All's Fair; Chapter Three

Summary: Somehow surviving the last battle hasn't changed Severus Snape one bit. Now, seven years later, can the arrival of a new Charms teacher with a gift for smoothing over rough edges break down the walls he's built around his heart? SS/OC.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the storyline and Danielle Prince.

Warning: This chapter rated M

Word Count: 3235

By the time the first of September rolled around, I was well and truly prepared for the coming year and well and truly terrified of having to teach an actual class of actual people. I spent the entirety of the day fidgeting with just about anything that came within reach and I found myself unable to settle down to read anything. I had gone on a two hour jog around the lake after breakfast and paced the corridors endlessly after lunch. When I explained to Neville later what I'd been doing all day, he laughed and said that he'd spent the majority of this day last year with his head in the toilet. I couldn't decide whether this was encouraging or not.

I was called to the Great Hall along with all the other teachers for a quick debriefing for the new year and became slightly braver as several of my colleagues wished me good luck. When the first of the students started trailing into the hall, however, I felt my bravado slip slightly. Neville, bless him, tried his best to distract me by talking about an old acquaintance of his who was apparently getting married over the Christmas holidays. He seemed to realise that I wasn't taking a word in, however, and soon stopped talking.

Then the doors burst open and I found myself, for the first time in my life, watching the Sorting ceremony. If I had been subjected to that when I was eleven years old I probably would have died on the spot. I silently thanked the heavens my parents had let me go to the local school. Maybe it didn't quite have the same spectacular glamour or such a good line up of teachers, but it was so small having a house system would have been pointless.

Eventually the sixty or so first years had settled down into their new houses and Minerva gave a speech. She welcomed them back and ran over the general rules of where they could and couldn't go, before – horror of horrors – introducing me to the school. Thankfully she only introduced me and didn't make me stand up and give some kind of obscene speech. I smiled rather nervously as every single pair of eyes in the school turned towards me. Then, thankfully, everyone was distracted by the sudden appearance of food. I hastily dug in, shooting a sideways glance at Neville who shot me a thumbs up; I mouthed a thanks back before joining the conversation of the people either side of me.

I stayed at the staff table until all of the students had left the Great Hall after dinner, simply to avoid them. Cowardly, I know, but it seemed that the majority of the other teachers did the same. Minerva said one last 'good luck' and left, followed quickly by everyone else. Or, at least, I thought everyone else. Seeing the last of the flowing cloaks sweep out of the room I allowed myself a moment of desperation. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and leant forward to bump my forehead gently against the table, giving out a little moan.

'I am sure,' a scathing voice announced from in front of me, 'that your current actions are not going to be entirely beneficial.'

I contemplated this for a moment and raised my head slowly, resting my chin on the table and glaring up at the vaguely amused Potions Master. I finally settled for, 'I know it doesn't help, but it sure as hell makes me feel better.'

'Although I am sure that you consume more alcohol than is really healthy, I was going to ask you to join me for a glass tonight,' Severus said.

I blinked. Well. That was entirely unexpected. I sat up straight and grinned. 'Are you still going to ask me, or not?' I hesitated to ask – how many guesses that the offer no longer stood?

'I believe my previous statement made it clear that you may join me if you wish.'

I jumped up, scraping my chair noisily against the stonework, making Severus wince. I smiled and made my way around the table to join him. 'Wait… a glass of what exactly?'

To my surprise, he smirked. 'Nothing deadly,' he assured me. I raised a single questioning eyebrow in a perfect imitation of him, but he offered no explanation and merely opened the door to allow me through. It probably would have been astute for me at this point to refuse and head back to my rooms, but curiosity killed the cat, and it was certainly killing me.

The journey down to the dungeons didn't, in reality, take long, but time seemed to stretch on interminably due to the awkward silence that had descended upon us. Eventually Severus led me to a small, nondescript statue of a snake-like dragon and muttered a password at it under his breath. It slid into motion and revealed another set of steps heading down. Once again Severus stepped aside to let me through, and although I had been initially flattered by this chivalry, it was starting to get on my nerves. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs the corridor opened up into a well lit room which was obviously the main area of Severus' private rooms.

'Please make yourself comfortable. I must go to the Slytherin dormitories to check whether the students are settling down or not,' he said, waving a hand in the vague direction of a sofa before sweeping back up the stairs. I moved to sit down, but as soon as he was gone I once again felt a wave of unsurpassable curiosity crash over me. It took me mere moments to realise that his rooms were on the same layout as mine. Although the largest room in the complex caught my attention, what I really wanted to see was Severus' bedroom. Most people express themselves the most in areas or things that will be kept private and bedrooms are the most private. I poked my head around the door in the hope that the room would reveal something exciting and unusual… but no. There was nothing personalised about this room at all.

For fear of having my head removed from my body if Severus found me poking around his quarters I quietly shut the door and sat down on the sofa, my mind buzzing with questions. Severus lived in these rooms as though he was living in a hotel. Obviously he must have his own house somewhere else, but since teaching took up so much of the year, surely he would feel more comfortable if he could make these rooms… well… his own. There was nothing here at all that might tell a little of whom Severus really was. It was as though at Hogwarts he was no longer a person, he was merely The Potions Master. An object.

'What now?' His smooth tones interrupted my flow of thoughts.

I jumped, not realising he had returned. 'Excuse me?'

'You looked worried.'

'Oh. I was just, um, thinking,' I covered hastily – and badly.

'Thinking,' he repeated in a tone that suggested that 'thinking' was not something I should do on a regular basis, if a simple question threw me so much.

'Right,' was my only answer, trying to recover the situation and failing.

Severus turned quickly away from me but I still saw the smirk that stole across his features before he hid it from me. His slender fingers stretched up to a mounted cabinet and he pulled from it two brandy glasses and a half full bottle. When he turned back to me his face was once again an emotionless mask, his obsidian eyes not revealing a tad of the amusement in them. He set the glasses down on the table in front of the sofa and settled down next to me. I watched the golden coloured liquor flow evenly from the bottle he held and swirl around in the bottom of the glass as if it was in slow motion. I shook my head and the feeling was gone.

'Are you sure you're feeling alright, Ms Prince?' he asked when he saw the movement.

'Hmm,' I murmured. 'Slight headache coming on, I think. That's all.'

He passed me a glass and I received it with a smile that I hoped was at least passable as genuine. Neither of us spoke again for a long minute, but the silence that hung in the air between us was slightly less awkward this time. I raised the glass to my lips and took a tiny sip of the liquid. Then I promptly spat it out again.

'Eurgh!' I squealed in distaste, practically dropping the glass back onto the table. 'That stuff is disgusting!'

He surprised me again then. He chuckled lightly and took a sip from his own glass, eyes closing in what must have been appreciation – though I couldn't understand it. 'It is certainly an… acquired taste,' he said, still smirking over the rim of his glass.

'Well don't mind me if I don't take the time to acquire that particular taste,' I said stuffily, sticking my tongue out and screwing my eyes up like a young child being forced to eat vegetables.

'Not at all. There's a range of other liquors in the cabinet if you want something else,' he offered, ignoring my childishness.

I shook my head. 'After having that I'm sure I can live without,' I assured him. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly and I tried my best not to feel hurt at his inaccurate assumption that I was an alcoholic. Sure I liked the odd beer and had something pretty much everyday, didn't mean I was addicted to the stuff. I felt the urge to stick my tongue out again, but wanted to leave the room with some of my pride still in tact. I stared into the fire for a moment before looking up into his dark gaze.

Under his penetrating surveillance I felt as though he was sending me some kind of subliminal message that I could almost grab hold of – but not quite. I looked back steadily. The silence thickened and although I couldn't understand it, it gave me comfort. I smiled slowly, confidently, allowing the muscles of my mouth pull up one side of my mouth and gradually sliding across my face until I was smiling fully at him. I stretched forward with one hand and took the half full glass from his unresisting fingers and set it down on the table. His eyes – unreadable, emotionless – watched my every movement and blinked slowly at me as I relaxed back against the sofa. He moved towards me until his face was barely centimetres from mine. He paused, checking.

My smile slipped and my eyes closed. My mouth opened very slightly and I breathed out across his lips; but still he didn't move. Even with my eyes shut I could sense he was there right next to me, waiting.

'One night,' he said. So that's what he was waiting for.

I smirked and opened my eyes; slowly, deliberately placing the cool fingers of one hand on his forehead and trailing them down the side of his face, under his chin, down his neck, over his breast bone, over his torso, tickling his ribs, down his waist, onto his thigh and there – there I let my hand rest. 'One night,' I repeated, unblinking; honest. 'No strings attached.'

Once again he raised one eyebrow in a speculative, entirely-Severus manner.

I leant forward, past his face so that my lips rested by his ear. 'I promise,' I breathed. I saw my breath stir his hair and felt as the tremor went through him, my palm feeling very warm over his tensing thigh muscles.

'What about tomorrow when you can't even look at me?' he murmured back, the sneer in his tone even more menacing at such a low volume.

I chuckled darkly, leaning back again to look at him directly in the eyes. 'You underestimate me, Severus.'

There was another moment of silence before his lips descended on mine – finally. The sour taste of the strange liquor remained on his mouth, but it was sweeter now, mixed with his and my own saliva. I licked his lips and smiled under him as he moaned and opened his mouth to me. I explored his mouth, his teeth, his tongue carefully, passionately, wanting to remember every single moment because – as we both knew – it was only tonight. Why we had set ourselves that limit, I'm not sure. But it made things more exciting, dramatic, knowing that after tonight we'd see each other everyday and not mention this ever again – it gave an edge to the sexual tension that scared and aroused me in one smooth stroke.

His arms were on either side of my shoulders, his body pressing mine into the comfort of the sofa – when had we gone horizontal? My addled brain suddenly became unaware of nothing other than him – his touch, his mouth, his tongue, his hands, his hips. As I tried to remove the ridiculous cloak of his we ended up rolling off the sofa and smashing the table, the remaining alcohol in his glass spilling and staining our clothing.

'Stupid girl. Do you know how much that cost?' he said, drawing back from me for a moment.

'Do I care?' I questioned him, my eyes rolling at the absurdity of it all.

His nimble fingers were attacking my buttons and his lips lowered to my neck and my eyes rolled for a whole other reason. I felt the need to laugh suddenly well up inside, but choked on it as his oh-so-skilled fingers found their way up and under my bra. I hissed in appreciation, my back arching up in an involuntary movement to get more of him. Slowly each piece of our clothing was discarded and our hands explored each other's bodies, causing an interesting array of noises from both of us. Then, when we were naked, he took me hard and unrelenting against the thinly carpeted floor. I felt a wave of… something… build up inside me and it washed over us as I groaned out his name in one long hiss. I expected him to smirk down at me, but although there was some kind of emotion in his eyes, it wasn't contempt.

His eyes were the darkest that I ever saw them when, with one last thrust, he came to me. His dulcet tones gave me a nickname then that no one had called me before. 'Ella…' Then he collapsed down next to me.

A moment filled with only heavy breathing when I felt laughter well up again, only with nothing to stop me this time it burst forth and the man beside me shot me a look of curiosity, disgust and – could it be? – hurt. 'I've had sex in many strange places,' I explained, 'but never before on top of someone else's broken coffee table.'

'Many strange places?' he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me and rolling onto his side to look at me.

I smiled impishly at him and stretched before standing to start gathering my clothes. I felt his eyes on me the entire time, but neither of us said anything. When I was dressed I turned back to look at him lying proudly naked across the remnants of the table and couldn't help but grin again.

'Enjoying the view?' he asked lazily.

'Infinitely,' I replied in a mocking impersonation of him. I leant down, cupping his face so he looked up at me and laid a light kiss on the corner of his lips.

'Not even the whole night?'

I sniggered and pushed him back onto the floor. 'You wish. I've only ever done a one night stand once before, and staying at his house resulted in a cataclysmic disaster involving one broken nose and several broken ribs.' I paused and watched as his eyebrows once again arced up to form an unspoken question. 'Good night, Severus,' I said calmly, as if I really had spent the time just having drinks with him, and left before the temptation of a repeat performance could gain too much hold and persuade me to stay.

The walk back to my own rooms seemed to take longer than it should have done, but I dawdled; figuratively dragging my feet. My mind rested a long time on one particular word. Why. Why had that happened? Why had it not been so entirely unexpected? Why had he decided on seducing me and why had I accepted? But, most resonant of all: why only one night? I had no doubt that I'd be able to carry on around him as normal, I'd had enough practise at pretending over the years. But it seemed strange to me that the stoic Potions Master had let loose like that and let himself have a good time. Or, at least, I presumed he had had a good time, judging by the way his body had responded to me.

Why had I gone ahead with it? The one night stand I had referred to earlier had indeed been an absolute disaster; it had been when I was at University when my long term boyfriend had broken up with me, calling me a frigid bitch because I didn't – wouldn't – have sex with him. So, to get my own back, I fucked one of his friends who had had a crush on me for some time. My ex walked in on us in the morning and a fight had ensued. I had watched on with mild amusement as they beat each other up. Then they turned on me.

The one problem with going to a Muggle university? I couldn't use magic. Two angry boys at the height of physical health bearing down on me and I'd left my wand back in my room. I managed to break one's nose and the other I'm pretty certain will never be able to have children, but between them they landed me in hospital for a week with three broken ribs. I left the university immediately and swore to myself never again – but here I was, walking back to my rooms after jumping the bones of a man I would never see naked again.

True, there was no jealous ex and I hadn't exactly been a virgin this time, so I knew what I was doing, but still. Would this come back and bite me in the arse as well? No, surely not.

We were two consenting adults with no background together – unless you counted the second-cousin-in-law-several-times-removed thing. Which you couldn't really. It wasn't as if he was a blood relative or that we'd ever seen each other outside of Hogwarts or that dreadful Christmas party when we said all of no words to each other. But this thought track brought me promptly back round to the 'why had he done it?' The only reason I could think of was that he needed a good ol' fuck and I was the nearest female who wasn't a student and whom he didn't know. And although that reason seemed good enough it didn't really explain why he'd chosen me, rather than go into town and pick up someone there.

Sighing, I pushed past my disgruntled portrait hole and made my way to my bed, not bothering to change as I collapsed backwards onto the mattress and fell quickly into a deep but troubled sleep.

Written: Unknown
Chances of continuation: nil

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Much love,
Cal