A/N: Uh, yeah, not much to say other than...I AM SO SORRY!! -falls down on knees- My HP-muse is gone, I'm totally out of the HP fandom, and I can't get out of this damned writer's block! But I won't give up on this story, okay? The updates will just be late. I will finished this damned thing. So there.

I'm going to pick up on the plot some more now, and it's gonna be a little less interaction between Snape and Tonks. I think. We'll see.

So...yeah...happy reading!

Wake Up

Chapter 13: Obsessions

Okay, be brave, you can do this! she thought as she inhaled and tightened her grip of the heavy folder in her hands. She stood by the staircase leading to the basement, where he was, and looked around nervously. No one was in sight, and as she took the first step, she was glad only the walls could see her pathetic climb downwards. Her heart was racing, in fear and anticipation, while her stomach clenched painfully making her breathing short and hard.

Slowly, whatever light there had been upstairs diminished into darkness and as her eyes tried to adjust she stretched out an arm in order to feel her way and avoid tripping. But she was Nymphadora Tonks, and with a startled yelp and a loud thud, she found herself on the floor wincing and cursing at the pain shooting through her still sensitive body.

As she prepared to get up, a door opened and light fell on her; causing her to close her eyes at the sudden brightness.

"Tonks," a smooth voice acknowledged, making her breath hitch as her world seemed to stop for a moment. Blinking, she looked up to see Severus stand leaning on the doorframe, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes as he stared down at her; arms crossed and black cloak falling gracefully over his body. He didn't make a move to help her as she stood up on shaky legs, observing her with disinterest.

"I have the documents here," she said, holding out a slightly crumpled folder as she walked over to him. Her now golden eyes were locked with his, and she seemed both afraid and excited as he reached out to take the papers offered. What he was about to do went against everything that was proper, but it was Albus' orders.

"Come," he ordered, withdrawing into the room and leaving the door open. Tonks stood staring at him dumbly for a second, before she shook her head and entered with a blush. He was already by the other side of the room when she'd closed the door, looking through the vials stored on a large shelf taking up the whole wall.

"I was ordered to give you," he began, pausing to turn around and face his visitor, "this."

A smoothly shaped bottle rested between his index finger and thumb, its red contents shining like blood as the light hit and shattered against the liquid. She took a few steps closer, eyes trained on the sickly beautiful object, and only stopped when she realized there was little space left between herself and the usually fearful Potions Master. Oddly enough, she wasn't frightened. The little proximity this offered, standing less than a foot away, was enough to make her heart flutter as her head seemed to fill up with cotton.

Severus stared at the woman before him, frozen in place as he observed once again how her eyes started to change into a deep colour of amber. She was so close, too close. Reaching out, he roughly grabbed and shoved the vial into her smooth hand – and time stopped. His grip loosened, until it became gentle, but he couldn't remove his hand from hers. Not yet.

"You should be disgusted, you should be angry, you should hate me with a passion; so what is this, Nymphadora Tonks?" he asked in his silky voice, dark eyes locked with hers. His pale skin stood out in all the black hair and fabric, making him seem like someone from an old muggle novel about vampires. She used to read them as a young girl, fascinated by the beautiful way the authors described something so wrong, so dangerous and cruel. His question made her smile slightly; only partly aware of his words when most of her conscious mind was thrilled by the long missed skin to skin contact.

"I've just changed," she began, unsure how to put her feelings into words. This wasn't the atmosphere that made it easier to confess the twisted shape of her heart and love. His dark eyes pierced her, and she was forced to look down before she'd start to tremble. Her gaze landed on their hands, lightly touching, and it helped settle the painful feeling in her stomach.

"Changed?" he snorted. "You are ill, Nymphadora, you have become sick and twisted. Snap out of it; this will not do you any good. You do not want to be near me, understand? I hurt you, I cursed and abused you. I broke you. Are you too stupid to see that all I do is slowly killing you?"

He had never lectured someone like this; he had never felt his heart burn as he tried desperately to make her understand. Self-hatred, a common feeling, corroded his chilly walls and made his eyes glitter dangerously in the dim-lit room.

Tonks stood staring, observing the way his lips were set in a line of frustration and how his eyes mirrored the hate he seemed to harbour. Slowly, his hand left hers and with it, the warmth on her cheeks and skin. Shivering, she shook her head and tried to understand. It only hurt; her head felt dull as she struggled to see why this was happening, why his words didn't affect her the way they should.

"I'm sick and twisted? And whose fault is that?" she whispered, voice shaking. No anger, no hate, was in her words; only a sad confusion. Severus' eyes narrowed, unsure how to handle this strange turn of events. He hadn't expected her to accept it so quickly, to finally come to her right mind with so little of a struggle. Was it a good thing, or a bad?

"Mine," he stated with more effort than it seemed. Her lips turned up in a crooked smile, amber eyes twinkling. He felt his stomach flip, only for less than a second, as he stared into a unfamiliar face. She looked calm, almost cunning, as she reach out for his hand.

"If you made me this way…if you made me this wrong…shouldn't you make me right?" she asked, eyelashes fluttering against her soft cheeks. "Please, Severus?"

He hadn't expected this; he hadn't seen it coming in a million years. His breath hitched as his eyes widened in horror. Albus had made him promise; Albus had known the outcome.

"Oh, and Severus? If she asks you to help her, if she asks you to amend your actions, promise me that you will do so…and in the way she wants you to. Promise me, Severus."

"I…."

"Albus…"

"I…"

"Severus, please."

"Please, make me right."

"I promise, sir."

"How?"

He stared into her eyes, lost and with a feeling of defeat that he loathed and prayed wouldn't show in his dark, glittering orbs. He wouldn't break his promise, he couldn't. And it was his own fault; he was the only one responsible for the way this young woman had turned out. He would do his best to atone for his sins, his mistakes; even though he could never dream of the salvation everyone sought. Her hand tightened around his, their contact spreading warmth he had forgotten existed.

"Help me, stay with me. Severus, you have to hold me."

"FUCK!" the silver-blonde man screamed, pointing his wand at a beautiful vase. It shattered with a violent bang, sending pieces of expensive porcelain flying in every direction. His breathing was fast and hard; chest heaving in an aggravated way. His handsome, sharp face was tainted with a look of dark hatred; his grey eyes wide and close to madness. Shards from the vase had cut his hands lightly as they flew past, buried themselves in his legs and ripped his silky robes open at some places.

"I will KILL HIM!! I am going to make him suffer; I am going to make him beg before my feet! Disgusting, greasy half-blood! He's a traitor! He's a disgrace, a filthy, unworthy, weak little worm!" Another vase shattered, followed by a table and a whole bookshelf. Wood, paper and different kinds of porcelain covered the glossy floor made out of beautiful marble. His anger didn't calm, nothing seemed to be enough until he had someone's warm blood on his hands; dripping down his pale fingers and onto the ground.

"Lucius," a weak voice begged, quivering in fear. The man's head snapped to the side and his burning eyes landed on a thin, elegant woman. Her posture was one of subjection, her eyes as wide as his but filled with fright instead; bright and glittering with tears.

"Lucius, please," she repeated, gulping for air as sobs broke her still form. The man growled, walking over to her with long, fast strides despite his limp. She shrieked as his hand came down to slap her hard. Blonde locks fell across her red cheek covering the trail of tears cooling her hot skin; her head being forced to the side at the impact.

"Don't. Speak, " he hissed through clenched teeth, turning abruptly to walk out of the room. The wounds he'd gotten from his Lord hurt and slowed him down; inflicted upon him for something the half-blood had done, something the half-blood was responsible for.

Entering his office, Lucius Malfoy seemed to calm down. His anger still burned, his hatred still seethed, but his head cooled and he sat down to think things through. He had to return to his Lord's side soon, and it called for a composed state of mind. He was not like Snape, he was not weak. He had nothing making him vulnerable, nothing that softened his sharp features.

A sick smirk graced his lips, pulling at the corners of his mouth in an unnatural way. If the disgusting half-blood of a woman had made Snape soft, as his Lord had realized, he wondered how much she'd affected him. That night, when her screams sounded in his ears, her nails and teeth marked his skin, what had Severus Snape felt? He had been too full of adrenaline, too satisfied, when he'd left to properly observe the darker man's expression. Snape was a hard man to read, impossible even. But Lucius was no fool. A woman's curves, a woman's taste and touch can become addictive. He presumed Snape was drawn to his own kind, his own filth, and the metamorphous was a declivous creature to devour from what he remembered.

Perhaps the reason, perhaps the source of all these new bumps in the road, was that woman?

Severus was, and had always been, a cold man. His feelings might as well not exist, the way he managed to keep them behind his stoic features. For him to snap one of these days was inventible, Lucius mused, and for it to be over a half-blooded, useless witch was highly amusing. The younger man was many things, knew many dark things. Love did not exist in their world, not the fairytale love that seemed to consume do-gooders' pitiful sensibility. Obsession, on the other hand, was common. He could easily picture Snape taking that woman, make her his and mark her in vile ways. He could, because he had done it himself long ago.

With a twisted grin he wondered if the half-blood Prince still suffered from those memories, still remembered how he had joined the Death Eaters and received his mark. It had been the first time, but hopefully not the last, that tears had rolled down those pale cheeks.

I'll put that look on your face again, Severus, he thought as he leaned back in his chair. I'll make you remember obsession.

A/N: Yeah, some of the past came in there. For those who freaked don't worry, it's not slash. Anyway, now I have pinned Snape down and he won't be bale to escape from out lovely Tonks -evil grin-

I hope the chapter didn't disappoint you too much! Again, so sorry for being such a terribly bad author...-sighs- Review? Please?