Black Roses

Chapter Five: A Resurgence of Past Dramas

From being startled so badly, Talitha backed up into the couch and fell on it. As her head bounced on it, one thought rang in her mind: Run away. She knew she wasn't going to do that. She shouldn't have been alarmed so badly. But she was fuming slightly and not paying attention where she was walking.

And it doesn't help when you run into a former Death Eater you captured. She scrambled off of the couch and grabbed her wand. Her breathing was erratic and strands of her black hair hung in her pale face that was slowly returning to colour.

As awkward as the silence was for Talitha, it was much worse for Severus Snape. Here was the girl that he hadn't seen for thirteen years--the girl that he had liked so much at Hogwarts--the girl that he couldn't have--the woman that caught him.

After they had released him, he had never seen her again. She had disappeared in her work. How could he explain it all to her? What he had done? What he thought would happen? For all of those years, Talitha Black's last words had ringed in his mind after that moment.

~*~

June 20^th, 1978

He was in his compartment alone. His "friends" were teasing some Third Years for the last time. They were all on the way back home, school had finally ended. He was seventeen and last night had been his last day as a Seventh Year at Hogwarts. It was all finally over.

But he was not so happy. There would be so many people that he would miss and probably never see again. One in particular stuck in his mind when he heard her laughter near his compartment. The churning feeling in his gut came back again. The compartment door opened and the laughter went silent. He pushed the feeling away purposely and smirked as he stood up.

"Hello, Talitha," Severus Snape said smugly. As the sixteen year-old girl stared at him; he took a few steps toward her. "You know, I won't be here next year. Will you miss me? I know you will..."

Talitha's mind was telling her to run away--to get out of there--but it seemed as though her feet were stuck to the ground. She was completely immobile--and terrified--as Snape put his hand on her cheek. It was cold; she shuddered.

"I'm quite alone in here, why don't you come in here and give me some company," Snape said. It wasn't really a question; it was more like an order. He put his arm around her waist and pulled her in. Her mind jerked to life again.

"No, I don't think I want to," Talitha replied quickly. She pushed his arm off of her waist and turned around to walk out. However, Snape wasn't going to let her go so quickly--not yet; not this last time. He shut the compartment door right in front of her face and locked it. She wanted to scream, but didn't. Instead, she turned around to face him. "Open the door, Snape; I'm not in the mood for this type of your play."

"I'm not playing anymore, Talitha," Snape hissed. Talitha didn't like his tone; it frightened her. She took an involuntary step back and hit the compartment door. The way this was turning out...she was getting angry. She was in Gryffindor--she was brave...but she was scared right now. He had the upper hand.

"Just...let me out now," Talitha replied rather angrily. He took a step towards her.

"No," he simply said. She narrowed her eyes dangerously and clenched her fists. Slowly, her anger was building up. "I haven't been serious enough with this, and this might be the last time I see you. It's now or never."

"Try never," Talitha growled furiously. He took another step towards her. She had the fleeting feeling that she wanted to step back again, but the door was in her way.

"I'm trying now," Snape whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes and lost the ability to scream as his lips worked his way up her neck to her lips. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to fight. She wanted to faint. She wanted to run away. She wanted to hex him. With all of this on her mind, her knees buckled and she fell right back into his arms.

"Stop it..." she whimpered. "I...I don't like this." He stopped and looked her straight in the eyes. She hated those eyes, so hungry and happy. Her eyes were so furious and scared.

"Why don't you?" he asked her quietly, his face only inches from hers. She backed into the wall again and he got closer. She could feel his breath on her.

"Because...I'm scared..."

"I can take the fear away," he told her with his lips against hers. She didn't like it. She just wanted him to leave him alone. She put her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

"No, you can't...because you are the fear..." The silence was deafening. He gazed at her; she looked down at the ground. She turned to the compartment door and grasped it. His chance was slipping from him. Before she could unlock it, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her back into him.

"I'm not letting you go," he whispered in her ear. He worked his way up to her lips again and she shivered. She just wanted to go. She just wanted to fight back. He moved his hands on her. She found the courage to fight back. She pushed him away and glared at him. He took a step back and watched her walk out of the compartment. She slammed the door in his face. She was gone. Just like that, she had walked out of his life...

He had been denied her, and he would never get it. He wanted her so much, but she would never have him; her older brother wouldn't let him have her either. He had fallen for the untouchable girl. Her last words ringing in his mind over and over again. He frightened her. And because of it, she was gone...

~*~

Snape had to keep his calm. He had to act like it was nothing. He act to act cold and cool like he did with everyone else--but she wasn't everyone else. She was Talitha Black. And he was Severus Snape. This was a big thing.

He didn't know if he'd be able to act normal again. The memory of his capture had not been happy. It had been his mistake. He had been sulking on his pitiful life, drunk and depressed--not a very good combination. He just needed a little life...his mistake.

~*~

August 22^nd, 1982

It was late in the hours at The Three Broomsticks. There were still many people though. At this hour in the morning, they were the worst sort of people. People who were deceiving and dark; people who did underhanded things behind other people's back; terrible people who were evil; dark people who were angry were there, busy drinking their lives away and talking.

He was just another face in the crowd. He went unknown and uncared for. He merely sat at the bar; putting what life he had in the trust of his eleventh shot of Fire Whiskey. He wasn't going for any record; he just wanted to numb his brain senseless, or so it seemed that way. He poured the Fire Whiskey down his throat easily and sat it down on the counter. He called for another and the bartender complied quickly. If he was drunk enough, he might give a good tip. He just wanted to lose himself in the whiskey...he just wanted to sink into a deep sleep.

The front door opened and the wind blew in. The noise of the rain came quickly and then disappeared when the door shut. He really didn't care who came in, but in his drunken state, he looked back anyway. And he saw her.

She took her hat off and her long black hair came crashing down. It bounced up in the air as she walked and shook any water out of it. She combed her fingers through her hair and shook her head. Her hair flew across her face and back into place. He looked around the room and saw that he was not the only one watching her closely. She took her large black cloak off and continued to search for a seat. She was wearing Muggle clothing, but through his drunken haze, he couldn't care less. She was beautiful. Her cream coloured skin blended in. She was wearing jean shorts and an extended long-sleeve blue sweater that didn't cover her shoulders.

The only seat at the bar was next to him and she didn't seem to care. She put her cloak on the back of the chair and collapsed into it. She put her elbows on the bar and put her fingers in her hair. She exhaled, feeling frustrated.

"Hey, I'm Ssseverusss," he slurred with a grin. It suddenly felt as though there was one thing in his life that meant something. She looked up at him.

"Hello..." was all she said. She didn't recognize that name and she didn't recognize his face either. He was just another face in the crowd, after all. He was just another guy who tried to get to her. She just wanted to be left alone. She'd had a very rough day at work with the men from her office and the whispering was getting so terrible. The looks they gave her; the whispers about her; the flinches when they heard her name; the accusing of her. It was all too much for her today.

"How 'bout I buy yyyou a drink," he said.

"Go ahead if you want to..." She just didn't care. She was ready to drink the day away. She usually wasn't the type to drink, but she needed something to ice her nerves down. The bartender walked up to their side of the table.

"Three fire whisskeysss," he ordered.

"Coming right up," the bartender replied. He left and then came back, pushing the three shots of Fire Whiskey towards them. He took one and drank it quickly. She took one and then took a swig of it all. She sat it down on the bar table and did the same to the other. She raised her finger in the air and got another. She drained it.

"Whoo, three alreadyyy down the drain," he whistled with a larger grin. She sighed and took a deep breath. "Todayyy mussst've been rough for yyyou."

"You have no idea," she murmured. "They just can't accept me at work. I'm an outcast right now and I've lost everything. My life is turned upside down and...I'm all alone. I turned my back on my family two years ago; what family I didn't turn on are either dead or in Azkaban; my friends are all dead or have turned their backs on me. My co-workers despise me and fear me. I'm the gossip topic of the month. I've been suspended because of suspicion. My life is crumbling right underneath my feet..."

He nodded his head sympathetically. "I understand completely," he told her. "I lossst my job; my family iis gone; my friendsss have dessserted me; I am alone." She got another Fire Whiskey and drank it. He did the same to his new shot. That was number fourteen. He didn't know if he could have anymore. He was sweating and feeling slightly sick. All common sense was lost.

"Sometimes I think that I was put on this earth just to suffer," she mumbled.

"We all have to sssuffer," he whispered. She gazed into his eyes and sighed. He had a grin on his face. She looked back down at her empty shots.

"I guess I just get the left over pain too," she murmured. She ordered another shot and poured it in her mouth. She ordered another and left it sitting on the counter for some time. "I'm not even sure if there's anything left to live for in my life. I've lost it all." Some of her hair fell in her face. He grinned and tucked the loose strands of black hair behind her ear. She was losing her common sense slowly. She took the Fire Whiskey and drank it.

"I can make the pain go away," he whispered in her ear. She drank another Fire Whiskey and it all just fell into his hands.

"Go ahead if you want..." He grinned and got out of his chair. He was surprised to find that he was sturdy and could actually walk without falling. She got out of her chair rather clumsily. She wasn't use to drinking and the effects were worse on her without drinking a lot. She grabbed her cloak and walked out with him...

Through the snogging, he felt for her clothes. He pushed her against the wall and she fumbled a little. Her walking wasn't the best after she drank. With his lips still pressed against hers, he pulled his robe off. That was a mistake. As he kissed her neck, she looked down and saw it. Immediately, she jerked out of his arms in shock.

"What?" he asked, stepping towards her. She took another step back and her legs hit the bed. She awkwardly fell on it. He took another step for her. She rolled off of the bed to the other side. She stood up ineptly. "What's wrong?"

"You're a--you're a--" she stammered with her eyes wide with fear. "I almost--" She put her hands up to her mouth and rocked back and forth. She pulled her sweater up a little more and looked around the room for her cloak.

"I'm a what? What did you almost do?" He asked her, walking for her. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she couldn't breathe anymore. "What's wrong?" He kissed her cheek lightly. She closed her eyes and shivered. He pushed her sweater down a little more as he connected with her lips.

"Stop it..." she whimpered. "I...I don't like this." He immediately stopped and took a step back. He turned her around to face him. He looked down into her eyes.

"Who are you?" he questioned. He looked into her eyes, as though they would tell him who this mystery woman was. And they did. He saw the fear in them. "Talitha..." He let go of her and she took a step back.

"You're a...you're a..." She couldn't get it out of her mouth. "I didn't think you would...you did..."

"What? What am I?" he questioned her. He took a step towards her and she jumped back. He gazed at her intently.

"You're a Death Eater! And you're...you're Severus Snape!" she squealed in terror. He suddenly remembered that he used to be one, but he still had the mark. He looked down at his arm and saw the black Dark Mark on it. He suddenly realized that she was afraid of him because of that. "I didn't think that you would turn dark! I thought you were at least smart enough not to! I guess I wasn't smart enough...and definitely not smart enough to get this close to you."

"Talitha, I'm not like that anymore," he pleaded as he advanced on her. She pulled her wand out of her cloak pocket and he slowed down. He kept walking toward her, trying to calm her down and explain himself...somehow.

"Stop!" She ordered. "You're a Death Eater, huh? Well guess what; I'm an Auror." He immediately froze in his steps. She was an Auror...it was her job to get Dark Wizards off of the streets and to stop crime. He used to be a Dark Wizard, but technically, he was still a Death Eater.

"Talitha...I'm not like that anymore," he told her quietly.

"And I'm not afraid of you anymore," she whispered. "Don't Apparate because I will find you. Do you really want to live your life on the run and"--she looked over him--"in your boxers?" He looked down at himself and sighed. He couldn't escape, not like this anyway. She snapped her wand at him again.

"Okay, get your robes on," she ordered firmly.

"And then what?" he asked.

"And then we go to the Ministry of Magic," she whispered. He glared at her and she glared back. He pulled his robes on and she grabbed him. In the blink of an eye, they had Apparated to the Ministry of Magic. The damage was done...

~*~

Talitha took a deep breath and lowered her wand. She pocketed it calmly and returned to her cool state. She shook the hair out of her eyes, still frowning. "I guess you were telling the truth," she blurted.

"I prefer a simple 'Hello'," Snape replied icily.

"Hello?" Talitha said cockily. He glared at her. She sighed. "You might want to at least try and get use to me. I'm in the Order of the Phoenix and I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. See you in the meeting." She turned to walk away.

"What?" Snape replied. His jaw almost dropped. She was the new professor. They'd have to work in such close quarters. She was in the Order. He didn't know if he could do it. She stopped and turned around to smile politely at him. It wasn't the same smile he'd missed, but it was still a stunning smile, all the same.

"Yes...Dumbledore forgot to mention you were the Potions professor, but I should've known that already," Talitha said thoughtfully. "Okay, so I've had a rough day as it is already; I don't need you to make it any worse."

"Who says I'll make it any worse?" he snapped. She continued to smile politely and cocked her head. She opened her mouth and looked down to the left. Then, she looked straight at him, her eyes burning, and her grin still on her face.

"Our last meeting didn't go as well as you planned," Talitha sighed. "I don't doubt that you probably dislike me with great intensity, but it's fair enough. Just don't go messing with my head or me right now. I am definitely not in the mood."

It was Snape's turn to grin nastily. Her smile disappeared, but she did not frown or scowl. Instead, she looked calm. "Oh, why's that?" he teased her. "Did some big, nasty guy scare you at work?" Something flickered dangerously in her eyes. He frowned.

"Yes, in fact someone did scare the crap out of me today," Talitha said crossly. She was getting a little frustrated with this man and he was getting the same with her.

"Who was it?" Snape asked her, as though he really didn't care--when, in fact, he did.

"Oh, just an old pal of yours," Talitha said. "Lucius Malfoy, remember him? He likes to stop by now and then, asking for Sirius."

His frown deepened and he bit his lip. She knew just where to cut him; just where it would hurt him. Of course, he hadn't done much in the past to help her either. He supposed that he deserved that. "Very old, indeed..." Snape muttered.

"Of course," Talitha said playfully. She turned around and stopped. She looked back at him with a mischievous grin tugging at her soft lips. "You might want to close that mouth up; you're starting to drool."

He immediately closed his mouth and her grin broadened.

"Nice chatting with you, Snape," Talitha said with the air of joy. She turned around and continued to walk up the steps, heading for her room. He continued to watch her, memories of her jogging through his mind. She had grown up to be quite a cocky and stunning woman. He supposed that's what happened when you were left alone for years and pushed around.

Sirius walked through the kitchen door and saw Snape gaping at Talitha as she walked up the stairs for her bedroom. He scowled madly. Remus walked through. He glared angrily.

"I may not be able to hex you anymore, but don't you even think about my sister like that!" Sirius growled angrily, advancing on him. Snape scowled at Sirius, who got in his face. "Of course, I can always settle it like Muggles do."

"I have no pleasure in watching your sister anymore," Snape lied coldly. Remus clenched his fists together. Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Don't give me that crap," he snarled spitefully. "I can see it in your eyes when you look at her. You haven't changed a bit."

"I've changed a lot," Snape muttered angrily. They glared at each other with malice.

"You may be a former Death Eater, but you're still like the guy I knew back then," Sirius hissed. "I know you better than you think. The way you look at her--it disgusts me. She deserves better than someone like you."

"Like Lupin?" Snape chuckled.

"Shut up!" Remus yelled.

"Make me!" Snape shouted. Mrs. Weasley burst through the kitchen and growled at the three of them. She rolled her eyes. Remus started over for him with his fists clenched tightly.

"Alright, I will!" Sirius yelled, grabbing Snape's shirt collar viciously.

"I wasn't talking to you!" Snape growled, tightening his fists.

"Be quiet, all of you!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked with her hands in the air. They went silent and looked at her. She calmed herself down and took a deep breath. "You're all supposed to be civilized men, but you're at each other's throats. Really, you're acting like children again. You are not in school anymore; you are in the Order of the Phoenix! You may not be the best of friends, but you cannot be the worst of enemies. We must be unified to defeat You-Know-Who!"

She sighed with much frustration, rounded on her heels, and stomped into the kitchen.

"What was Dumbledore thinking when he said they could get along...?" they heard her mutter before disappearing completely into the kitchen. Sirius let go of Snape and glared at him. He glanced at Remus and stalked off into the kitchen. Remus frowned and began walking up the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Snape called. He had a thought of where he might be going, and he didn't quite like it much.

"The restroom," Remus murmured. It was a lie, of course. He wasn't going to the restroom. He was going to Talitha's room to talk to her, but he didn't want Snape to know. It wasn't that what he had said about him hurt; it was how he said it. He laughed it out. Maybe he didn't deserve her... Maybe she deserved better... The more he thought about it, the more it seemed right.