sinister than any muggle gang tattoo she'd ever seen. The exciting tension in her body evaporated, an icy dread freezing her in place.

Snape continued for one, two strokes and stopped. He opened his eyes and they darted to where she was staring in horror. His face flashed with anger. Slowly, still inside her, and the arm with the black mark still pinning her in place, he removed his other hand from her and reached towards the bed stand, his eyes never leaving her. His wand. Panic sucking the air from her lungs, Róisín shoved at his midriff, trying desperately to dislodge him from her, but he did not budge, solid like rock and unaffected by her blows. She kicked wildly and tried to twist away, to pull her hips from where she was impaled by him. He's going to kill me. Suddenly, he pulled away from her like he'd been burnt, his wand in his hand.

Róisín fought the sheets that had tangled themselves around her limbs and stumbled down from the bed, knocking her elbows and shins on the stone floor. Snape watched her escape, kneeling on the bed, naked and ghostly white except for his raven hair, his body tensed. Róisín scrambled to her feet and backed herself against the wall. Wand. She flung her eyes around the room, her messy hair obscuring her vision. Her neck creaked painfully from the erratic movement.

"Accio-"

Her wand soared across the room into Snape's open grasp before Róisín could finish the incantation. His non-verbal had been too quick. Magically mature and pumped up on sióg sex. Róisín's mind spat at her.

The Death Eater got off the bed and stepped towards her.

Róisín shivered as she slid down the wall, her eyes bulging with fear and glued to the naked man approaching her, her hands covering her exposed privates.

"Please…" Her lips quivered. "Don't..."

Only those within His inner circle are marked.

The wizard flicked his wand to make his trousers and Róisín's underwear reappear, but the feeling of cotton covering her did little to relieve her paralysing fear.

I have no wand. He has his.

Róisín brought her knees to her chest and her hands to her face as if he were going to hit her.

"Miss Feral, you need to relax," the Death Eater ordered in a slow, steady voice, as if English were not her mother tongue. "I'm not going to hurt you."

He's lying

A pathetic, whimpering sound was leaking from Róisín. All the horrific Death Eater stories she had heard came to her in graphic detail, masked men in long black robes skinning and burning muggles alive, raping them, hanging them, strangling them- It felt like she was shrivelling into nothing.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the Death Eater repeated.

Róisín's eyes darted to his stern gaze before she hid behind her hands again. The muscles in her chest were screaming at her in frozen horror, her lungs pounding with excruciating panic. She was rocking back and forth frantically.

He's lying.

"I'm not lying."

Róisín flinched. She shut her eyes tight to protect her thoughts.

"I'm a spy for the headmaster," the Death Eater continued.

He never wanted to help you. He wants to use you.

She heard bare footsteps on the stone floor and shrieked,

"Get away from me!"

He stilled.

"We will go find the headmaster, he can explain."

"No! Don't! Don't take me to Him!" Voldemort. The unspoken name echoed through the room.

"I would never."

"You're lying!"

"Róisín, I have kept you hidden from Him all this time." The Death Eater lowered his wand. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm going to bring you to Dumbledore so that he can explain-."

Róisín shook her head against his words and clutched at her knees, her nails digging into her skin. The dust motes floating in the air around her caught fire.

The dark wizard sighed and stated,

"Petrificus Totalus"

The panic burst out of Róisín's chest as there was a roaring whoosh of air and she felt every muscle in her body cramp all over. For an instant, the room was brightly lit by flames leaping from the fireplace, as if escaping from hell. Then, just as abruptly, the fire returned to smoking embers, and dimness smothered the room again. Every inch of Róisín screamed in paralyzed fear. Only her eyes remained free, bloodshot and swollen from her tears.

Snape lifted his wand again.

A silvery mist began to stream from Róisín's centre, around and between her knees locked against her chest. The mist pooled in front of her and grew, solidifying into a huge beast.

The creature had antlers that stretched across the room like the giant wings of a hippogriff, their spines grotesque talons curving upwards. It rubbed a hoof against the ground, staring down at the professor from a height that would dwarf Hagrid.

Róisín felt a spark of hope and pride as she gazed up at her fully-formed patronus for the first time. Still immobilised by Snape's spell, her eyes, full of defiance, looked up at him.

Her professor turned and his own pearly mist flowed from his wand, his patronus sprinting out of the room still vague and half-formed.

He brought his wand down his front with a twirl and his black teaching regalia appeared out of thin air and wrapped elegantly onto his body. He turned back to the shimmering beast and Róisín, still curled-up on the ground, and he flicked his wand towards her. Striped pyjama bottoms popped onto her bare legs. He watched her patronus closely with narrowed eyes.

Then he slowly placed his wand on the floor, and flicked Róisín's so that it landed in front of her.

"You are safe, Róisín," her given name sounded strange and foreign on his lips, "Your patronus will protect you. When I release you from the body-bind, you are to remain still and calm, understood?"

Róisín was still paralyzed, and definitely didn't trust Snape, the death eater, but she tried to give him a look with her eyes that conveyed she understood.

"Finite incantatem"

With a strained rasp Róisín's lungs inhaled a huge gulp of air and her gasps turned into sobs that wracked her upper body. A tiny voice in the back of her head was reasoning that if Snape were an actual, committed Death Eater, he would've had plenty of opportunities to kidnap her and take her to He-who-must-not-be-named by now.

Unless Snape wanted to use you first, another part of her argued.

He hadn't been rough with her, she told herself desperately, and it did make sense that Dumbledore and this mysterious "Order" needed to spy on You-Know-Who, but to make someone actually take the Dark Mark to infiltrate his ranks seemed extreme to say the least.

Her patronus was fading away. Róisín didn't understand how she had conjured it, or even exactly what monstrous animal it was, but apparently her magic had decided she didn't need its protection anymore. Or maybe she was too depleted to maintain it.

Róisín clambered to her feet at the sound of the fire whooshing and turned to see Professor Dumbledore standing amongst green flames in the hearth.

"That chimney's not supposed to be connected to the castle floo," Snape growled at the tall, colourful figure.

"Good evening to you too, Professor, ah and Miss Feral. Lovely to see you!" Dumbledore greeted. Róisín hastily rubbed her teary eyes and glanced between Snape and the headmaster. "I hear you've discovered your Potion Master's crucial role in the resistance! Unfortunate that the glamour failed when it did, it must be said, but I suppose even our formidable Slytherin Head can be… distracted and slip up, given the right conditions."

Snape shot the Headmaster a withering look.

Róisín didn't say anything. She knew Dumbledore was You-Know-Who's biggest enemy, and she trusted him, and now there was a growing realisation twisting her gut that she had freaked out over nothing. Snape had said he was in the Order. It made sense that he was a spy. He certainly looked the part of a Death Eater and being Head of Slytherin meant that he had access to the upper echelons of pureblood society. Róisín hung her head in her hands.

"Oh Gods, I'm sorry," she said to her palms, "I just got such a bad fright." Her words were such a bizarre understatement for the terror she had just experienced; believing she was trapped in the hands of a sadistic death cult enthusiast, that she almost snorted and instead started crying again with relief.

"A perfectly understandable reaction, Miss Feral," the Headmaster said kindly. "Do you feel alright now?"

Róisín wiped the tears and snot off her face with her sleeve and nodded eagerly, desperate for the attention to be taken away from her.

"Perhaps Professor Snape will fetch you a calming draught and accompany you to your dormitory," Dumbledore suggested while glancing at Snape over his half-moon glasses. "Goodnight Miss Feral, Severus,"

Snape dipped his chin at the Headmaster's salute, and Dumbledore left through the chimney again.

Róisín groaned into her hands and sat back down on the floor.

"I'll bring you some potions," Snape said, sounding uncharacteristically tired.

"Honestly, sir, don't, it's fine. I'm fine now. I'm so sorry for freaking the fuck out." Róisín hesitated, waiting for him to reprimand her language but he said nothing. "I can't believe you had to call the Headmaster to calm me down." Róisín moaned in embarrassment.

"Feral, you're traumatised. You need an elixir," Snape said sternly.

"I'm fine, I-" Róisín was overcome with such a rush of soothing relief that she felt almost giddy, "I'm- I'm ok with, you know, finishing what we were doing. I'm sorry I freaked out on you sir, I know you must be insulted to think I thought you were actually… you know…" she trailed off.

Snape had muttered under his breath while she was talking and now three vials sailed into the room. Her professor caught them deftly while extending his other arm to grab his cloak which had flown towards him from his armoire. He flicked his wand at Róisín and her shoes and socks materialised on her feet. She sighed with disappointment at the realisation that Snape clearly had no intention of continuing with what they were doing, and she also felt ashamed that she so obviously wanted to.

"It's not a good idea, Feral," Snape stated in a tone that would entertain no disagreement. "You feel relief now but the incident is going to replay itself in your mind." He sighed and added, "You were terrified."

Róisín looked down at her feet, feeling small and exposed.

"Hey," Snape admonished gently, and Róisín looked up at him in mild surprise at the uncharacteristic warmth in his tone. "Your reaction was appropriate given the circumstances."

"I honestly feel fine-"

"Leave it, Feral," Snape snapped. "I'm not touching you again tonight."

Róisín winced at his change of tone and thought of the angry look on his face when he'd realised she'd seen the mark. She went to grab her hoodie on the far side of the bed.

As they left through his office Snape grabbed the notebook he wanted her to write her symptoms in and Róisín threw on the invisibility cloak she had left there. They took a long, circuitous way back to Ravenclaw tower as it was only late evening and some older students were still roaming the corridors. In a small side corridor near her House's tower Snape stopped and gave a brief scan of their surroundings. Then he turned to her.

"Take off the cloak for a moment," he instructed and Róisín obeyed. He handed her the notebook and the three vials, two luminous and one milky. "Two different kinds of calming draught-"

"-Mikula's brew and Hajduk's broth; Mikula's for fear of er… physical violence, and Hajduk's for social anxiety," she supplied, happy that she had recognized the colours. Snape's eyes flicked over her face for a moment before he replied,

"Correct. The third is dreamless sleep. Take them all before you sleep tonight."

"Yes, sir," Róisín said, hesitating a little as she imagined all three brews sloshing around her stomach.

"You will receive an owl late on Sunday when I am available to apparate you to Headquarters."

Róisín felt a twinge of regret.

"So em, we won't… try again, before I leave?"

Snape gave a glance around to make sure they were still alone, sighed and said,

"I'm not in a position to meet you beforehand, no." His eyebrow raised at the look on her face and he added, the corner of his mouth flicking upwards, "my apologies."

"Oh, no problem," Róisín hastily replied, trying to hide the disappointment apparently evident on her face. "I feel fine now anyway so…"

"Goodnight, Feral."

"Goodnight, sir."

He left the way they had come.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading and please leave a review if get the chance!