I don't tell You-Know-Who anything. I don't have to tell him.

I can feel him digging around through my brain, picking up each memory and examining it like a customer at a shop. He lingers over the ones that feature Severus. He seems amused by my schoolboy crush. "You had him here, baring everything to you, and still you couldn't tell him?" You-Know-Who laughs as he releases his tendrils from my mind. I flinch.

His eyes are red and I think, they should be warmer. Like an ember. Red is such a hot, vibrant colour. But instead his eyes are cold, as if they were coloured the deepest blue. He looks at me with curious amusement. We're the same height, him and I, but he seems so much taller. Bigger. His magic fills the entire studio and I can feel it pressing against my chest and lungs, making it hard to catch a breath.

"I look forward to seeing more of your work," he says with a smile, bows his head, and takes his leave. I can do nothing but gape at him like a fish.

Malfoy presses a few galleons into my limp palm. "For your discretion," he says. There is a warning in his tone. A hint of a threat. I'm not stupid. I've read the papers. "I'll make arrangements regarding the purchase of the painting at a later date."

He follows his master and as soon as the door closes behind him, I sink to my knees, unable to support my weight any longer.

I can suddenly breathe again and as oxygen floods my brain, I think of only one thing: Severus. He has to be warned. I scramble up, swaying slightly as I manage to stand upright. I make my way over to Gertrude's cage. The barn owl had tucked her head underneath her wing the moment You-Know-Who appeared. She peeks out at my approach, and seeing him gone, lets out a series of shrieks and chirps, nipping lightly at my fingers as I take her shaking form from the cage.

I scribble out a letter to Severus, warning him of what has just transpired, and send Gertrude on her way. She returns within an hour, but I can't sleep. I spend the entire night stroking her feathers, keeping watch outside my garret window in case he returns. I wait.

I wait four days and then I can stand it no longer. I breach the threshold of my door and go outside, feeling the prickle of eyes on me as I scurry down the street. I go to the boarding house where Severus lives, and there I am duly informed that Severus has moved out. "Has he given you a forwarding address?" I ask.

"No," the landlady succinctly answers and closes the door in my face.

He must have read my letter. He must have gone into hiding, I think as I trudge back to my garret. I should probably leave too. Just in case. But when I get back to my room, I can't find the energy. I like Knockturn. It's dirty and dangerous and everything my family disparaged, but there's life here, more than that cold, sterile house I grew up in with my cold, sterile parents.

Instead of packing, I pull out the large canvas I bought a week prior and place it in front of my window. I begin sketching. I trace the outlines of the buildings, feeling their shape as twilight descends, scattering the light until everything glows a hazy purple. I move down to the cemetery, drawing and erasing and drawing again to ensure the perspective is correct when a knock on my door sends my pencil skyward.

My hands are shaking as I put my pencil back down. I'm terrified. What if it's You-Know-Who again? What if he's angry that Severus escaped? My fingers are completely numb as I turn the knob and pull open the door.

I am not prepared to find Severus Snape standing in front of me.

He pushes past me and I am helpless in stopping him. I don't even try. I simply stand there as he closes the door, marches into my garret room, turns back around to face me and… he says nothing. He's fidgeting a little, twitchy, his eyes darting from side to side. He looks different. His clothes are very expensive and his hair shines. He looks well taken care of.

"Why did you come back?" I somehow blurt out despite how dry my mouth has become. "It's not safe for you here."

"Safe," he laughs. "I've never felt that."

"But You-Know-Who… he's after you… Surely, you got my letter."

He laughs again and doesn't answer. "You're a wonderful artist," he says, and I can't help the warmth that fills me with his words. "But you're not much of a wizard. Have you ever even been in a duel? Have you ever cast a curse?"

"Um–" I hadn't. I've never been in a fight. I don't know what I'd do if someone tried to hex me. Run, maybe.

"You're very gentle. Kind, even," Severus continues. He looks me up and down, and I shiver. "You told me you used to draw me at school. You said I was fascinating. Was that all it was? Was I just some bug under a magnifying lens to you?"

"No," I force the single word from my lungs.

"Are you attracted to me?" His eyes are glittering.

"Yes."

He lets out a breath, his arms wrapping around himself for a second, only for him to drop them again. Without another look at me, he marches to the sofa I had pushed into the corner, sits down on it, and starts to disrobe. "How do you want me?" He asks.

"You want me to paint your portrait again?" I ask. My voice is shaking.

"No." Once he's completely naked, he looks back up. I find myself tethered to him, sinking down onto the spot beside him, my clothed knee brushing against his bare body.

He's watching me like I'm some kind of wild animal and then, quite suddenly, he leans forward and kisses me. It's very soft and hesitant and he's pulling away as soon as he's done it, but I chase after him, stealing another and another.

He lets me guide him down onto his back. I keep kissing him, my lips pulling away every so often as I tug off my waistcoat and shoes and trousers. I feel his fingers, feather soft, brush against my shoulders, and then grow bolder, pressing firmly against the flesh there.

I move to his jaw, kissing just below his ear as I skim my hand down his chest, running over his nipples. He breathes deeply through his nose – not quite a moan, not quite a sigh – as my hand dips lower. I can feel him harden against me, the weight of him in my palm. I want to move lower, taste him, but he's clutching at me, his body is shivering.

"We need lube, don't we?" He nervously asks. "I was told… for penetration…"

"We don't have to do any of that," I say, honestly surprised that he wants to go so far, so fast. I don't think he has much experience.

"You want to, don't you?" He asks, and there is something challenging in his voice.

"Sure, but–" Severus looks half-ready to get up and leave, and I quickly swallow back any protest. "Okay, did you want to top, or–?"

He rolls his eyes and opens his legs. "Okay, okay," I say again and let myself sink fully against him. That seems to settle him somewhat. "There's a spell I can use."

"Then get on with it."

I flush and, not knowing what else to do, I kiss him again. He lets me. He does everything I say. Bend your legs, hold them just like that, breathe, relax. It's like I'm painting him again; directing each little movement to suit my needs, and the disquiet grows in my brain.

I work my fingers into him. He's silent. "Does it hurt?" I ask worriedly.

"No. It's fine. Keep going." The words aren't breathless with emotion. They're clinical. Cold. It's not until I lean down and lick the head of his half-hard cock that I get a proper reaction. He yelps and his hand fists my hair, yanking me up. "You don't have to do that," he says, flustered, his face bright red.

"I want to do it."

He snorts, rolls his eyes again, and snaps, "Fine. But none of this means anything. Once you've finished, I'm leaving. You don't mean a thing to me."

I don't say anything. I can't say anything. The words get stuck in my throat. I wonder if there's anyone that's important to him. Lily Evans was once, I know, but it seems so long ago now.

I lean back down and take the head of his cock back into my mouth while I continue to work him open. I can hear his muffled gasps above my head. It sounds like he's biting his lip. His entire body is stiff and all of a sudden I want this to be over. This is nothing like how I imagined it to be.

I remove my fingers, drag myself back up, and I'm surprised when he brushes a hand against my cheek and kisses me just as I push inside.

I rock slowly into him. Severus's long legs, dangling in the air, drop until they're wrapped around my waist, his heel digging into my back. "Go faster," he says, and I speed up, pushing harder into him.

"Faster," he commands, and I can feel the sweat dripping off of my forward.

"Faster."

"No," I tell him. I want to slow down, I want to savour this, but I'm lost to the sensation. He's so tight and warm and wet, his breath is stirring against my ear. He's clutching at me, his fingers tangling into my hair and I can hear him suck in a breath every time I push back in. He starts to move against me, pushing back, and his thighs tremble against my sides as he comes between our bodies.

I follow him, pushing in deep, coming inside. I keep my eyes open the entire time. I want to look at him. I take in his red, bitten lips, and his flushed complexion, and the dazed, uncertain expression on his face. I can feel myself soften, his walls still squeezing around me, and I try to stay inside him for as long as I can, but my cock slips free with a rush of cum.

As soon as I pull out, he's already skittering out from underneath my tired limbs. I watch him as he pulls on his clothes, his legs shaking like a newborn colt's.

"Stay."

He ignores me, his long fingers working the buttons on his sleeve.

"We can run away together."

He laughs harshly, but something softens when he sees the pain and want in my face. He leans down, his collar still undone, and kisses me again. "This never happened," he whispers against my lips and leaves.

I continue to lie there on the sofa until the dark, twilight hours slip well into the night. I don't know what to think. I don't want to think. All that build up, and then… I can feel the tears running down my cheeks. I'm a walking cliche. The garret room, the weepy artist, and the model he's in love with. There's probably a novel written by some Victorian author that describes my life down to the vase of sunflowers I keep next to my easel.

I hear a shout from outside. I continue to lie there for several more seconds. Shouts, screams, shrieks– those sorts of noises are common here in Knockturn. Like the sound of crickets out in the countryside. But at the second yell, I climb to my feet. I have to get up sometime anyway. I'm not spending the night on that sofa. Pretty it might be, it's damned uncomfortable.

I shuffle over to my window and peek out. There's a light coming from the cemetery. It's from a wand and I can see a man, a local, I think, on his back struggling against something. At first, I think he's fighting a ghost. Don't be ridiculous. Ghosts can't touch. And this… this thing has his hands wrapped his neck. It's only a head and half a torso. Is there a Legless Hunt? I think stupidly. But this man – what is left of him – is as solid and real as I am. It's definately a man, with black messy hair, and spectacles. He looks familiar.

There's a knife glinting in the light. The torso drags the knife across the man's throat. I'm already numb from what just happened, and all I can think as I watch the man bleed out is, he looks like Severus.

The torso stands up and he does… something. It's like he's pulling on a cloak, but there's nothing there. His shoulders and head disappear.

I duck back, not wanting to draw the thing's attention and crawl into bed. Like Severus said, I'm not much of a wizard. Someone will find the man's body in the morning.

A month later, Lucius Malfoy commissions a portrait. I'm scared shitless, but I'm also too scared to make a run for it. And here I thought they had forgotten about me, I think hysterically as I find myself standing in a fancy apartment, my easel tucked underneath my arm. It is by far nicer than anything my parents own.

A house-elf leads me to the parlour and I pull up short when I see my painting – Severus's painting – hanging above the fireplace. And there is Severus himself, cool and poised in an armchair. He doesnt say anything to me. He... feels different. More powerful than before... He feels a little like him.

"My associate is a fan of your work," Malfoy says as he comes to stand beside Severus, bracing a hand against the back of the chair. "He would like for you to paint Severus's portrait again. Something a little less provocative this time."

I look at Severus. He lifts his brow, as if daring me to mention what happened between us. I swallow and look away. "A traditional portrait? Full body or a bust?" I ask.

"Bust, if you please. Money is no object."