Snape In Love

Chapter 3

I awoke several times during that night, and each time it seemed as if he had been there, watching over me, for he was always ready with another goblet of the potion, which I drank greedily. Finally I awoke to find that it was late morning, and I was alone. I felt refreshed, and eager to take a closer look at my surroundings. Apart from the large bed, which was carved out with an intricate design of leaves and plants, the room contained a large escritoire, a dresser and wardrobe all to match. A large fireplace dominated one wall, with a well-used brown leather armchair at the side. A matching footstool sat on a large white fur rug before the fire.

I was pleasantly surprised at the comfort of the room, which seemed to be at odds with his ascetic reputation. The implication that he did, indeed, desire material comforts heartened me, and strengthened my new-found resolve to discover what other desires he might have.

I got out of his bed, gingerly putting weight on my twisted ankle, and hobbled over to his chair. As I sat I could feel the imprint of his body in the old leather, moulded over the years to the contours of his legs and back. I sighed and closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him that lingered on the scuffed leather. There was more to him, far more, than his reputation allowed, and I was determined to discover it. As I shifted position slightly, I noticed how my body had betrayed me in its reaction to his nearness, and I smiled to myself. How I desired him!

I was soon brought back down to earth when he re-entered the room.

"Ah, you are up. And you can walk, evidently." His froideur had returned, I noticed, now that I no longer appeared to need his care.

"Er...yes, with some difficulty" I admitted with a small smile which was not returned.

"You will want to go back to your own rooms now," he averred. "Let me help you to your feet. I'll take you back. We wouldn't want you to have another accident on the way, now, would we?" he added sarcastically

I stood with difficulty, not least because of his proximity, and found myself standing not inches from him, my hand on his chest as I sought balance, my breasts brushing against his robes through my thin blouse. He looked at me intently for a moment, before looking away. Supporting my weight, he led me in to his office, where Madam Pomfrey had thoughtfully left me a crutch in readiness for this eventuality.

We walked to my door in silence, and once safely there, he turned on his heel, saying,

"I have a lot to do. You've kept me from my work." Before I could thank him, he was gone. I leant against the doorjamb, and sighed. Getting through to him was not going to be easy and yet...I imagined that I had seen a flicker of desire in his eyes. Unless it was simply a reflection of my own.

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Ah, such memories. Without warning, I was snapped out of my reverie at the sound of a familiar and beloved voice.

"You never cease to surprise me. I would not have expected your...tastes... to extend to such a frivolous confection as that," he said dryly, casting an ironic glance and a raised eyebrow at the melted ice cream. My tone matching his, I succeeded in keeping a tremor from my voice as I replied,

"I didn't think you were interested in my....tastes... Professor Snape."

I was shaken to the core by his sudden appearance at my side, and tried to compose myself as he took a seat opposite me. His eyes glittered, but he made no reply.

"Have you been well?" he enquired.

"I have been busy," I countered.

"That isn't what I asked"

I looked at him levelly. "And you? What brings you here today?" I asked.

"I had...business to attend to. Supplies to buy."

"You were following someone," I said, matter-of-factly. His eyes flashed angrily.

"Don't be so indiscreet!" he hissed. "Anyone could be listening!"

I remained impassive. I did not want to feel intimidated by him. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, speaking urgently in an undertone:

"I have taken a room at the Leaky Cauldron. Join me there in half an hour."

I threw back my head and laughed at his sheer gall.

"What?" he asked, affronted.

"You must think I'm mad!" I said, incredulously. "I can remember the last time I was alone with you! What on earth makes you think I wish to repeat the experience?"

His eyes were suddenly full of pain.

"Because this time, I can explain. Please."

And with that he stood, gave me a searching look, and was gone.

I slumped back in my seat, perplexed and trembling. My heart wanted me to race after him and do his bidding, no matter the cost to my pride. My head urged caution, and as I stared at the ice cream melting on my plate, my mind in turmoil, I went over the events that had led up to my running from his rooms in tears of humiliation over 8 months before.

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Several weeks had passed before our paths crossed again, and I had to content myself with stealing glances at him across the hall at mealtimes, and gazing at his moving picture in my room, like a lovesick schoolgirl. I fancied that he stole glances back at me, too, but if that was the case he disguised it well. My work suffered, too, as I could not concentrate for long and Madam Pince would often find me standing at the library window, staring at the sky.

Then one mid-October day, the Headmaster summoned me to his office. I had the notion that I was to be challenged as to why the cataloguing was not yet complete, so was full of apprehension as I said the password, "Uncle Joe's Mintballs" which admitted me to the moving spiral staircase. Inside his office, Dumbledore was waiting for me, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Oh, Ella, here you are, here you are! I do hope you are feeling better now, after your ordeal? Very fortuitous that Severus was so close at hand, eh?"

"Oh, yes." I agreed, flushing slightly and getting the distinct impression that the Headmaster knew more than he ought.

"Well then, well then! I understand your work here is not, perhaps, as stimulating as you would like?"

I demurred, but he continued, "Well, I have decided to make the most of you while you are here! I believe that the Muggle Studies class would do well to learn about the potions and physicks our non-magical friends make do with, and so I would like you to work with Professor Snape and concoct some of the more common ones for us! What do you say, Ella?"

I felt sick with apprehension; delight and dread were in me in equal measure. To be thrown together in such a way was surely no coincidence. I concurred, and Dumbledore told me to go to Snape that evening to draw up a list of all that would be required before we could start.

The classroom was empty when I entered. I knocked on the door to his office and the private chamber I knew lay beyond, and he opened it with a familiar scowl on his striking face.

"I'm sorry, have I come at a bad time?" I asked.

"You've come at the appointed time, I believe. But since I don't consider this forced collaboration to be of any use, either to myself or to the school, then yes, it is a bad time!"

"I'm sorry you feel that way, I was under the misapprehension that this was your idea."

"Pah! And why would you think that? Potions making is a subtle science and an exact art, and I am more than capable of it. Do you imagine I need to seek out the society of unqualified girls in order to help me with my work?"

"I imagine no such thing when I think of you, Severus" I answered with a calmness that I hoped hid the agitation I felt at the deliberately provocative use of his first name.

I set down my books on the large table in the centre of the room, and sat down. There, I was ensconced, and would not be intimidated into leaving. He was silent, and I felt his eyes boring into me. My heart was racing, but inwardly I congratulated myself for successfully concealing my feelings. He sat down beside me at last, stiffly and at too great a distance, and said, "Shall we begin?"

For the next two hours we discussed which remedies would be most useful for the students, and which would be more or less challenging for them to try to reproduce. His coldness washed away for a time, leaving an earnest, enquiring and highly intelligent man in its wake.

At last, our work was done for the night. and I rose to leave.

"Will you take a glass of wine before you leave?" he asked, with a formal manner that made me smile inwardly.

"I'd like that, thanks."

I followed him across the room to the sideboard, where he stood pouring red wine into two golden goblets. As he passed one to me, our fingers touched, and lingered on it. His eyes flickered down to our hands, and then met mine, and I knew then that he felt something too. My mouth suddenly dry, I gulped down my wine and turned away, to hide the naked desire that I was sure was visible on my face. He cleared his throat and said,

"It's late. You should... go. Now."

Setting down my goblet without a word, I left him alone.

Chapter 4

Over the next few weeks we worked side by side each evening after dinner. Our routine was unvarying. I would knock on his door, he would open it wordlessly, and we would set to work straight away. Conversation was easy while work was the topic under discussion, but anything "off-topic" was met with monosyllabic answers and a distinct discomfort. I knew that he had spent many weeks away at Dumbledore's behest, and I knew that his mission had concerned the rise of the dark lord. More, he would not say, and I knew as little about his life before Hogwarts, or outside of it, as when I first met him.

Nevertheless, our partaking of a goblet of red wine at the end of the evening had become a ritual, and it was now our habit to sit in front of the fire while we supped. Severus would stare into the flames and occasionally ask me questions about the Muggle world, but I knew he affected an interest merely to make conversation, and, I hoped, in order to prolong my stay.

Then, one evening, I did not take my seat in the chair opposite his, but instead sat on the black fur rug before the fire, which was equally as luxuriant as the white one I knew lay in his bedroom. His robes brushed against my upturned cheek as he edged past me to sit down. I shifted closer to him and leaned slightly, resting my head on his knee as I gazed at the fire. I felt him stiffen, and sensed his hands gripping the arms of the chair, but after a moment he relaxed again and we sat in silence. Eventually I felt him reach out to stroke my hair, tentatively, as if he was unsure of how to proceed. I sighed, and leaned further in to him by way of encouragement.

He was so gentle, his touch so longed for, that his fingers made my scalp tingle. To be so near to him and yet not dare go further was an exquisite agony of yearning for me and I was compelled to turn and gaze at him, my feelings surely etched on my face. His fingers grazed my cheek as I turned, and his hand stayed for a while, as he regarded me gravely, the line between his eyebrows pronounced by a slight frown. After long moments, he withdrew his hand and said softly,

"It's late, and we are both tired. You should go."

I stood reluctantly, and he accompanied me to the door. I turned to face him, reaching up to caress his cheek with my hand. He closed his eyes when my fingertips brushed his lips, and I whispered, "Goodnight, Severus." I did not dare reach up to kiss him, even though I burned for him. I felt too powerless in his presence to take more control, and I sensed that the time was not right. But as I floated back to my room, I knew that somehow it would be, soon. There was an invisible cord that stretched from my body to his, and the tugging deep in my stomach, betraying my deepest desires, would not let me forget.

Sleep eluded me for a long time that night. I sought to relieve my physical yearning for him, and on its release I cried out his name over and over, until it had passed and I was spent. My mental torment, however, could not be assuaged so readily. I was falling in love.

I must have succumbed to sleep eventually, because I awoke to find the mid-morning sun streaming through my window. I had overslept, and I cursed myself for missing breakfast and the opportunity of looking on his face again. Now I would have to wait until the evening. I made my way to the library and tried to lose myself in my work. I must have had some success, for when he came upon me in a dark, narrow aisle, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said, rearranging the books on the shelf behind me, disturbed when I had backed into them in my surprise.

"I was miles away!" I admitted.

"Evidently!" he smiled, brushing dust from my shoulder with long, tapering fingers, before growing serious once more. "You missed breakfast today, and I...needed to ask you something"

"I overslept." I said ruefully. "It took me half the night to fall asleep." I looked at him levelly, and he replied,

"I had some difficulty relaxing, too. We...worked too hard."

"Maybe we need a break"

"Ah. I see. Of course, I've taken up too much of your free time; the Headmaster wouldn't want you overworked. And I'm sure Lupin misses your company!"

His tone became cold, and I could sense his withdrawal from me. He had misunderstood my meaning, and turned to leave.

"No! Severus, I just meant that we should maybe have some fun, relax a little. It would do us both good. I could show you how!" I teased, gently.

"Together?" He looked at me, disbelieving.

"Yes, why not?"

"Why not, indeed?" he said thoughtfully, eyes downcast. "And what would we do? Together?"

I said nothing, and waited for him to raise his eyes to meet mine. As he did, I stepped towards him and put a hand on his shoulder. Stretching on tiptoes, I leaned forward and let my lips brush his, oh so lightly. He didn't move, he simply stood there, his eyes hooded and gazing into mine, his lips slightly parted. He tasted soft, pliant and warm, and I felt a heat of desire for him engulf me. I heard a soft moan from deep in his throat, before he took a step back from me, muttered, "I don't think so, Ella." turned and swept away. Rapidly.

I sank to the floor, disbelieving and still giddy from the kiss. I was aghast that he should react in such a way, and I couldn't understand why, when the kiss had obviously affected him, he should run from me. I wrapped my arms around my legs, buried my face and sobbed.

"Are you alright?" came a concerned voice. I looked up to see one of the sixth year prefects, Hermione Granger, looking down at me. I brushed away my tears with the back of my hand, and stood up.

"Yes, I'm absolutely fine, thanks."

"Hmm," she said, unconvinced. "Here. Take this handkerchief. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Er...no," I said, trying to compose myself, but Hermione wasn't to be dissuaded so easily.

"I just saw Professor Snape leaving the library. I was coming in. He was very rude, told me to get out of his way. Now, we're all used to that sort of thing, but I have to say, I've never seen him look quite so upset before. I wonder what's wrong?"

I met her steady, knowing gaze and said,

"I have no idea what goes on in that man's head."

"But you'd like to." Mentally, I admitted defeat and said ruefully,

"You must think I'm mad."

She shrugged matter-of-factly. "For wanting forbidden fruit? No, I understand." Her face clouded for a moment, and then she announced, "You'd be good for him. Tell him!" And, leaving me open-mouthed in surprise, she turned on her heel and was gone.

At length, I managed to compose myself sufficiently to return to my desk, which I tidied quickly before leaving the library. If Madam Pince noticed my prolonged disappearance or red-rimmed eyes, she said nothing. It was only after I was back in my room that I remembered Snape had said he wanted to ask me something. I had a suspicion that that had been merely a ruse, an excuse to seek me out that had gone awry, but nevertheless it gave me a reason to go to him. When I felt brave, or foolhardy enough to do so.