Rom To My Private Dungeon

*** Chapter 13 *** Snape hated venturing into muggle London. The only time he ever went beyond the border of the Leaky Cauldron when Dumbledore asked for one of his little favours. And no doubt those little favours were always for sweets. Snape didn't even like muggle sweets, yet he knew more about them than he thought any grown wizard ought. Luckily there was a shop not three doors down from the Leaky Cauldron that didn't look twice when wizards walked in. Perhaps, because it was in such close proximity to the pub, it had more than its fair share of wizarding shoppers. Maracuja and Severus strolled in as though it were nothing. His eyes darted around cautiously while scanning the counter for the offending sweets. "I hate it when he asks me to do this" he groused in Maracuja's ear. "It's not normal, a grown wizard obsessed with the snacks of muggle children. I swear he does it just to torture me." Maracuja smiled and patted him comfortingly on the back. "Poor Severus," she chuckled sympathetically. Spying some fruit on display off to the right side of the store, Maracuja pointed them out to Severus and walked over to pick out some cherries. Severus kept looking for the Polos, his patience wearing thin. When Maracuja came back, he was still looking for the right package. The clerk behind the counter saw the foreboding expression on Snape's face and didn't dare ask him if he needed any help. Maracuja scooped some cherries into a plastic bag and walked back over to the counter. "Let me help you, Severus," she offered. "What are we looking for?" "Polos. You know, the mints with the little holes in the middle," he said in mock imitation of Dumbledore, his mouth twisted in a grimace. Maracuja winked at the clerk, who surreptitiously pointed at the right product. "Ah! I found them!" she bounced, and plucked a small handful. Snape pulled out his sack of galleons, sighed in frustration, and, putting them back, reached into another pocket for the muggle money Dumbledore had given him earlier. Handing over a £20 note, he feigned casual and dismissive. "That ought to be enough." "Indeed, sir" came a polite reply as the clerk handed back £12.23. Making haste, the two popped back into the Leaky Cauldron and onto Diagon Alley without incident and then flew back to Hogwarts. Although it was getting late, the sun set later in summer, so the two still had to be careful to avoid being seen by muggles. Maracuja sat in back again, snuggled up against him. The wind had picked up a bit, andugh ugh it was warm, she was grateful for Snape's shoulders blocking the strong breeze from her face. She closed her eyes and daydreamed about their erotic encounter on the patio. She was ready for more, and wondered whether she'd have to make the first move. She was both intrigued and concerned her that a wizard as smart, funny, successful and unconventionally handsome as Severus Snape should have such apparent inner turmoil. She'd found him so adorable in the shops, powerful when dealing with the shopkeepers, yet chatting nervously to her in 'Professor Snape mode' about things she already knew, pulling out the wrong money in the muggle shop, choking when he saw his former student both times. His shyness and his sexiness curled up inside her and she smiled and hugged him even tighter. Snape concentrated on his flying, but after a while his mind wandered too. He enjoyed the feel of Maracuja holding on. It made him feel stronger, like he was needed-but in an uplifting way, unlike the way Dumbledore needed him. He had expected an intern, but instead he found in her an escape from his daily life and its constant reminder of his youthful mistakes. She made him feel desired and respected. She understood his humour, and inexplicably stilled the constant tumult churning within him. He wanted to do anything he could for her. His mind wandered to potions, to the research the two would be conducting together. If she wanted to study infusion potions, well, he was going to dig out every note on every possible infusion potion at his disposal. Whatever she wanted, he would work on. His mind travelled from book to book, from pile of notes to notebooks of completed experiments. He considered where to begin. He daydreamed about the two of them, working quietly but determinedly side by side, stopping on occasion to smile at one another. He opened his heart with hope, just the little bit he dared. *** They landed on the grounds of Hogwarts near the lake. The grass was soft and fragrant. A gentle warm breeze kissed their skin. The moon was coming up, the setting sun a ball of deep red reflected on the water. Maracuja glanced over and saw the giant squid doing laps near the surface, which made her smile. Snape gestured for them to sit by the lake. He conjured up a bench, and the two sat down. Snape stretched out his long legs. Maracuja leaned in to his side and sighed as his right arm wrapped itself around her, almost of its vol volition. She squeezed his knee affectionately, and in response he kissed the top of her head. Some unspoken transition had taken place within both of them. Some time between their initial introduction the day before and their flight back to the grounds tonight, a powerful, sweet magical buzz of mutual admiration, trust and joy consumed them both. "It's so peaceful here," she sighed, "so beautiful. I can understand why you chose to stay in summer. And such a sunset, it is breathtaking." "I haven't the choice you think I have," he sighed with some sorrow. "There are things about me you don't know. But this place has never seemed more peaceful than it does right now." He paused a moment and kissed the top of her head again. With apparent nervousness he whispered, "Thank you." Maracuja gave Snape a hug and curled her legs up on the bench, snuggling into him tighter. "My life is not an easy one either, Severus," she confessed. "Roma women are ridiculed and spat upon in my country. Those of us with magical power are feared, and it is often that fear which provides the only measure of respect we receive. My parents and I made a very difficult decision to put me into school. It is not safe for the Roma children. But it is also not safe for a Rom to break from our traditions. I am in the middle. It is why I know well how to defend myself. And then, my father was killed when I was 12. Someone smothered him in a lethifold. They say he was a spy." Snape stroked her hair gently with his long fingers and contemplated how to respond. He was not the type to confess his inner demons. But something about her own confession of hardship hinted that she knew something of his own. The moon rose steadily as the two sat in contented silence. An expanse of stars twinkled above them. When he spoke at last, he was both warning and pleading. "There are spies everywhere, Maracuja. Twelve years ago, you were a child. But I was a grown wizard and remember things you should never know. It was war then. No one was safe." He paused and looked into her eyes. "Things are not always as they seem, Maracuja-especially not in a place that seems as peaceful as this. I know you can take care of yourself. I...I...I admire that about you. And I know how it feels to fight all sides. I live it every day." Maracuja took his hands in hers and gave them a squeeze. She knew the little he'd was was more than he'd ever told anyone. She gave him a gentle smile and caressed the side of his face. "Frumoasa mea Severus" she breathed, "let us not think on yesterday. Ieri, it is gone. Let us not think on tomorrow, for we cannot control it. Azi. Today. We live in today. And today has been the best day." Their lips met in a soft kiss and their hearts fluttered. A moment later the giant squid made a giant splash in the water. They laughed, mid-kiss, and separated. "It's late. Perhaps we should go indoors," he suggested. The two started walking towards the castle in silence. Snape tentatively held out a hand, just a little further from his body than natural. Maracuja sensed the subtle cue and took his hand in hers, smiling inwardly at the fragility of the gesture. They walked hand in hand up the hill and ascended the front staircase. When they neared the doors, Snape turned and gave her a tender look. "I must bring some things to the Headmaster. Will you be able to find your way on your own?" he questioned softly. "I will be fine," she assured him, stroking his hand still in her own with her fingers. "I would like to walk around the grounds alone for a few minutes, actually. The air is so fresh. I want a moment to meditate." Snape nodded and gave her a parting kiss. Their arms and then fingers outstretched in unconscious protest as he walked away. Maracuja gave herself a hug and watched him enter the castle. He appeared such a powerful man when walking. His robes proudly billowed behind, belying the subtle change taking place inside him. She wandered back towards the lake and, finding the bench had vanished, found a large rock to sit on instead for a moment of solitary meditation. Her mind would not rest. She felt so consumed by her new feelings. "This man. Severus," she sighed. "What are you doing to me?" Dumbledore approached from a distance, just as the absolute last ray of sunlight vanished into the horizon. He looked slightly damp, as though he'd recently been in a bath. "Oh, Headmaster!" she exclaimed. "Severus just went in search of you, to give you the items he brought back." "Yes, I know. Thank you," he replied. "I will see him soon enough. May we chat a moment?" "But of course," she responded, pleased but slightly confused. *** Inside, Snape ran up to Dumbledore's office. Not finding him there, he dropped off the feathers and packs of Polos, and headed down to the dungeon. Undoing the wards on his door, he rushed into his study, tossed his outer robe onto the couch and lit a fire in the fireplace with his wand. Sighing audibly, he unbuttoned his frock coat and threw it on top of the robe. He was energised, despite the long day, and did not want to undress just yet. So instead he opted to unbutton the collar of his shirt and rolled up his shirtsleeves. His eyes wandered over to his desk, and before he knew it he was poring over notes, immersed in thought. Several hours flew by without him even noticing, so intent was he on sorting through his notes for possible projects. Meanwhile, Maracuja had gone back to her rooms and taken a nap. When she woke, it was late but she knew she couldn't just retire for the night. She slipped into a gauzy black dressing gown and night robe anyway. Her thoughts turned to Severus, and the conversation she'd had with Dumbledore earlier. He'd gently warned her, without specifics, that Severus Snape was a man under a great deal of stress. That he'd been "under an unprecedented amount of pressure just this year", which was "unlikely to let up for several more years." He asked that she keep that in the back of her mind. Maracuja made a promise not to mention their conversation to Snape. But the headmaster's words increased her yearning to be with him, so on impulse she grabbed a bottle of Romanian wine from her trunk and made her way down to the dungeons. She padded her way through the castle quietly, her slippers making a soft noise on the stone steps. The dungeons were cooler than the rest of the castle, as the gooseflesh on her skin attested. When she reached his chambers she saw that his door was slightly ajar and the lights were on. She'd hoped that he was still awake, as it had grown quite late. But when she knocked on the door there was no answer, so she inched the door open quietly and slipped inside. The warmth of the room was a relief after the chill of the corridors. But what she saw took her breath away. Severus was standing at an angle to her. In his left hand was a jar freshly labelled "pickled frog hearts." In his right hand was a book, and his nose was buried in it. His black trousers contrasted with his white shirt, which he wore half-opened and rolled up at the sleeves. She'd not seen him before in a half-undressed state. His chest and forearms were pale, and she ached to run her hands and tongue along his exposed skin. Maracuja sighed deeply and swallowed, which startled Snape and caused him to look up. His jaw dropped at the sight of Maracuja in her dressing gown, holding a bottle of wine. His heart pounded as his eyes roamed to take her in, and the jar slipped out of his hand, shattering on the floor. The frog hearts splattered all over the place, but he didn't even notice. She was there, in his study, half-undressed. He knew perfectly well why she was there, and it was not to discuss potions. *** Author's Note: Frumoasa mea Severus means "My beautiful Severus."