Things had changed after their kiss.
Severus had kept her after class the next day, informing her that the nature of their relationship was strictly that of a professor and student and that the forbidden act of passion was nothing more than a mistake. Nothing more, nothing less, he had said, gritting his teeth as he told the girl not to inform anyone of what had transpired in his private quarters. She had nodded, excusing the kiss in the same way he had, chalking it up to their lack of sobriety. She left his class, the two with a mutual understanding, but neither could say that it didn't feel odd to not be joining the other to grade underclassmen assignments. The fall months passed quickly, Kate finding herself busy as late November came with her studies, tutoring and quidditch, along with making the heavy choice of what she would make her profession after leaving Hogwarts in the spring. The young professor remained cold to her, almost ignoring her presence in his class, only to acknowledge her to make a snide comment when Meredith would turn to whisper to her, smirking when her face turned red and she looked down. He was insufferable, the brooding twit. Absolutely insufferable.
The night of their… kiss, she had returned to her dorm, collapsing on her bed, the wine's effects fading as her head started to pound. She had pressed her fingers to her temples, massaging the soft skin with slow circular motions, standing to cross the room without disrupting her sleeping roommates. It was much later than she had thought it to be, the moon high in the inky sky. She settled into the bench by the window, staring out at the stars. She remembered what her father had told her many years ago about the stars, his deep brogue echoing in her thoughts, "Ya know, Birdie," he had once said, a six year old Kate hoisted up on his shoulders, her eyes wide as her father pointed out the constellations, naming all of them, "We are all like stars. We all wish to make someone's dream come true." Her heart sunk in her chest, Kate leaning her head back against the cool stone wall. She missed her Da terribly; Murphy Blakewood's bark-like laughter fading from her mind. Her mind strayed from her father, her eyes still locked on the stars as her mind strayed to the events of the past few nights.
She replayed the evening in her mind, the professor's kiss still lingering on her lips. A twinge of regret came over her, Kate remembering the severe inappropriateness of the situation. She had kissed a professor while drunk in his private chambers. Surely there would be severe consequences if the Headmaster ever caught wind of the incident. It couldn't continue, whatever it in fact was. The whole idea of the matter was rather unprofessional, not matter how handsome he was. And how fast it happened, she noted. Of course, she had known of the professor during his days as a student, remembering seeing his brooding demeanor traipsing through the hallways and spotting him with that Malfoy's wretched group of cronies at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. But her only real interaction with him had only been a few nights ago in the Astronomy Tower. And in addition to his awful lack of a personality, there was his past… She remembered the whispers about him during her sixth year when Professor Dumbledore had announced him as the new Potions Master, Professor Slughorn stepping down from his position and entering retirement. Meredith had leaned over, whispering to her, "I remember him, he was Slytherin! Ran with Lucious Malfoy's crew. Remember them? Heard they got into some dark things, the lot of them."
Kate let out a soft sigh, her eyes locked on the stars. Besides, she refused to be a stereotype. She would not be one of those girls who pined over her professor. She was a strong witch, damn it. She was better than that nonsense. She knew nothing of the professor, other than his wretched presence. He was rude and crass, lacking any bit of empathy or compassion for others. Truly wretched. She told herself again that the kiss meant was nothing that was only going to complicate her education if she continued down the dimwitted path she had stumbled upon.
Severus was never one for quidditch. He found the wizarding pastime to be rather brutish and uncivilized, and, well, a waste of his time. He folded his gloved hands in his lap, squinting out through the late November snow at the students suspended above the pitch. Gryffindor was playing Hufflepuff that Sunday afternoon, students in their respective towers, cheering while bundled up under blankets and sweaters. Minerva sat on his left, frivolously chatting with Pomona about the upcoming holiday season. She was blabbering about how she and her husband would be traveling to Edinburgh to visit their son and his family. Severus often forgot that the woman was in fact married. The two women chatted on, Severus wishing he were deaf so that he would be spared from the numbing chit chat. He didn't understand why others felt so inclined to share the details of their personal lives, no one gave a damn really.
The Gryffindor towards erupted with excitement as one of their chasers sped through one of the opposing teams scoring hoops, plaits of curly blonde bouncing in the wind like gold streamers. Kate high fived a teammate, the Quaffle reentering the game. The two female professors clapped wildly, turning to each other once more. Severus clapped lighting, watching as his student dipped about the pitch.
"Oh, that Miss Blakewood, incredible athlete isn't she Minerva?" Pomona said excitedly, putting her hand on the elderly witch's arm, "Say, she is in your House, Min! Do you know her plans, you know, post-Hogwarts?"
Minerva patted the ear flaps of her tartan hat, making sure they were tight over her ears, "Oh, I don't think Miss Blakewood is quite sure of her plans yet. She scored rather high on her examinations, so her options are open. Katherine's considered training to become a healer and following in her father's footsteps, but I've encouraged her to considering teaching. She's been tutoring since her fifth year; has a group from every underclassmen year, students from all houses, which meet with her in the library. She meets with a few upperclassmen as well. She is rather talented when it comes to it, Pomona, she would be an excellent addition to Hogwarts staff someday. Miss Blakewood would make a fine wizarding primary teacher as well."
Pomona nodded, "I remember her father, Murphy was a kind man."
"Indeed he was."
Severus's ears stung, a lump forming in his throat. He turned to Minerva, "Has something come of the girl's father?"
Minerva nodded, her smile shrinking as she turned to the professor, "Unfortunately, Mr. Blakewood died suddenly of illness over the summer. He was a healer in the deadly illness and disease ward of St. Mungo's and contracted one of the patient's ailments and it took over him quickly. Katherine lives with her mother and step father in America when she is not at Hogwarts."
Snape nodded, "That is rather unfortunate to hear," he said, his voice low as his eyes found Miss Blakewood again, watched as she took the Quaffle into her arms once more, "She is a rather kind girl." Minerva nodded once more, returning to her gossip. Severus watched her zip between Hufflepuff's chasers, taking the Quaffle back into their scoring zone, beaming as her House erupted. He hadn't spoken to her in months, not since the day following the events in his chambers. She went back to loathing him, keeping her eyes down in his class, sneering at his harsh comments and leaving hurriedly with Miss Rowling after class. He would listen to her tutor first years from his secluded spot in the library before dinner, her brogue echoing through the empty library.
Kate was shoulder to shoulder with a Hufflepuff, forcing them off of the Quaffle. Minerva clutched the dark professor's arm, Severus rolling his eyes as she whispered encouragements. A loud crack! echoed from the pitch. The unmistakable sound of club on Bludger. Severus jumped in his seat when the bewitched mass of iron made contact with the young woman's chest, picking her up off her broom and send her plummeting towards the icy grass forty feet below her. Students screamed, players coming to a stop mid game, professors rising to their feet in a panic as her limp form came slamming against the earth. There were a series of loud pops, Madame Hooch blowing her whistle and bringing the game to hault as several professors Apparated to the field, racing to the girl's seemingly lifeless body. Her Head of House pushed the front of the small crowd, Madame Promfrey close behind as they dropped to their knees at her side. Severus's feet hit the icy ground, quickly striding to the group of staff members, Dumbledore pushing his way towards the girl. Severus caught a glimpse of his student, his stomach churning at the sight of her. Her face was rather bloody, a large gash on her forehead and her lip split and bleeding. Her arm stuck out at an unnatural angle, her ribs surely broken, and her chest raising so slightly under her pads that it looked as if she weren't breathing at all. Her already pale skin looked almost translucent under the deep red of her blood. Her teammates grounded around their professors, looking on in horror at their broken friend. Albus hoisted the girl into his arms, Severus never noticing how small she was. "We must get her to the infirmary," he said, the staff parting as he, Minerva and Poppy trailing closely behind, "Severus, we will need your assistance."
She looked so small in the infirmary bed, her peaceful sleeping state reminding him of a child. The laceration to her forehead had been healed, her lip slightly swollen and arm in a sling. On the bedside table sat bottles of bone mending potion and blood regenerating potion that the Headmaster had Severus brew while Poppy went to work on the girl. She was asleep, dressed in a flannel nightgown that Miss Rowling had brought for her; the girl's friend had stayed for a while, using charms from Witch Weekly to clean her friend's wild hair, which hung around her thin face like a lion's mane. In the moonlight, her hair almost looked white, he noted. It wasn't perfectly curly throughout, some sections hanging in frizzy waves, others in time ringlets, some strands straight. Truly wild, really.
Poppy had told him that she would be out of classes until Tuesday, giving her time to rest and heal. She had broken several ribs, her wrist, the fall shattering her radius, ulna, humerus, and clavicles. She should have died, falling from such a height and landing and such an angle. The fall played over and over in his mind, her delicate body bouncing hard on the group, like a child's ragdoll being thrown down. It was miraculous that she was still alive, he mused from the doorway of the infirmary, the early morning hours approaching. Severus shook his head, "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked himself. But there he stood in his bedclothes, watching his student sleep. He crossed the room to her beside, taking and empty cup from her bedside stand, pouring water from the pitcher beside it into the cup and setting where it would be in her immediate reach when she woke. Another cup sat on the bedside stand, Severus tapping it lightly with the tip of his wand. She stirred in sleep, sighing softly as she adjusted her position. He rather liked the way she looked in the moonlight.
Kate's eyes cracked open, inhaling sharply through her nose, head throbbing. The first light of morning came crawling through the infirmary and creeping under her eyelids, pulling her from a peaceful dreamless sleep. Her head was pounding, her skin tight over when her head had struck the ground. She didn't remember her fall, only remembering waking up in the infirmary, Madame Promfrey hovering above her, holding a goblet to her lips and forcing foul tasting potions down her throat before blacking out again. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night, starlight illuminating the dark empty room, the pale moonlight casting shadows across his handsome face. She must have been dreaming, she thought, slipping back into her potion-induced sleep.
Kate rolled onto her side, wincing when she put weight on her injured arm. She sat up, reaching for the cup of water on the bedside stand, her fingers brushing against the pale pink peonies that sprouted from a second cup.
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-DCAGP