No One's Lapdog

No One's Lapdog

Chapter seven

It was a cold but shifty sort of night; clouds drifted across the star-strewn sky. She walked briskly towards the Quidditch pitch, the thin layer of crisp, newly fallen snow crunching under her boots as she went. Extracting a key from her pocket, she locked herself in and retrieved the wooden crate containing the Quidditch balls. She walked out unto the middle of the pitch, releasing one of the struggling Bludgers as she mounted her broom and took off, rising high above the ground in one long sweeping movement. She could more sense than hear the Bludger closing in on her from behind. She turned in mid-air, swinging her bat forcefully. The Bludger shuddered violently at the severe impact and reeled off into the darkness. Excitement flooded her. Playing with a Bludger in the dark was a most dangerous game; not being able to see it till it came really close her acute senses were tested to their limits, trying to spot the ball before it smashed into her head or some other body part she couldn't afford to lose. But the risk of it was what made the game so worthwhile, what made her feel so extraordinarily alive.

The Bludger came soaring at her again, out of nowhere, intent on crushing her. But with her excellent reflexes, she was ready and sent it flying, swinging her club over her shoulder. Urging the broom forward, she picked up speed and gained more height, frequently pulling into dives and changing directions to outsmart the bewitched ball. The bitingly cold air made her face smart, but she hardly noticed.

Pulling into one of her dives, she was distracted by something moving far down below. A hooded figure was walking slowly out unto the middle of the pitch, watching her intently. There was something oddly familiar about its prowling walk. She pulled the broom up under her to get a better view. Almost immediately she heard the swishing sound of the Bludger pelting towards her. With a jolt she realised she did not have time to swing her bat. Instinctively she threw herself sideways in a sloth grip roll. It was a close call; she could feel the Bludger brush her knuckles as it streaked by. She heaved herself back up on her broom. Pulling up, the Bludger turned and came for her again. This time she was ready, and swung the bat expertly, sending it spinning on a new course.

She turned her broom around and headed for the stranger. As she came closer to the ground, she could feel the ball tailing her again. She adjusted her speed slightly so that she could make a controlled catch. Seconds before she reached the ground, she turned swiftly and grasped the Bludger now only inches away from her back. Clutching it tightly under one arm while holding her club in the other, she landed smoothly on the frosty lawn. Being able to make a controlled landing with no hands on the broom handle was the mark of a good Beater. And Rowena didn't mind showing off now and then. Not that it was her intention to do so. She walked unhurriedly over to the wooden crate and strapped down the ball, then turned to face the newcomer. He lowered his hood, exposing black, shoulder-length hair, a large hooked nose and black, piercing eyes.

'Snape!' She bowed slightly in greeting.

'Mulligan.' He did not look pleased. 'I'd like to hear you explain what you're doing out on the Quidditch pitch in the middle of the night.'

'Can't figure that out for yourself, Snape?' she retorted. 'I'm playing Quidditch, what else?'

He scowled.

'More likely getting yourself in serious trouble, Mulligan. Find it amusing playing dangerous games, putting yourself at risk, leaving to others to worry about your safety, do you?'

'Why so protective all of a sudden?' Rowena snapped, her temper rising. 'It's not like you care whether I live or die.'

Snape's face turned pale.

'That's not for you to decide, Mulligan. Do not speak so boldly about matters you do not understand,' he whispered dangerously.

Puzzled by his answer, Rowena hesitated slightly, then pulled herself back together.

'How come you knew I was here? Have you been spying on me?'

He smirked.

'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mulligan, but I do have more pressing matters on my mind than to monitor your every whim. On second thoughts though, tonight proves it a matter of necessity to have someone tailing you, seeing how you're incapable of judging your own actions as not only irresponsible but downright fool-hardy.'

Snape paused, relishing the sight of Rowena's face turning crimson, before he continued,

'If you must know, I was going about my usual inspection when I noticed the main door in the Entrance Hall standing ajar. It doesn't take a mastermind to figure out someone was out of bounds. Your footprints in the snow led me straight here.'

'Well,' Rowena said grumpily, 'I happen to have permission from Madam Hooch to practise Quidditch at my own leisure, in turn I'm helping her out with an occasional flying lesson, so - happy?'

Frowning, he replied,

'I'm not happy, Mulligan, and I think I'm right Madam Hooch wouldn't be either if she knew you're out here trying to kill yourself at dead of night!'

Rowena pulled a face at him.

'Leave it, will you?'

He raised his eyebrows at her.

'Leave it?' he hissed softly. 'I'm surprised you don't know me better by now, Mulligan.'

She opened her mouth to retaliate, then closed it again, something finally snapping into place in her mind. Why, she DID know him! He had just answered the question she had been worrying about since the incident in the Three Broomsticks. Whatever she did, Snape would never turn into her lapdog. He would never take orders from her, not even a simple request to leave her alone... She smiled, realizing she liked him that way, loved the challenge he posed, however irritating she found him at times.

'What?' he snapped.

'Nothing. It's just that - never mind. It's - nothing.'

'Nothing, eh?' He shot an annoyed look at her.

'That's right,' she replied firmly. 'Believe me, you don't wanna know.'

He rolled his eyes.

'Women!' he hissed under his breath.

'I heard that!' Rowena cried angrily. She drew herself up to her full height, positively fuming. 'Sometimes I - I don't know whether to - love you or hate you!' Rowena spluttered exasperatedly.

Snape just stared silently at her, an odd expression on his face, fuelling her fury even more.

'You're so - so... ,' she stuttered, enraged.

Suddenly, without warning, Snape jabbed his wand at her throat, muttering,

'Silencio!'

The sound of her voice was instantly cut off. She flashed her eyes angrily at him.

See what I mean! You just - think you can...

'Shut up!' Snape hissed softly at her silent protests.

Then he did something that made Rowena's heart skip several beats. He swooped down on her and kissed her, his lips lingering for a couple of seconds before he abruptly stepped back from her. His lips felt strong and oddly hot. She'd have expected them to feel cold. Cold, with anger. But instead they were hot. Hot, with... No, it couldn't be. But why would he kiss her if he didn't like her? Rigid with shock and confusion she stared completely dumbstruck at Snape, vaguely noticing he looked almost as unhinged as she did. Catching his eyes, she saw the familiar reaction whenever he thought she was about to disclose his thoughts and emotions; a fearsome, uncertain flicker of shadows played across his black eyes, and all of a sudden his expression went blank. Giving Rowena one last, inscrutable stare, Snape turned on his heels and set off at a quick pace in the direction of the castle.

Oh no, you're not leaving! Rowena thought hotly. She slashed her wand menacingly. The red beam shot from her wand-tip and soared right past him, so close it singed his hair. Snape froze in his steps, turning towards her with his teeth bared in an angry snarl.

'What?'

Rowena raised her wand again, but this time just pointed it at Snape and then at her own throat, asking him to free her of the Silencing Charm. Snape jabbed his wand irritably at her, muttering under his breath. Finding her voice, Rowena said hoarsely,

'You're not leaving.'

Snape's lip curled.

'And why is that?'

'Because I'm challenging you to a duelling match.' She looked stubbornly at him. 'If you don't mind?'

He looked slightly taken aback. Then said coldly,

'Not at all.'

'And if I win...'

Rowena paused, allowing herself to take a deep breath. What did she want most of all? She wanted to get closer to the incredibly annoying, stupid git standing in front of her, to get under his skin, to learn to know him like no one else had ever done...

'If I win - I get a second kiss.'

Her voice trembled slightly, her cheeks on fire. She could hear Snape's sharp intake of breath as he involuntary took one step backwards, as if he was encountering an enemy he was not prepared to face. After a painfully long pause, he finally said in a strained voice,

'Very well.'

Avoiding her eyes, his face taut, he looked as if he would rather face a sentence in Azkaban. Rowena couldn't help herself but smile. She had never before met anybody so scared of expressing his feelings, so terrified of being intimate, even plain friendly. Careful to avoid eye contact with Snape, she thought, would she ever be able to earn his trust, causing that strong fortress of his to open its gates wide for her to enter? And that kiss, was it some sort of turning point?

'You have no subtlety, Potter,' said Snape, his dark eyes glittering.

'You do not understand fine distinctions. It is one of the shortcomings

that makes you such a lamentable potion-maker.'

(OotP p. 468 Bloomsbury)

Gritting their teeth in concentration, they started circling each other, wands raised, like they had done on innumerable occasions before. But this time was different. They were silent, not spending valuable energy in shouting, taunting or laughing at each other. Snape, his complexion a bit paler than usual, followed her warily with his eyes, anticipating her next move. She had the fleeting impression he almost seemed reluctant to jinx her. His eyes glittered strangely, an odd assortment of shadows moving in their depths, making it hard to interpret what was going on in his mind. Her stomach moved uneasily. She wanted to win. She wanted to feel Snape's warm and strong lips meeting hers again, to look into his awesome, glittering black eyes, opening up her mind to him, allowing her to enter his. The thought of it scared her senseless, but despite her fear she couldn't let go of the wild hope that was burning inside her. She wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

It felt like the duelling match went on forever and ever, especially since none of them seemed to be able to enjoy it like they usually did. Rowena was starting to feel deadly tired, and had half a mind to call it off when Snape at last pinned her with a Stupefying spell. As she felt herself falling to the ground, half of her was relieved that it was finally over, that Snape had won the duelling match. But the other half of her felt disappointment washing over her like a great wave. Sometimes she wondered whether she really hated him more than she loved him, but that kiss had made her want more. And if it meant he somehow was returning her feelings... She cursed silently under her breath.

She looked up at the sky. Clouds were moving shiftily, hiding most of the starry sky, making the grounds look darker than usual, reflecting her mood. Then a different sort of shadow moved between her and the sky. It was Snape standing over her, lifting her of his spell. She got up awkwardly, brushing snow off her cloak as she did. Embarrassed, she avoided looking at him and muttered sheepishly,

'Well, nice - duel. See you tomorrow.'

She turned to leave, then remembered. They always shook hands at the end of duels, confirming their friendship. She turned back, her hand outstretched, still not meeting his eyes. She could feel him accepting her hand.

But instead of letting go of her hand as usual, he held on to it, maintaining his grip. Confused, she finally looked up into his face. He was gazing calmly back at her, studying her silently. She blinked nervously, feeling her face starting to burn again. Looking into his intimidating black eyes, she felt strangely weak and vulnerable. She trembled slightly.

What do you want from me - Severus?

The question forced its way across her mind before she could stop it. Something moved in the black depths of his eyes. She could sense a distinct answer forming inside her head, made up of words not her own.

What do I want? For a start, that second kiss you just denied me by failing so dismally in winning this match - Rowena.

Her heart made a huge leap in her chest, not quite daring to believe what she had just heard him communicate to her in her mind. Then she spotted the familiar flicker of uncertainty and shyness moving across his face, but instead of putting up his defences to hide his feelings, his face was set, his black eyes for once looking bravely and determinedly back at her in what was unmistakeably a soft, warm gaze.

She felt giddy.

I - how can I believe you?

The answer formed in her mind almost before she had finished thinking it.

That's simple: Trust me.

A small but sincere smile played across his pallid face.

She started. Severus Snape, smiling friendly at her?

Trust you? But - don't you hate me?

He frowned.

Don't be thick Rowena. Subtlety is, according to my observations, not a virtue you generally possess in large quantities, but to me - it is a necessary skill, an art form, a way of life. I usually don't flag my intentions openly, as I'm sure even you must have noticed by now. He paused, his dark eyes never leaving hers. For a long time I had no reason to believe you could possibly care for, well, in your own words; an 'ugly git' like me. And I just couldn't - didn't know how to let you know... he winced ... I love you.

She could see his face going paler than she had ever seen it. It took all his strength and courage to speak those words. Her mind went momentarily blank, his words made her dizzy. Finally she found enough strength to ask the one question she had been bothered about for a long time.

'Er, your feelings for - me... Does it explain why our minds are able to communicate without words? Is it because we're some kind of - soul mates?'

Snape flinched horribly at her last word and his face turned into an ugly grimace.

Rowena almost laughed, but checked herself just in time. Of course, a fluffy and romantic notion like 'soul mate' did not sit too well with Snape. As a matter of fact, he couldn't have looked sulkier. But it did not escape her attention that he did not deny it. Despite the cold, she suddenly felt quite warm. She decided it would be wise not to press the matter further. Instead another question moved timidly across her mind.

You ask me to trust you. Will you ever be able to trust - me?

Scowling slightly at her, he replied impatiently,

I am, or I wouldn't be standing here, way past bedtime, spilling out my secrets to a fool, would I? His eyes glittered. Enough talk.

He raised his hand tentatively, softly tracing the outline of her face, making her shiver in anticipation. When their lips finally met, he had to support her to prevent her knees from buckling underneath her.

She wanted the kiss to last forever. It was rather - awkward at first, but remembering they were supposed to trust each other, they relaxed, and the kiss ended up so tender, so sweet, so passionate. When they at last broke apart, Snape rested those strangely beautiful black eyes on her, smiling teasingly.

'Still friends?'

She returned his smile.

'Friends.' More than friends.

He looked proudly at her for a moment.

'By the way, you're an excellent Beater,' he said softly. 'Good night.'

He turned and walked away, and this time she let him, just standing silently watching him go. Lapdog, my word! Nobody owns you, Severus Snape, Rowena mused. And I love you for it. She paused, following him with her gaze. As a matter of fact, despite everything, I guess I've always loved you.

Snape turned once to look back at her, with that rare smile on his face. Then he resumed his walk, his proud head held high, his black cloak billowing impressively around his body.

And thanks for the kiss and your first compliment ever.

Bursting with emotion and happiness, Rowena lashed out her wand at the nearest Quidditch stands, making the seats rattle loudly; she just had to unleash some of the steam that was building up inside her. She knew the sensible course of action would be to go inside, but she couldn't sleep anyway. And, she noticed, the moon was finally out from behind the clouds; she'd have better visibility. Releasing the struggling Bludger for the second time that night, she mounted her broom, and with her club poised and ready, she kicked off hard and soared into the air, happily feeling the cold wind in her face. Zooming around the moonlit Quidditch pitch, she gave the Bludger such a severe beating it had never before encountered the likes of it, and to tell you the truth, nor did it live to tell the tale.

to really love a woman

to understand her - you gotta know her deep inside

hear every thought - see every dream

n'give her wings - when she wants to fly

(from Bryan Adams's 'Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman')