A fire was lit in the sitting room, filling it with a warm glow, and a tray with two glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky had been left on the dining table.
"Would you like a drink?"
Severus affirmed with a nod.
Samara poured two glasses, and handed one to him. He took a long sip, before setting down the glass and moving closer. He took her by the waist, and lifted her up to sit on the table, bringing her to eye level with him. His eyes were smouldering like black coals, holding her captive, as he traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger. His face was so close to hers, she could smell the Firewhisky on his breath. Then he kissed her again, slowly and tenderly this time, gently exploring her mouth with his. His left arm was wrapped around her, his hand in her hair, while the other hand had slipped under the hem of her dress, and was stroking the inside of her thigh. Samara closed her eyes, and surrendered herself to his touch as he slowly moved higher. It was pure bliss. When he reached the apex of her legs, and his thumb brushed against the fabric of her underwear, the pleasure was so intense, she let out a small cry. He stopped, and looked her in the eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do this? If you're not, I should leave now. For if I stay, there will be no stopping, we will go all the way."
Her head was spinning with the unbearable anticipation of what was about to happen, as she let the meaning of his words sink in, savouring the promise, the menace, they contained.
"Yes," she breathed, "stay."
Her glass was shaking in her hand, and he took it from her to set it aside. "Then lets go up to your bedroom," he whispered close to her ear, his warm breath on her neck making her shiver.
He swept her off the table and, carried her up the stairs to her room. There, he set her down on the large four-poster bed, and lit the candles on the dressing table with a casual flick of his wand. Soft flickering light filled the room as he put his wand down.
Samara got up to stand before him, and then they embraced, hungrily, unable to get close enough, their hands searching. She had fantasised about this so much, but now it was actually happening for real, he was so close, hers to touch. He grabbed her firmly around the waist, pulling her closer against his pelvis. She could feel his arousal hard against her through the fabric of his trousers. Desire was throbbing deep in her abdomen as she realised how much he wanted her.
Filled with longing to feel his body, she started to unbutton his shirt. She ran her hands all over his torso, feeling the shape of his pectoral muscles, caressing the spray of black hair on his chest, rubbing her thumbs across his small male nipples. She loved the way his body felt under her questing hands, the masculine smell wafting off his skin.
He undid the zipper in the back of her dress, and brushed the straps off her shoulders so that the dress fell to her feet. Then he unhooked her bra with nimble fingers, and let it drop to the floor. His eyes rested on her as she stood before him nearly naked, taking in every curve of her body. She felt a little self-conscious, being so exposed before him. But when his hands stroked across the outline of her ribs, and upwards again to cup her breasts, any such thoughts evaporated under his gentle, almost reverent touch. Aroused, she dropped her head back, offering her neck to his lips, and as he brushed a trail of kisses down to her collarbone, she sighed with pleasure.
He shrugged off his shirt, and removed his trousers and briefs, affording her the full view of his erection. She reached down, curling her fingers around his manhood, marvelling at the incredibly delicate skin. He drew in a sharp breath, but then took hold of her wrist with firm grip and pulled her away. For a moment, she was worried that she had done something wrong.
"Too much..." he whispered.
Still holding on to her wrist, he walked her backwards toward the bed, and pushed her onto it.
She admired the sight of his naked body, lean and sinewy, the toned muscles covering his frame under the pale skin. She had so often wondered what he looked like under those layers of heavy black fabric, and she was not disappointed. Her eyes fell onto a dark shadow on his left forearm, resembling a faded tattoo. A cold shiver went through her as she realised what it was, but she had no time to ponder on it, as now he was removing her underwear, the last bastion of her modesty, and settled next to her on the bed. His hand trailed down along her cleavage, across her stomach, and between her legs. She was aching for his touch. Time seemed to stand still, while the world around her disappeared, as she abandoned herself to the delicate touch of his fingers exploring her most private area. He knew what he was doing. This was very different from the clumsy fumbling of a teenage boy, or the uninspired thumping of a one-night-stand born out of desperation. He slipped one finger into her, making her gasp with shock at the sudden invasion.
"You are so wet... Are you ready to take me inside you?"
So this was it, the ultimate intimacy - he was going to make love to her. It was all happening so quickly, the last barrier between them about to fall, and she was both incredibly aroused and a little apprehensive. Her body was tingling all over. She arched against him, and spread her thighs in response. Yes, she wanted him, trusted him. The sight of his rugged features in the candlelight, his black hair flopping onto the broad expanse of his shoulders as he braced over her, was incredibly attractive. She tensed a little as she felt him nudge against her, but moaned with pleasure when he slowly pushed into her, stretching her muscles to accommodate him.
For a moment, he remained still, allowing her to relish the delicious sensation of penetration, feeling his stiff member sheathed all the way inside her. His eyes were locked into hers, and she submerged herself in those black pools, sensing the deep connection between them. A deep groan escaped his chest, and he momentarily closed his eyes, when she squeezed her pelvic muscles around him. He took it as his cue to start moving inside her, picking up a slow rhythm. Her hands caressed his neck and back, exploring the valley between his shoulder blades. She just loved that part of male anatomy, and let her hands follow the narrowing line of his back down to his firm buttocks. Each thrust sent pulses of pleasure through her body, growing ever more intense, while her need for him was getting more and more desperate.
Their breathing grew heavier and ragged as his strokes came harder and faster, and she raised her hips to meet him, hungrily, greedily. Before long, Samara could feel herself on the edge of an orgasm. Her hands gripped around his waist, and she pulled herself towards him, enraptured, digging her fingers into the muscles of his back in anticipation. Then the contractions shook her body as a wave of pleasure washed over her. Severus paused for a moment, watching her convulse underneath him. His face pulled into a grimace, and his eyes rolled back as he went full and deep one last time. She felt the quiver as he spent himself inside her, and collapsed onto her with a deep moan.
"Samara..."
He cupped her head in his hands as their mouths met in a long tender kiss, and they continued to lie in each others arms for a while.
Years of hunger and longing were not easily satisfied, however, and soon they made love again, this time slower, and taking more time to explore, before finally lying next to each other exhausted. Happy and completely spent, they fell asleep.
* * *
When Severus awoke hours later, dawn was breaking outside, and the song of a myriad of birds could be heard from the garden. Samara was still lying asleep on her belly, her face dug into the pillow, and partly obscured by her hair, her breathing quiet and regular. He got up quietly, careful not to wake her, and picked his clothes off the floor. Then he gently pulled the blanket over her and got dressed. He paused, and looked at her for a moment. As he recalled the blissful hours of the night before his heart filled with tenderness. He could so easily fall in love with this woman, and the realisation scared him. He had to gain control of his feelings, clear his thoughts, get a grip.
Severus pulled himself away from the bed, soundlessly sneaked out of the room, and walked down the stairs into the sitting room. The fire had gone out, so that the room was filled only with the dim light of dawn. He stopped in front of the glass doors leading to the garden, and looked out into the early morning, watching a black-bird hopping about in the grass, looking for food.
The reality of his life hit him like a cold dagger in the chest – The Dark Lord, Death-Eater gatherings, the Unbreakable Vow he had made, his promise to Dumbledore, his cursed past. How could he have been so foolish, so irresponsible, to let down his guard, and give into his desire? Years of celibacy had taken their toll, no doubt. He had not been touched by a woman for so long, and her shy kiss had made him lose control.
But it was dangerous; he must not allow it to happen again. He knew instinctively that, despite his Occlumency skills, he would not be able to conceal such strong feelings from the Dark Lord. What if the Dark Lord grew suspicious, if he found out that Severus was attached to someone, someone on the opposite side? He would doubt his loyalty, and then neither he nor Samara would be safe, his mission jeopardized.
He knew that, whichever way things turned, he was a doomed man. He would only end up pulling her down with him; there could be no happy ever after for them. He had to close his heart, forget all about last night and Samara, or he might once more bring death to someone he cared for.
At this thought, bitterness and pain seared through his heart like spears of fire. He gasped, and had to steady himself with one hand against the mantelpiece, fighting the hot tears that threatened to swell in his eyes. He wanted to smash his fist at something to relieve the frustration, the blind anger at being so powerless, unable to change his own fate, a puppet in some grand scheme.
He had never shirked from his responsibility, had never complained about the dangerous mission Dumbledore had entrusted him with, had never repined about the cruel hand that fate had dealt him. He knew he deserved every bit of it. But now, all of that was not sufficient atonement for the bad choices he had made as a young man. It had just been made worse by giving him a glimpse of what might have been. And although he knew it was unfair, he felt angry with Samara, angry for making it so hard to continue along the path he had chosen, angry for making it so difficult for him to die, when before he had relished the thought of redeeming himself by giving his life, to protect Lily's son, or to help bring down her murderer.
He should never have allowed things to get this far. Now it would be awkward and difficult to continue the friendship he had come to value so much, and he could hardly avoid hurting her feelings.
Severus was pulled out of his thoughts by Samara, who had just walked down the stairs, dressed in blue silk pyjamas, and greeted him chirpily.
"There you are, Severus, I was wondering where you had gone. Fancy some breakfast?"
"Good morning, Miss Ravenhood, I appreciate the offer, but I should leave straight away."
Samara looked at him with disbelief written all over her face.
"Why? It's Sunday! And what is that supposed to mean - Miss Ravenhood? I thought I heard you call me by my first name last night."
"Last night means nothing and changes nothing, and in any case it is not to be repeated. You will forget it ever happened," he said coldly.
"What do you mean – it means nothing? So you just used me?" she replied, an incredulous look on her face.
"Used you?" he snapped, his eyes glittering with annoyance. "Now let's be clear about one thing – during the entire evening you were trying to seduce me, and you got exactly what you wanted."
"No! That's not what I wanted. I wanted your love, just as I am offering you mine." Her voice was almost a whisper as she seemed to be fighting down the tears.
"You are confusing love with lust, Miss Ravenhood. True love is sacrifice. If that's what you want, you could start by not making a scene; it would be better that way for both of us."
He summoned his cloak.
"Severus - No! Wait! I don't understand."
She grabbed his arm, and tried to hold him back.
"Precisely which bit do you not understand?" he spat, anger flashing in his eyes as he wrenched himself free. "I have no desire to hurt your pride, or your feelings, Miss Ravenhood, so don't force me to make myself even clearer."
He pinched some floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece, stepped into the fireplace, and disappeared in a burst of green flames.
"Severus!" She shouted after him, tears swelling in her eyes.
'You are confusing love with lust.' Those words hurt. She could hardly breathe as she felt something in her chest contract into painful spasm.
How could he make love to her all night, only to reject her so cruelly the next morning? Was that it? Had she only been an evening's diversion? It had felt so real, so good. It was hard to believe that it had meant nothing to him.
Her knees gave way, and she sank down on the floor, doubled over, her hands shaking, her chest heaving, and finally broke into violent sobs, as hot tears rolled over her face.