Falling Is Like This

CHAPTER 5: INERTIA CREEPS

The Christmas holidays ended, and the students returned reluctantly. Rosaline continued to help Snape in the dungeon for a few months, though far less frequently since the beginning of the new term. There were no surprises since the night she had dropped the salamander's blood. They worked quietly on the rare evenings when he requested her assistance, the tension between them delicate and unacknowledged outwardly. Rosaline did not dare to entertain the notion that Snape recognized her apprehension while she was in his presence, but alone, in her bed at night, her imagination ran off with her.

January, February, March, April; they all came and went. Rosaline's 18th birthday, the 7th of May, came amid the chaos of preparing for her N.E.W.T.S. Too frenzied to truly appreciate it, Rosaline barely recognized its passing, her mind consumed by Arithmancy and Charms. She and Anne spent many long nights, studying diligently, if unenthusiastically, in the Gryffindor common room. Still, her dreams haunted her, filled with the lingering scent of rosemary and the images of black silk and white skin. Rosaline pressed on, ignoring her instincts and desires.

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Rosaline could not sleep. She kicked back the sheets and climbed out of bed. Pulling her robe over her pyjamas against the slight chill of the spring night, she glided silently out of her dorm and down the stairs of Gryffindor Tower.

She ignored the protests of the Fat Lady and headed down towards the Prefect bath. She wasn't a prefect, nor had she ever been. Rosaline had merely cajoled Anne into revealing the location of the bathroom, along with the password. She had yet to use it - she had merely wanted to know about it in the event that she required it.

Slipping through the hidden door, Rosaline looked around in awe. The surprisingly large room was made entirely of white marble. The bathtub, if it could be called that, was the size of a small swimming pool, with about a hundred golden taps around its edges. Dropping her robe onto a comfortable looking chair in the corner, Rosaline returned to the edge of the pool and selected a faucet at random. Once turned on, large, pink bubbles began spewing out of it. Hastily, Rosaline turned it off, gagging on the over-powering scent of bubble-gum.

After a few false starts, Rosaline found a faucet that produced delicate purple suds, smelling faintly of lilac. As she waited for the huge tub to fill, she stripped, leaving her pyjamas on top of her robe. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, Rosaline dangled her feet in the rising water, smiling as the room became warmer, faint traces of steam rising gently into the air.

Finally, the tub full, the girl slid slowly into the hot water. Sighing with contentment, she began a lazy backstroke before simply floating, enjoying the feel of the water against her skin. Rosaline noticed the ceiling for the first time, a depiction of a summer's midday sky which, due to its clearly magical nature, moved in an unsurprisingly life-like manner. She amused herself with picking out shapes in the large fluffy clouds that floated past.

A while later, noticing her skin had begun to wrinkle, Rosaline climbed from the tub and padded over to the large pile of fluffy white towels in the corner. She dried off quickly and dressed, not bothering to dry her hair. With a flick of her wand, she banished the water from the bathtub, leaving it spotless. Re-entering the hallways, Rosaline wished she had worn shoes.

'Too late for that, I suppose,' she thought, 'but there's no reason why I shouldn't get a cup of tea.'

Rosaline headed back to the stairs, and started down, the kitchens her new destination.

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Snape sat in the small parlour of his chambers that night, in one of the tall backed chairs which faced the fireplace. His high collared black vest, white shirt, and robe had been draped carelessly on the other chair. He sat silently, staring into the fire, his right hand curled loosely around his leanly muscled left forearm. The light reflected in his black eyes, mirroring the emotions that flickered in their depths. He frowned, his thoughts darker than usual.

'She's a student,' he told himself, 'a girl. Albeit a brilliant, mature girl - my best student.'

His frown deepened into a grimace of disgust, and he ran a hand over his eyes, trying to banish the images that played in his mind. Her intense green eyes, full of defiance and a composure not generally found in one so young, as they met his on that fateful day in class when he had foolishly chosen to make an example of her by giving her the Securus Serum. If only he had never over-heard that absurd conversation she had with her blasted friend! If only he had never felt it necessary to kill whatever longing she had foolishly felt for him!

"If only,"he muttered.

More images and memories followed. The pride he had always felt when he marked her papers or exams, and the regret, tainted with anger, that she had been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin. That seductive smile she had flashed before she had kissed him. Her soft, eager lips. The first hints of longing he felt over the months following. His dark satisfaction at discerning a way in which he could spend time alone with her, and determine whether or not what he felt was real or imagined. The genuine concern he felt when she collapsed that night in the dungeons, after dropping the salamander blood. The way the smooth, ivory skin of her calf had felt in his hand. Her satin thighs.

Snape growled and stood up quickly, grabbing his robe. He strode out of his office and through his classroom, into the halls. He would walk for a while. That would help him clear his head. She was only a student and it was obscene to allow himself to think of her in this manner. He sneered unpleasantly as he imagined the look of horror and disgust which would grace her pretty face if she saw the fantasies which unfolded in his head. Wrapping his robe about himself, he fastened the buttons and glided silently down the hallway.

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Rosaline quietly closed the hidden door to the kitchens, smiling inwardly. The house-elves had almost fallen over themselves in their eagerness to serve her.

Chuckling, Rosaline wrapped her robe tight around her body and began trotting back towards Gryffindor tower, the stone floors cold under her bare feet. She had just reached the fickle staircases when a soft cough behind her caused her to freeze in her tracks. Turning slowly, Rosaline groaned inwardly at the sight of the tall, black-clad man before her.

"Miss Staunton,"he sneered, his eyes taking in her damp hair and bare feet, "I hope, for your sake, that there is a very good explanation for your being out of your dormitory after hours."

Rosaline managed a weak smile and nervously pushed her clinging strand of hair off her face. "I needed a cup of tea?"

Snape glared at her. "Wrong answer, Miss Staunton."

Stepping forward suddenly, the tall man wrapped a long-fingered hand around her upper arm. Rosaline gasped silently, and took a step back. Snape pulled her closer, causing her to stumble and fall against him. The girl looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and confusion, as well as another, darker emotion. Tentatively, she dug her fingers into the fabric of his robe, and, tightening her hands into fists, held on tightly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Snape looked down at the girl in surprise. He hadn't meant to pull her so hard, had he? His observant mind noted that she smelled faintly of lilacs. Releasing her arm, he attempted to take a step back. Rosaline's hands remained entwined in his robes, and he almost faltered. Glaring down at the girl, Snape sneered.

"Let go this instant,"he hissed. Rosaline stared up at him with unblinking eyes, eyes which seemed darker than normal. Snape refused to speculate on reasons why.

"You grabbed me first,"she said quietly.

Snape growled softly and wrapped his hands around shoulders, pulling her tight against him.

"Miss Staunton, you are an insufferable little brat who has no idea how dangerous it is to play with this sort of fire. I suggest you scamper off to your safe little bed while you still can,"he purred, his eyes dangerously cold.

Rosaline did not flinch. She met his gaze and kept it, unwilling to stand down, despite her obvious fear.

"I'm not a little girl, Professor,"she whispered.

Snape sneered, but did not let go.

"Oh, I think you are, Miss Staunton. You're a little girl who knows nothing of the world."

Rosaline scowled up at him and tightened her grip. He suppressed a gasp as he felt her nails digging into his chest through the material of his robe. Snape snarled and lowered his head further, till they were practically nose to nose. Still, Rosaline did not flinch.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Sight,"he hissed, and pushed her away.

Caught unawares, Rosaline released Snape's robe and tripped backwards. She landed hard and yelped in surprise. Snape stared at her coldly, his arms crossed across his chest. The girl stood slowly and shot him a venomous look before walking slowly, with dignity, up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Snape watcher her till she was out of sight, then turned on his heel and stalked back to the dungeons, consumed with fury and arousal.