Sia barely registered Andromeda's presence when she entered the dormitory. The room was dim, the enchanted sconces casting flickering light across the stone walls. She moved on instinct—unbuttoning the rest of her robes, slipping into nightclothes, pulling back the emerald-green covers of her bed—all without really thinking.
Her mind was elsewhere.
What had just happened?
She wasn't sure if it had been a game to Severus or something more calculated, but the fact remained—she had let him. She had sat there, frozen, while his breath ghosted over her skin, while his fingers traced her throat, while he murmured—soft—like he had discovered something entirely new.
Sia clenched her jaw.
She was not going to let that happen again.
He had caught her at a vulnerable moment. That was all. She had been exhausted, drowsy, unguarded. She wouldn't allow it a second time.
She refused to be one of his experiments.
With that final thought, she forced herself to lie down, yanking the covers up to her chin. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to will away the memory of his voice, his touch, his presence—but sleep did not come easily.
In the boys' dormitory, Severus sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, fingers pressed together as he stared at nothing. The candle beside him flickered, casting restless shadows against the deep green canopy.
What had he been doing?
The only person he had ever felt anything real for was Lily. The only person he had ever wanted was Lily. That hadn't changed.
Had it?
A fresh wave of bitterness crept into his chest as his mind conjured an image of her—laughing, eyes bright, looking at Potter the way she used to look at him.
Was that what they did? Was that how James made her feel?
A sharp, twisting pain lodged itself deep in his ribcage.
He had thought, maybe, over time, that his feelings for Lily might dull. That with distance, they might fade into something more manageable. But they hadn't. If anything, they had sharpened—become more potent, more painful.
And yet.
His fingers twitched slightly as his mind drifted back to the common room.
That hadn't been about Lily. That had been something else entirely.
It had started as curiosity—nothing more. He had caught fleeting images from Sia's mind before she had shut him out. Things that had surprised him. Things he hadn't expected. And he had wanted to see—to confirm—how she would react if he pushed.
But somewhere along the way, it had shifted.
She had leaned in—just barely, just a fraction—but it had been enough. Something unfamiliar had stirred inside him. Something that made him want to push further.
He didn't even know what exactly.
And that unsettled him.
He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what kind of person he was. There were no grand delusions that anyone would look at him and want—that. Not like they would with someone like Potter. Certainly not someone like Lily.
But when Sia's pulse had quickened beneath his fingertips, when her breath had caught, when she had struggled not to react—he had felt something he couldn't quite name.
And that was dangerous.
Severus exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as if he could scrub the memory from his mind.
It didn't matter.
It had only been an observation. A moment of control. A test.
And it would not happen again.
Whatever had unsettled him in the common room, whatever impulse had flared to life for those few seconds, he would bury it.
He had no use for distractions.
Especially ones that looked at him with wide, wary eyes—ones that made him want to break past that wariness just to see what lay beyond.
No.
He would not touch her again.
With that decision made, Severus extinguished the candle beside his bed with a flick of his wand, plunging the room into darkness.