February 2012
Sophie and Neville worked in the warm greenhouse in comfortable silence; the soft sunlight of that Saturday morning filtered through the glass panels, shining a white light inside the green-filled space, highlighting the contrast with the snow-covered outside.
Sophie stole glimpses of him as he worked, smiling and allowing her mind to play the many scenarios she'd already dreamed about, most of them involving her on her back on top of the long table.
She allowed the glimpses to become longer as he seemed completely oblivious to her eyes on him, his own focused on the delicate sprouts that he was repotting.
But then she heard: "Need something, Miss Sophie?"
His soft voice travelling the length of the Greenhouse and abruptly bringing her back to the present, now aware that he wasn't as oblivious as she'd thought.
"N-no, professor," she quickly replied, loving how he had stopped calling her 'Miss Snape' when they were working alone; 'Miss Sophie' sounded almost like a nickname – no one but he called her that.
Sophie looked back at the Vervain plant she'd been tasked to harvest the flowers of, trying her best to not be caught staring at him again.
Neville harvested the last grown Mugwort and put the long green aromatic plants on a basket for him to take to the Potions Lab later.
Although he had called her attention when he caught her staring, Neville couldn't stop his own eyes from darting to the young woman from time to time, trying to be as discreet as possible. Sophie's green eyes were on her task, her fingers picking at the small purple flowers with precision and care, putting each one inside a glass jar that, too, would be taken to the Lab before lunchtime.
He knew he shouldn't be looking at her, but he wasn't strong enough, he loved looking at her – and it seemed she liked looking at him just as much.
And Fuck if that didn't complicate things.
Sophie Snape wasn't a woman that he could just decide to court and date. She was, first and foremost, his student – fifteen years younger than him.
And her father was not a man anyone wished to have as father-in-law – less of all Neville.
So, he had convinced himself he could look, since he didn't seem strong enough to put a stop on that obsession he'd developed with the headmaster's daughter, but he'd never give her any sign of his interest.
And he was interested – completely, terribly, interested. How could he not? Sophie Snape could be young but she wasn't an ordinary seventeen-year-old, she stood out wherever she went; both her beauty and her last name made sure she always had eyes on her, and she was brilliant. He had no doubt she'd be a great healer.
She carried herself with her mother's grace and her father's aloofness and oftentimes condescension, walking around the castle like she couldn't care less about her classmates' opinions – which, he learned, was the truth – her delicate shoulders always straightened and her chin up, her presence depicting more confidence than any other girl her age had.
Not a girl. His inner voice reminded him. She's of age now.
Neville watched her wandlessly summon a chair and sit on it slow and gracefully, his mind going straight into the gutter, imagining himself on that chair, her round arse on his lap, his hands on her thighs under her skirt – not that she was wearing her school uniform that day; Sophie favoured jeans on the weekends, which only helped feed his obsession with her hips and overall behind.
His dirt-stained hands itched with the desire of being filled with her arse, holding her close to him while he kissed her lips.
He gazed at said lips, so perfectly shaped, naturally pink. And just then her tongue darted out, moistening her fuller bottom lip and he swallowed a groan, feeling his cock hardening in his pants.
"Professor?" her sweet voice worked like a slap, bringing him back to the moment and away from his deviant daydreams.
Fuck. Neville cursed himself for allowing her to catch him staring – Godric knew how she'd interpret his lust-filled gaze.
"Yes, Miss Sophie?" he asked, turning his back on her, going to the sink to wash his hands, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if he hadn't been caught nearly drooling over his student.
"Are you alright, professor?" she asked, he could hear a hint of a smile in her tone.
"Yes. Of course."
"O-kay," Sophie drawled.
Neville finished washing his hands and walked back to the table, finding her green eyes on him, a soft blush on her cheeks.
Had she been checking his behind while he washed his hands?
He stared at her with a frown, hoping to make her see he disapproved of that behaviour, but her green eyes focused on him, a delicate single eyebrow raising up, and he feared right then that she had seen the truth and was fully aware of the nature of his previous thoughts.
The next hour passed by with no other uncomfortable episodes, but Sophie fought to keep her smile at a minimum; she'd seen it: his lust, just like her sister Elizabeth had said she would, if he were interested.
Now she was certain he was interested; Neville wanted her, and he was doing his best to hide it.
Sophie felt the giggle of joy bubbling inside of her threatening to escape and quickly forced it down, she had to think of what she'd do next, she had to find a way to make him admit to his attraction – and she hoped it was more than just physical attraction.
"It seems," she heard him say, "we'll have ourselves a free afternoon today," Neville commented with a smile, gathering his tools and putting them away.
"Yes, it seems we will," she agreed, unenthused by the idea of spending the rest of her weekend in her common room instead of in the greenhouses with him.
She heard him approach, picking up stray tools, and soon he was right beside her.
"You did a great job with the Vervain, barely dented some of the petals."
"Thank you, professor," she replied, throwing her long hair over her shoulder and giving him a sweet smile.
Neville seemed slightly dazzled for a few seconds, suddenly taking deep breaths as if he had been running.
"Something wrong, professor?" Sophie innocently asked, realising she shouldn't be that upset about their weekend work being cut short – she now had to plan what she'd do next to make him admit to his feelings.
"I– yes. Yes, great– great job," he struggled to not stammer as her sweet lemongrass scent wrapped around him and, despite knowing her shouldn't, he inhaled deep, filling his lungs up with it, wishing he could bottle that scent and spray it all over his bed so that he could roll on it.
"It was a very productive morning," she continued with a smile, turning to face him, "Wouldn't you say?"
"Yes, very... productive," he nodded, looking briefly down her body and swallowing nervously; without a doubt she knew where his mind had been and by the gleam in her green eyes, he feared what she would do with that information.
Meanwhile inside the castle
Stephen walked into the Slytherin common room, coming from the bathroom where he'd had a hot shower after a cold morning of practice in the Quidditch pitch, and knew even before he had entered the room that she was in there.
Gianah sat on an armchair by one of the large windows overlooking the bottom of the lake, a book in her hands, her long red hair falling down her shoulders in soft waves. If mermaids were the beautiful creatures muggles believed them to be, she'd remind him of one.
He kept his eyes on her as he walked towards the boys' dorm; she seemed to be alone, no sign of her Slytherin shadow.
Tiana is probably with Lynne somewhere. He thought.
Gianah looked up then, her blue eyes falling right on him, making him instantly self-conscious; Stephen wasn't used to feeling uncomfortable under females' stares, but the way Gianah had started looking at him after that day in the library, trading the usual disdain for a soft gaze accompanied by blushing cheeks, had the power to unsettle him like nothing else.
He could take that as an opportunity to approach her – but what would he say then? What would he do? What would she say? Would she mock him? Was that smile of hers just a ploy to humiliate him? Or dared he dream she was as interested as he had always accused her of being?
Stephen stopped, the weight of the many variables freezing him where he stood; he gave up going to the dorm, fearing she might try to talk to him if he did, deciding his best course of action would be the same he took that day in the library, so he walked out of the common room.
Gianah let out a small sigh as she watched him go, wishing she could follow him and offer to brush his tousled wet hair – or better yet that he had walked closer and decided to talk about that day...
She shook her head, knowing he'd never do that. Slytherins weren't known for their bravery, and no matter how much she teased Stephen, she knew he belonged in their House.
She looked back at her History of Magic book but couldn't focus enough to read another line, her thoughts on the boy that had just left the common room. She had started to entertain the idea that Stephen truly had feelings for her – and they weren't either hatred or disdain; in fact, she was almost certain he liked her just as much as she liked him. Considering that since their strange talk in the library, she hadn't heard any new rumours of him dating anyone, Gianah couldn't deny she felt the beginnings of hope blossoming in her heart.
When lunchtime arrived, Neville sat at the high table with the other staff members and avoided looking at the Ravenclaw students.
Lusting after a student was bad enough, but having his feelings reciprocated made it worse. He could easily be accused of taking advantage of her, of abusing his position as teacher and Head of House to make her sleep with him. Even though he wasn't the Head of her House nor were they sleeping together.
He reached for his empty goblet and summoned some wine, needing the alcohol to settle his nerves, as his mind kept on playing what might happen next.
Sophie Snape isn't the type of woman to sit back and wait for what she wants, and if she wants me – oh Godric, if I dare dream that she wants me – chances are she will do something... and that will complicate everything!
"Is everything alright, Neville?" asked Florence Snape, sitting to his left.
He jumped, quickly putting on a face and resting his empty goblet on the table, slowly turning to look at the beautiful Medwitch, who was staring at him with a knowing smile and, not for the first time, made him suspicious that she knew more about his feelings than he thought.
"Everything's perfect, Madam Snape," he politely replied, summoning his food and offering a friendly smile to the woman that was much more than simply a beautiful Medwitch, Florence was a war heroine, daughter of the evillest wizard to ever have lived, wife to the Headmaster and Sophie's mother.
"Had a pleasant morning?" she asked.
"What?" he nearly choked on his salad, but quickly recovered, replying: "Yes, very enjoyable."
"Good," she nodded, "Sophie loves spending time with you in the greenhouses, you know," she added, her whole demeanour calm and nonchalant but her eyes sparkled with something akin to mischief.
"Likewise," he said, "She's a great woman– I mean student! She's a great student," he looked down at his plate and cursed himself for calling Sophie a woman, which she was but it wasn't proper for him to notice that.
"I'm glad to hear that you two get along so well," continued Florence.
"Who gets along well?" asked Severus, sitting beside her.
"Sophie and Neville," she promptly replied.
Neville looked at the headmaster and gulped, instantly feeling the weight of the man's gaze on him.
"Is that so?" Severus drawled.
"She's a good student," Neville said, as calmly as he could muster, "A great assistant. Very intelligent young woman," he stopped talking, knowing he was about to start blabbering due to nervousness,
Fuck. There he went again calling her a woman.
The headmaster's dark eyes stayed on him for another moment, until Florence touched his arm and he looked at her.
Neville slowly breathed out and dared glance at the Ravenclaw table, and surely his eyes met hers; Sophie slowly brought the fork to her mouth and her lips captured the food from it; he watched her lick her lips after chewing and he knew he was doomed – if her teasing didn't kill him, her father would.
Note: We are soo close to the drama, I can barely control myself! I am so excited for you all to read the drama that will start to develop in the next chapters!
