The Snake and the Eagle

Chapter 11 - A Stolen Kiss

Now that Hogwarts's defences had been reinforced, they could all sleep more peacefully. The days passed one by one quite uneventful, following their daily routine. One of those ordinary days, Professors Snape and Falconbridge were spending their after-lunch break having a pleasant walk in the cloister, chatting.

"How is your afternoon today, Alexandra?" he casually asked her.

"Oh, nothing of special. Just a class at one o'clock, and then I have the whole afternoon free. And yours?" she said smiling to him.

"I have no more classes for today, but I'll have to spend my whole afternoon shut up in my office. I have hundreds of essays to mark before tomorrow ... I give you a good advice for your teaching career: never use homework as a punishment, it will turn against yourself in the end!" he said with an evident hint of frustration in his voice. She was sorry for him, and wanted to find something to cheer him up.

"Listen, Severus ... I could help you with the marking if you like? I have finished mine yesterday and have nothing else to do." Her proposal took him by surprised.

"I can't imagine a more boring way to waste one's free time. Are you sure you really want to do it?" he asked, arching a dubious eyebrow to her.

"Yes, I am. By the way, with you stuck in there all the time, my afternoon would probably be as boring as yours," she whispered in a flirting tone. He smirked amused to the idea that someone might find his company pleasant.

"Well, then. See you in my office at four o'clock," he muttered and they went back indoors.

For the first time in his whole teaching career, Snape looked forward to begin his marking. When the clock in his office struck four, she gently knocked on his office door. He let her in, and gestured her toward his working desk and to the chair he had set for her, opposite his own.

"I've divided the rolls in two groups, you take the first and second years and I take the rest," he instructed pushing the smaller group to her side of the desk, "if there's something you don't remember you can ask it to me, or look it up in those text books over there," he said in his usual cold voice.

Although they did not talk much while working, Snape found her presence there very pleasant. She easily ran through an essay after the other, but he was finding it a little hard to concentrate on his own work. In fact, he kept raising his eyes from the sheet in front of him to longly rest his gaze on her busy face, the smooth line of her wrist and her soft hand gently holding her quill. His gaze should have been more piercing than he had meant it to be because, at a certain point, she suddenly raised her gaze surprised to find those two black abysses fixed on her.

"Am I doing something wrong?" she asked, a little embarassed by the intensity of his gaze.

"No, sorry. Go on," he quickly said, startled by the sudden realization of what he had been doing for the last few minutes. He then forced his attention back to his work, trying to avoid falling in a similar foolish attitude again. They finished marking just in time to have dinner in the Great Hall.

***

St. Valentine's Day came, and the school enjoyed its romantic atmosphere with lighter hearts as the enemy had not given sign of himself yet. That year, it was not going to be a frivolous celebration like at Gilderoy Lockhart's times. No lurid pink flowers on the walls, nor heart shapped confetti raining fron the enchanted ceiling. This time, there were only little chocolate candy hearts wrapped in silver paper at each seat, a kind thought of the house-elves. Professor Sprout had charmed the rose bushes in the grounds to bloom out of season. Professor Falconbridge, as Charm teacher, bewitched the ceiling so that a rain of red roses petals slowly fell from it, but they disappered before they reached the tables, spreading a delicate scent all around the room. A beautiful illusion and a very clean one too, I would dare say!

Just after breakfast, hundreds of owls came rushing into the Great Hall, delivering Valentines and chocolate candy hearts to students and teachers. Harry received less valentines then the previous years. Maybe his The-Boy-Who-Lived's charm had slightly lost its effect now that he was not their "new celebrity" anymore. Ron and Hermione were both hiding an heart shaped card under their school robes, but they were too shy to swap them. Maybe later in the common room they would have found the courage. Gryffindors were known to be brave, but maybe not that brave whenever love was concerned.

There had been some nice surprise at the High Table. A very embarassed Professor McGonagall received an anonymous card which read "You really TURN ME on!", but she few doubts about the identity of the sender after she found a piece of sherbet lemon inside the envelope. Beautiful Professor Falconbridge received many cards from her students admirers and, even more surprising, Snape received some too. He was absolutely flabbergasted when he saw five owls landind in front of him, each with a card in its beak. He had completely forgotten the after-effects of the Yule Ball on his quotations among Hogwarts's female population.

That afternoon lessons were harder than ever, as students' minds were set on anything else but what their teachers were saying. Professor McGonagall glared at her students with pursed lips every time they transfigured something having the even vaguest shape of a heart. Like the lion on the Gryffindor crest, she felt like she was going to bite off some student's head before class was over. Things were not easier in Charms, where Professor Falconbridge was asked for the zillionth time to teach them some love charm.

"This is the last time I tell you ... I absolutely forbid you to use a love charm on human beings. You cannot play with people's feelings!" she said exasperated, "By the way, would you be satisfied to have a sweetheart, knowing that his or her love is only the affect of a stupid incantation?" she spat angrily, her hands resting on her hips.

"But how do you know if he really loves you?" asked an Hufflepuff girl.

"My dear ... Love has a magic of its own, that has nothing to do with real magic. If you want to know if he really loves you, the answer is in his kiss," she patiently explained with a kind smile.

Things were a little better down at Potions, as nobody dared ask Professor Snape how to brew a love potion. They were not so stupid or so suicide inclined to him a love potion, and then end up force-fed with poison by their teacher. An unusual thing happened when class was dismissed. Snape was bent on his desk gathering the essays the kids had just handed in, students were slowly emptying the chilly dungeon, when he looked up and saw that Vincent Crabbe was still there.

"What's the problem this time, Mr. Crabbe?" Snape said with annoyance.

"Hu ... Professor ... I wanted to ask you something?" Crabbe began timidly.

"Tell me, what is the question of the century?" Snape sneered with sarcasm, while he abondoned himself back in his chair.

"How do you know when ... hu ... you're in love?" the boy said blushing.

"Well, I'm not the most qualified person to give advises on love matters, as I'm 38 and still single. All the same, I'll try" Snape said with a smirk and an arched brow.

"Do you find yourself unconsciously staring at her without reason?"

"Yes"

"Do you always think about her?"

"Yes"

"Do you think she's the most beautiful woman on earth?"

"Yes"

"Is it your only wish to hold her and kiss her?"

"Yes," the boy automatically answered for the fourth time.

"Well, then you're in love. Now you can go and ... good luck," he whispered, amused by the funny happy expression on the puffy boy's face.

Classes ended earlier to give anyone the chance to enjoy the pleasant day, and possibly run to Hogsmeade to buy last-minute presents to give one's sweetheart before that night party. Professor Snape, having nothing at all to celebrate, spent his free time in the Forbidden Forest looking for some fresh potion ingredients. Walking along its winding paths by day was rather safe, because the many dark and dangerous creatures living in there were all asleep, so the scariest creature going around was none but a certain black-cloaked wizard we all well know. Snape was bent gathering some wild magical herbs among the roots of an old tree, when his eyes were caught by a beautiful flower he had not noticed at first sight. It was a wonderful wild, scarlet rose, sprout in the thick undergrowth. A ray of light fell on it, glorifying the bloody hue of its velvety petals.

Snape carefully put by the herbs he had in his hand, and stepped towards the flower to have a better look at it. He kneeled down and caressed the petals with his finger-tips. A sweet perfume rose to his nostrils, and he closed his eyes enjoying it. As soon as his eyes opened, he felt overwhelmed by the desire to pick that rose and give it to Alexandra. He was sure she would have loved it, but there was a problem: how could he possibly give it to her on a day like that? It was something too romantic for a man like him, and to be done on a that day! Not that he was not sensible enough, but he was trying hard to hide his feelings for her from anyone, even from himself. He suddenly heard the soft flapping of a pair of wings, his eyes shot up to see her falcon nicely perched on a branch, right above his head. He thought that was the answer to his unspoken questions, and a smile curled his lips.

"Silver, please come here!" he gently called the bird, who instantly flew down to land on his out stretched arm, "Take this rose to your mistress and I will give you a nice fat rat," he instructed it while stroking its feathers. The clever bird gave a short shriek, and dutifully offered him his paw for him to tie the rose to it. Then the bird took off through the tall trees, and Snape followed it with his eyes. In an instant, the falcon reached its mistress in her office. She was peacefully reading a poems book in her armchair, close to the open window.

"Do you have something for me, dear?" she tenderly asked to the falcon, as it landed on its perch. She was greatly amazed when she took the flower he was carrying. She caressed its petals with her finger-tips and smelled its delicate scent, with her eyes closed.

"Who sends it?" she inquired, but Silver had quickly flew back outside.

"Who on earth could it be?" she wondered. She knew she had no lover at the moment.

"Could it be ...?" she exclaimed in surprise as her thoughts went to her friend Severus, "No, it can't be him. Why should he ever do a thing like this on Valentine's day?" she muttered to herself, amused by the strangeness of that idea, and summoned a vase to put it on her desk.

***

Hogwarts enjoyed a peaceful feast. The food was delicious, as always, with the small addition of some heart-shaped cakes. After dinner, the long house tables were moved against the walls, leaving room for the students to dance on the notes of the most beautiful wizarding and Muggle romantic music. Teachers sat at the High Table, chatting and sipping a glass or two of red wine. They did not joined the students on the dance floor, though Dumbledore had, more than once, proposed Professor McGonagall to have a nice cheeck-to-cheeck, slow dance with him. Professor Snape, in spite of himself, was still sitting at his place next to Professor Falconbridge. He would have greatly preferred to run immediately to his beloved dangeons, as soon as dinner was over, but Dumbledore had practically obliged him to stay over to "socialize" a little.

Actually, he was doing nothing but sip his now third glass of wine, staring with disgust at the happy students holding hands or doing other sloppy things. He soon got bored, and tried to find something to entertain himself. He then chose to concentrate on the words of those disgusting romantic songs playing on and on. After a couple of minutes, to his great surprise, he realized that those songs were not that bad at all. He silently sat there listening, absent-mindedly tracing his mouth with a long, thin finger as he was used to do when in deep contemplation.

It was incredible how many of those songs described exactly what he felt for Alexandra. In a certain way, he deeply envied those who could easily open their hearts, and declare their feelings to the world. After so many years of conceling every single emotion, he found it disgustingly hard to show any intimate feeling apart from the evil ones. He could only silently sat there and swallow a fourth glass of wine at one gulp, blessing the dullness it gave him. To Snape's great relief, the party soon came to an end. He stood up too quickly, and had to grab his hands to the edge of the table to avoid losing his balance. He was not drunk, he could stand alcohol even more than Hagrid could, but all that wine had slightly affected his senses. Alexandra noticed his unsteady movement and approached him.

"Are you all right?" she genly asked resting her hand on his arm, "I'm afraid you may have drunk too much, let me take you to the dungeons," she kindly proposed.

"I can perfectly manage it by myself," he snarled, but another swaying movement betrayed him. She ignored his protests, and lead him downstairs to his private quarters. He resigned himself to accept her help, comforted by the thought that students were already gone, and no one would have seen him in that moment of weakness. He deeply hated to be weak!

Once they reached his rooms, a malicious thought crossed Snape's mind as they went in, closing the door behind them. He felt a little dull, but his mind was still perfectly clear but to her eyes he was actually drunk. He quickly thought that, if that night he said or did anything that could bother her, the morning after he could just pretend that he could not remember anything happened the previous night. She looked so beautiful with her pretty green velvet dress, rearly irresistable. It was a golden chance he could not absolutely waste. A nasty smirk lifted a corner of his lips.

"Here you are, safe at home. Really, Severus. Do you think getting drunk is a good way to celebrate Valentine's day?" she mildly scolded him. Those were the words he was waiting for!

"You're perfectly right ... I know a better way to do it," he said and, before she could even blink, he had his arms around her waist and shoulders, and his mouth pressed on hers.

At first, she struggled a little to escape his hold. But as soon as his lips began to caress hers she gave up any protest, surrending to that wonderful sensation. He was holding her tight enough to prevent her escape, but not that much to hurt her. Her eyes were wide-open with shock while his were languidly shut, not open like when he made fun of her in the staff room on Christmas Eve. He was putting his whole heart and soul in that kiss. If he had never been able to tell it with words, he was now making his feelings very clear.

"He's drunk and wont remember anything tomorrow ... so what can I loose?" she desperately thought, noticing the unmistakable rosiness the wine had given to his usually pale cheecks.

Once her initial surprise was over, she could not help but kiss him back, her heart beating madly. Her hand moved up to tangle her fingers in his long raven locks, a thing she had longed to do from the first time her eyes had rested on that black curtain. His gentle lips brushed softly on hers, almost teasing them, but now hers were answering to their call. The kiss was so intense that it sent tingles all the way to her toes. Then his lips increased their pressure, and began to taste her in a deeper kiss. She felt his hold around her losen slightly. It seemed like he was letting her decide if she wanted to push him away, before the kiss became more passionate, more intimate. She understood his signal, but she really had not had enough of his lips, she wanted more. She then pressed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He was delighted by her ready answer to his kiss, and wrapped his arms around her in a tight warm embrace, plunging an hand through her chestnut waves. She felt like she was going to melt in his arms. She slightly parted her lips to invite him to deepen the kiss, allowing him to smoothly slid his tongue into her mouth, exploring it, tasting it, almost memorizing it, engaging her tongue in a slow dance with his own. Their hearts were beating madly, and their passionate kiss sent shivers all through their bodies. They were so lost in their passion that the whole school could have rushed in and they would not have even noticed. Then their mouths parted, leaving them panting because of the long breathtaking kiss. They stood there staring at each other, both unable to speak. He reluctantly losened his hold and she slowly took a step backward towards the door.

"I ..." he began to speak.

"I must go!" she curtly said, before storming out of the room slamming the door behind her in her hurry.

She had been suddenly scared by the point things had gone. She was afraid they had gone too far, and now their friendship was spoiled forever. She felt ashamed to have taken advantage of a drunken man, or that is what she thought. The image of what had happened a few minutes before kept playing on and on in her mind, as she went up the long straircase leading to her rooms. Was he really drunk or was he just pretending? This was a question she kept repeating to herself, but she was too confused to find the right answer. She had kissed other men, sometimes only on the basis of physical attraction. But she had never felt such an overwhelming passion in a kiss before. There was no doubt he was a superb kisser, but could it all have been only a matter of physical attraction. She knew that one of Severus's greatest skill was to hide his emotions to the external world, but could he ever be so good as to fake feelings too? She was clueless, the only thing she could do was wait, and see him the following day paying more attention to his behaviour.

Meanwhile in the dungeon, Severus was beyond himself with joy for his first kiss to the woman he loved so much. Her response to his kiss had been much better than he had ever dared hope, but he was greatly confused by her weird reaction before leaving. She looked scared, had it all been too much for her? He knew he had taken her by surprise, maybe he got himself carried away and frightened her with the overwhelming intensity of his feelings for her.

"Will she still want to be my friend after what happened tonight?" he anxiously asked himself. "A kiss could mean nothing and anything at the same time, and she could have simply enjoyed the feel of it. Maybe that was why she looked so scared afterwards," he kept repeating to himself, trying to calm himself down a little.

"The only thing I can do is just pretend I was dead drunk, and fake the biggest day after amnesia in mankind history!" he smirked, founding it the perfect solution to the whole matter. When he went to bed he had finally mastered some control back. The only thing he was sure of was that, if he was going to die a minute after and go to hell, he would not have had any regret, because he already had had a taste of what paradise felt like. With that happy thought and the memory of the blissful sensation of her warm body against his own, and the delicious taste of her soft lips on his, he closed his eyes and peacefully fell asleep with a broad smile on his lips.

When they met the morning after for their usual ride, they both behaved as nothing had happened. At a certain point, while their horses walked side by side, she timidly asked him if he felt well after the drunkness of the previous night. He pretended to have a terrible day after headache, and to be unable to remember anything happened after dinner was over, right as it was expected in similar situations.

"Tell me, Alexandra. Did I say or do anything ... wrong while I was drunk?" he a calculated detached coldness. She blushed a little and fixed her eyes right before her, to better hide her shame.

"No, nothing," she lied, and suddenly spurred Nabil on to gallop to avoid further questions. He was greatly relieved by her denial, because it meant that things were still all right between them. He looked at her for a moment with an amused smirk, then followed her. He was positive that they were not going to mention the event again, and it was probably the best thing to do.