Promises (Temporarily on Hiatus)

I’m so sorry it took so long to post! This has been the most difficult, uncooperative eight thousand words I’ve ever had to put to paper/screen. I’m dedicating this chapter to LaBibliographe. Without her guidance, Promises would’ve been damaged beyond repair. And now, for your reading pleasure, Chapter Twenty-One.

I hadn't been with her for two weeks; for fourteen days I had been without her flesh writhing under me, for three hundred and thirty six hours I hadn't tasted her honeyed mouth. Naturally, I was embarrassed by my urgency, by my devotion to such abject compulsions, but the embarrassment wasn't enough to quell them. My frustration and prurient fancies overwhelmed me during NEWT Potions. I wanted to fuck her in front of everyone, bend her over the cauldron, yank up her skirt, and let the Hufflepuffs piss themselves while they watched me take Evelyn right there. Instead, I had to content myself with wanking in the shower, like some miserable adolescent.

Evelyn seemed even more attractive now that I knew I couldn't have her. It was too risky, we had concluded, too rash and reckless. She would be busy, tired, distracted by lessons and work and our own issues; perhaps occasionally, if the opportunity presented itself. But occasionally, I soon realised, wasn't going to suffice. I dreamt of her, which was a pleasant departure from the night terrors that usually gripped my mind, but the dreams were maddening. Evelyn, skin shining and iridescent, green eyes bright, pupils blotting out the iris, lips puckered, pressed against me. I'd wake up sweating, panting, clawing at the sheets in an attempt to keep the succubus pressed against me.

Before Evelyn and I fucked, I thought she was a plain and lanky witch whose mind and scintillating wit would have to make up for her lacklustre appearance. She was still physically unimpressive with dull yellow hair, pale flesh, lean, with blotchy freckles dotting her nose, but now that I knew what lay under her robes, I couldn't help but think of her long legs, her soft, milky thighs, the downy curls of her minge, and her sweet arse; round, plump, smoother than anything. Together, these things made her beautiful in a way. When I looked at her as a whole, instead of just focusing on her flaws, she was a comely girl, one that I felt would soon blossom in a way. I would be the first to pluck her, ripe, sweet flesh.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I had always been perfectly capable of restraining myself when it came to such matters. Lusty I may have been, but my self-control always superseded that in any situation. I concluded that this was just another addiction to add to my list, addicted to the feeling of her mouth on me, her cool hands pressing my shoulders, half-protesting, half-begging, and heels digging into my buttocks as she hooked her ankles behind me. It was the thrill, the rush of adrenaline, the seizing of my gut, the break from the monotony. After the War, my life became desolate, devoid of any excitement or vim. Being with her brought back all that I had lost, all the vigour and life and purpose that had slipped away. I grasped at her as a means of grasping at them, clinging to her body, the feeling. I wasn’t addicted to her, per se, but the sensations that came with being with her. And now having to abstain so suddenly from sex, when it was free-flowing and abundant before, took a serious toll on me. I smoked incessantly, even between class periods, downed a full bottle of Firewhisky each night, all to banish her from my thoughts.

It had nothing to do with my emotional involvement with the witch, of course; I saw that as another thing entirely. It was almost as if there were two Evelyns: one that I wanted to screw and another who was more an intellectual stimulant. I polarised them, disassociated the two halves to make them easier to deal with. During the two weeks after the start of the term, the first Evelyn dominated my thoughts.

One brisk day mid-January, Evelyn took her time packing her belongings after class. I watched intently as she bent over to pick up her things. I noted the way she wriggled her hips, let her robes fall to the side to expose an illicitly short skirt and an inch or so of her alabaster skin.

"I've sent it off, Professor, my application."

I glanced up from my lap, where I had been studying my restless cock. "When do you find out?"

"Not until June," she sighed, smiling slightly at me. She cocked her head expectantly to one side.

"Do you need to do anything in the interim?"

"There's an exam, which isn’t really something to be worried about. I mean, Charms has always been my best subject. The practical exam will be the deciding factor, though, considering one must be beyond proficient in a subject to master it in three years."

"Good luck, Miss Harper," I offered. "I trust you've been practising."

"Yes, and Professor Flitwick's set up a timetable for us to work in the evenings. I will be... busy for the next few weeks."

I understood the implications and offered her a wry smile. "Oh, what a shame." My voice dropped a few decibels. "Should I be jealous?"

"Very."

"Leave, Miss Harper. You shouldn't be dithering in my classroom."

"Oh, right. Have a lovely day, sir."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the door.

"Happy Birthday, Miss Harper. If you can slip out of the dormitories..."

She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. "I'll see what I can do." Evelyn swept out of the classroom without another word.

I sat there for some while after. It was the end of the day, and normally I would have been exhausted, but I felt restless, anxious, fingers drummed against my desk, feet tapped dully against the stone floor. I decided to pay Aurora a visit to try to distract myself, and as a general rule, Aurora was always a wonderful distraction.

I knew I would find her on top of the Astronomy Tower; there, or just below in her compact office. Antique astrolabes collected dust in glass cases, star charts hung on walls, edges curling, and a large glass orb bobbed at eye level, galaxies swirling, colliding within. And she was there, cup of jasmine tea steaming, head resting on her palm. Her large, deep eyes were rolled upward, gazing intently at the constantly shifting constellations that her enchanted ceiling projected.

"Aurora." She jumped slightly and turned towards me. That ready, pouty smile slid easily onto her face, and her tongue wetted her lips.

"Severus, you startled me. Have a seat, won't you? Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh, no, thank you, Aurora. I'm sure you know why I'm here."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I suspected as much." She stood up and nestled against me on the chaise. Her slender hand touched my cheek, danced along my thigh, stroked my forearm.

"You shouldn't tease me like this, Aurora. I might have to do something about it."

She sighed and bit her lower lip, long nails pressing into the flesh of my leg. “You know, next year I will be your superior. You shall have to do whatever I say.”

“You're taking the position then?"

"Have I ever been able to say no to you?"

"No, not since I used that nullification spell."

She cocked her head, smiling slightly, a disconcerting gleam in her eye. “Severus Snape, why are you still with that Harper chit?”

“Sorry?”

“I thought you would’ve been done with her by now. Isn’t she just the most annoying thing?”

I shrugged. “She can be. Though, I find that her good traits outweigh the bad ones.”

“Hmmm... She is a lovely girl, Severus, a bit like me in a way, but when I become Headmistress, I can't turn a blind eye to such improprieties.”

I snorted, quite aware of the fact that it was an empty threat. “She is of age and next year, she won’t be my student. You have absolutely no say in the matter.”

And then I realised that I wouldn’t have a say in it either. She would be married. Mrs. So-and-so. I pushed the thought from my mind.

It was quite awkward, this exchange, made even more so by our physical proximity. Aurora knew of my affairs, and they never seemed to bother her, but this time, I couldn't help but detect a lick of jealousy in her tone, the way her nostrils flared, lips pursed.

"I suppose not," she conceded, staring shrewdly at me. "But I'm sure you're pleased to hear that I'm taking the position."

"Ecstatic. I'm sure you'll do a splendid job."

"You owe me."

"Hardly."

She furrowed her brows before relaxing and sauntering back to her desk. "A toast then? I think it's appropriate." She took out a crystal bottle and two glasses.

"Of course!"

A bottle of brandy later, Aurora and I lounged on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. I had removed my robes and waistcoat (the liquor had warmed me considerably) and she stripped down to her slip. There was no denying what we were about to do. Her slender hand was rubbing my thigh, curls pressed against my neck, foot nudged mine gently. It was dark, the office illuminated by the enchanted stars, nothing more. And in the darkness, she climbed on top of me, lifting her chemise up over her head. Weighty breasts swung tantalisingly; warm, enveloping sex gripped me. I let her have her way with me, there on the floor, relished the sensation, the familiarity. Suddenly, I was twenty again; young, filled with vigour, with promise. I could change everything, rework my life, run away to Buenos Aires or Marseilles and really live; get down to the marrow of it. But then I came, and it all faded away. What was left was me, supine on the floor, staring up at a shadow of the witch I used to know. We were both fooling ourselves if we thought being together would bring us back to those days, where you drank to accentuate a feeling, not dull it, where you fucked to feel good in the moment, not to relive the past.

I got dressed and left without a word to her, but I don't think she noticed. She looked disappointed, as though she had been searching for something and didn't find it. It was late, and thankfully the hallways were empty. I got back to my chambers and began to peel off my clothing. I was spent and ached to crawl into bed and because I had yet to brew another batch of hangover potions, I would attempt to sleep through as much of it as I could.

"Professor?"

I jumped and turned to see Evelyn, leaning hesitantly against a doorframe. I had forgotten all about our planned tête a tête.

"Oh. Yes, right. I told you to come by..."

She looked hurt but steeled herself. "Yes, you did."

I stalked closer to her, touched her cheek for a moment, before settling against a wall. "I'm sorry, Miss Harper, but I'm thoroughly exhausted—"

"You're drunk," she interrupted, wrinkling her nose.

"Your point?"

"I suppose I don't have one." Evelyn pushed away. "Where were you?" Her face was unreadable, blank.

"With Aurora. She's agreed to take the position."

"Did she need much convincing?" The witch eyed my unkempt appearance, untucked shirt, open fly.

I got very close to her, gripped her upper arm firmly. Though liquor may have made me pliable, hangovers made me a bit of a bastard. "What exactly are you implying, Harper?"

"Nothing," she spat, narrowing her eyes. "Just let me go back to the dormitories. You're not the only one that's had a rough day."

"What would you know about it?" My grip tightened, and I subconsciously pulled her closer. I was hurting her, I could tell, and it wasn't a controlled sort of pain. The gesture was primal, cruel.

"You fucked her," Evelyn barked. I caught her chin in my hand, forced her to meet my gaze, and breathed on her. The witch shivered.

"And what if I did?" My voice was cold, rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"Nothing, Professor Snape." Her resignation was disarming, sobering, and I let the witch go. It upset me, this acquiescence, her blind acceptance and submission. Though only a few moments earlier, I had been quite ready to expel her from my chambers for having the audacity to make such accusations, I now felt a surge of some unnameable emotion seize hold of me. Evelyn’s masochistic tendencies were perfectly acceptable in the bedroom, of course; that was for our mutual benefit. But letting me go without a word of reproach or fury or indignation was disheartening. Merlin knows I should have been ecstatic that she was willing to share, but I knew—half-hidden behind layers of indifference and feigned apathy—I didn’t want to share her... or be shared for that matter. It was a mistake, sleeping with Aurora, and I wanted her to understand that, but how could I broach the subject if she didn’t care enough to fight for me? I would be exposing myself to her if I did and couldn’t risk the rejection. I knew that I had no right to be upset—I had made my decision and was now dealing with the consequences—but I couldn’t deny that my pride was injured by her wretched resignation.

"I never promised you exclusivity," I ventured, trying to incite her, daring the witch to challenge the statement.

"I know," Evelyn conceded. She subconsciously rubbed the spot where I had grabbed her and turned her head away. "I know."

Her melancholy expression, the dry ridges in her lips, pale cheeks, trembling fingers; they pained me more than any physical vengeance she could have exacted against me. I didn’t want to feel like I did, I didn’t want to feel guilty or ashamed. I wished that I could brutalise her and be cruel without feeling anything at all, but I’d somehow managed to acquire feelings for the girl, notions that spanned beyond possessiveness and lust. At the time, I attributed this to Evelyn’s situation, the fact that she was going to be torn away from me in five months time. However, I knew, viscerally, somewhere in my gut, that her betrothal only increased my affection for her; it wasn’t the source. I couldn’t admit that it was her vivacity, her keen wit, the luminescent gleam in her eyes, that were my undoing; I refused to see that I was drawn to her on a level that superseded base gratifications and bestial impulses; I wouldn’t acknowledge the fact that she made me feel good, without changing who I was, without taking me to another time or place. When I was with Evelyn, I was happy, without condition or pretence. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I was reliant on her for this uncontrived pleasure, the fact that this feeling was contingent on her presence.

"This is the first time Aurora and I have been together in quite some time. It's not as if I've been carrying on with her behind your back."

"You haven't?" Evelyn locked eyes with me, her irises glimmering in the low light.

"No, and it will not happen again."

“Oh?” There was a spark. Eyes flashed, corners of her lips turned down. There was some hope yet. “Why did you fuck her in the first place then?”

I sighed and threw myself onto the sofa, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I was hesitant to answer her question. It would mean exposing myself to her, revealing more than I was comfortable with. I had worked so hard to build up walls around me; cloistered away behind them, I was safe, untouchable, unconcerned. I wondered for a moment if she was worth it; if this girl, this dalliance, was worth the vulnerability that would come with drawing back the veil and inviting her in.

I beckoned her over with a listless flick of my wrist, and she complied, albeit hesitantly. Her knee touched mine, eyes searching for something I couldn't name, mouth soft. I tentatively took hold of her limp hand, expecting her to pull it away, but she didn’t. Evelyn allowed me to flex her fingers, trace the lines that spanned across the palm, press my rough flesh against her smooth skin. I couldn’t form the words, couldn’t push my breath along the vocal cords to form those necessary syllables. She would twist me, torture me with my revelations, use them against me like Aurora had; Evelyn would manipulate, thrust a knife into my exposed flesh and rend me apart.

She withdrew her hand and stood up, head high, hands curled into fists.

“Don’t go,” I breathed. The syllables were so soft and Evelyn’s countenance so impassive, I wasn’t sure she heard them, but she turned to face me, eyes dropping to mine, cold. But suddenly, her brow softened, mouth rictal, hands unclenched. I pulled her to me. I would need her flesh beneath my fingers if I was to do this, needed to be reminded why I was doing this, her skin sustenance for the spirit.

"You have no idea what it's like,” I began, my grip tight around her middle, hair soft against my neck. Her scent, it was her scent that propelled the words up my throat and pushed them from my lips. That intoxicating efflorescent air about her like a babbling beverage, and the syllables tumbled out. “Nearly four and a half decades of my life wasted on lost causes and empty endeavours. Lusting after a woman I could never really have, trying to teach miserable adolescents a skill that they’ve no chance of mastering, quite aware of the fact that I’m capable of so much more and yet, unable to do anything about it, playing double agent for two sadistic bastards who used me and tortured me, each with their own unique brand of manipulation and control. You have no idea what I've suffered. And tonight, I was offered an irresistible opportunity: for once in my life, my longings could come to fruition. I could finally get what I'd pined for for nearly twenty-two years. Do you know what it felt like, Evelyn? Do you understand? It felt like someone had sucked a bit of my soul away, as though someone had pressed the most luscious fruit to my mouth but the inside was rotted and pitted with maggots. I'm sorry I hurt you. I regret it, and I never intended it to happen, but how was I to resist? How was I supposed to resist the promise of... of being happy?”

"At least you had a chance, Severus,” she returned, sliding off of my lap and falling onto her back. Her feet braced themselves against the arm of one end, and she stretched her legs across my lap, head resting at the other end of the couch. She turned her head to one side, offering me a view of her gentle profile and long neck. “I'm going to be married to a perfect stranger in five months time, married to a man who feels the need to tell me that I'll love him, who thinks that I could somehow consent to complaisantly be with him just because he's... attractive? Allowing me to continue my education? And in some miserable attempt to secure at least a shred of happiness—certainly you understand that—I took on a lover whom I thought could truly make me feel good. But you, you've punished me and betrayed me and... And I can't seem to resent you for it because what you've done to me is beyond cruel. You temper all your bitterness and spite with moments of half-concealed tenderness and affection, moments of petting my hair and nibbling gently on my neck, you let me believe I was pretty and charming and smart and worthy of your affection, that I was capable of being lo...

"Do you understand how unfair that is? Can you possibly comprehend how I'll feel next year, when I show up to work and see you? You, the man who offered me some of the most blissful moments I’ve ever know, the man who inspired such an inundation of desire and tenderness that I thought I’d be overwhelmed by it. I'll see you every day; in your classroom, at every meal, at faculty meetings and functions, and in the hallways. It will be worse than finding out your precious fruit is rotted. It will be like tasting just the smallest amount and knowing that happiness is just centimetres away from you and you can't have it again, no matter how keen your hunger, no matter how overwhelming your desire. I will be Tantalus, forever tormented by the one thing I need but can never have."

"Of course I know what it feels like, Evelyn. I've just told you: I’ve lived like that for nearly a decade now. The pangs subside..." I trailed off, turning away from her. I wanted—needed to protect her from what had happened to me. I couldn't risk her losing her spirit and vivacity. I thought about Aurora; how I resented her, loathed her, and still I longed for her. I didn’t want Evelyn to shut herself away like I did, to lose that precious vulnerability that delighted me so. I wanted her to remain sweet and tender for as long as possible, so I could be strong for her. More anything, I wanted to shield her from all the cruelty I had known in my own life. I knew that she would have to harden herself soon enough, that before her nuptials, I would have to teach her how to disconnect, how to build up walls, but until then, I wanted Evelyn to be élan and bright; I wanted to watch her face grow animated with pleasure, to see that pink mouth contort itself into a myriad of different smiles, all of which seem to say, “I want to be with you, Severus.”

"I don't want us to end up like you and Aurora,” Evelyn murmured as she sat up. “I don't want us to be miserable. I know you've had a difficult life, Severus, I understand you just want to be happy. But... can't I offer you that happiness you've been looking for? I've tried..."

"You've done more than try, Evelyn,” I conceded, resting my hand on her slumped shoulder. “You’ve made me happy these past few months, but... I was greedy. I thought I could have both the happiness I knew with Aurora and the happiness I've realised with you."

"Is there a difference between the two?"

"Yes, there is a difference. It isn't quantitative... More in regards to the type of happiness. When I'm with Aurora, I'm young again. I have choices, opportunities, places to go; the world is mine to command. I've energy, vigour, verve. Whereas you... you don't change who I am. The happiness isn't transformative. It settles over me without removing me entirely." I paused. "And it makes me feel old."

"You're not old," Evelyn protested. "How old are you?"

I was silent for a moment. "Forty-three."

She laughed, but it wasn’t a cruel laugh; soft, teasing, bell-like. "You're not old!" she repeated. "God, you're barely middle aged."

She stared at me, eyes wide. My features were hard, eyes narrowed. She was laughing at me. I had exposed myself and she was laughing. But I couldn't stay angry at the witch. She didn’t understand the magnitude of what I had just done, how difficult it was to discuss all this with her. I wished I could have impressed on her the gravity of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. But perhaps I didn’t have enough in faith in Evelyn’s percipiency. She was always so keen and penetrating, but I couldn't be sure that she really understood what I had just done.

I pulled her closer to me, settling my hand on her lower back. "Do you understand what a gift youth is? Of course you don't. Children never do."

"Is that what you see me as? A child?" Her voice was cold. I had offended her.

"In some respects, Evelyn, yes, you are a child. Certainly not physically or intellectually, but emotionally, you can be." Her nose wrinkled, lip sneered. "It will change, Evelyn. You'll grow up, sooner rather than later, in your case."

She sighed, turning her eyes to the floor.

"Evelyn..." She fell into my embrace, melting into my flesh. My arms were tight around her, one hand cradling the back of her neck, the other secure around her waist. I kissed her sweet mouth and found it pliable and soft under mine. It wasn't long before I had removed her blouse, I felt blindly in the darkness groping for flesh, for her sex, her scent mild, lingering. I needed to have her, to fill the void that my coupling with Aurora left, to soothe the ache, and Evelyn obliged me. She was beautiful that night, graceful, lithe form stretched out in the low light. I told her that she was lovely, whispered it, lips against the curve of her ear. Evelyn smiled against my cheek.

--/\--

N.E.W.T. Potions ended just before lunch. Surprisingly, it was less awkward than I had feared. There were no hastily averted glances or furrowed brows; Severus carried on as usual, and I did the same. All was as it had been; the previous night had changed very little. Though, that was perhaps a superficial analysis. Of course, my opinion of the man had changed, but only slightly. He had slept with another woman but in some attempt at contrition revealed himself in a way that I never thought possible. They counteracted each other, his infidelity cancelled out by the fact that he had opened up, expressed his pain, sorrow, suffering, wants. I didn’t know what to think. Part of me wanted to despise him, abandon him, forget that I had ever known him; another part longed to kiss him, embrace him, thank him for sharing such personal and raw revelations. If it had been any other person, I wouldn’t have considered the exchange so precious, but with Severus, I could only imagine how difficult it was for him to open up. I had always known he was a guarded individual, an introvert that shut himself off from the world, so naturally I was surprised when he allowed me a glimpse of susceptibility beneath his otherwise hardened exterior. It was painful for him; the way he gripped my waist, my hands, wrapped my wrists in his vice-like grip betrayed his anxiety.

I was walking down the hallway towards the Great Hall for lunch, when I came across Professor Faire, who was rapping on the wall, ear pressed against the stone. My mind was heavy with so many tangents and ponderings and questions that I didn’t notice his presence until it was too late. He caught the front of my robes, stopping me in my tracks.

"Evelyn," he trilled brightly. I stepped back in an attempt to wrest my robes from his grasp and he reluctantly let go of the fabric.

"Oh, hello Professor Faire."

He leaned in close. "Most of the students call me Jonathan, and you're certainly welcome to do the same."

"Oh I..." A rustling sound caught my attention, and I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see Snape lurking in the shadows. Suddenly, I was struck with an idea. "Yes, I should like that, Jonathan." I gave him my brightest, most alluring smile and stepped closer to him.

"How is the apprenticeship application coming along?" He ran his fingers through his lustrous golden locks, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

"I sent it in yesterday. It was my birthday, you know." I wetted my lips and looked up at him through my lashes. Flirtations like these were inane and tedious, but an opportunity for revenge might not present itself again, and I planned to make use of it. I was jealous. There was no denying it. I was jealous of Aurora, of the hold she had on Severus, her large breasts and pretty figure, of her feminine airs and grace. I had forgiven Severus for what he had done, it was resolved, but how was I supposed to resist the temptation of making him seethe with envy? I wanted him to feel the way I did, to understand the feeling, the sharp pangs of jealousy gripping his viscera, rattling his brain.

"How old are you now?" Faire enquired, glancing down the front of my robes. I hunched my shoulders in an attempt to make my breasts less pronounced, but that only served to widen the gap between my blouse and flesh.

"Eighteen. I'm positively decrepit, aren't I?"

He laughed loudly and "accidentally" brushed his hand against my hip. I shivered in repulsion but smiled.

"What are you apprenticing in again?"

"Charms, actually. It's my best subject."

"And what did you put down as your second choice?"

"Defence Against the Dark Arts," I lied. It was Potions, of course, but I couldn't resist. I wanted Severus to suffer, to really regret what he had done, and flirting with Faire was certainly a start.

Serves him right for skulking in the shadows and listening in on other people's conversations.

“Really? Well, why didn’t you say something? Do I need to do anything?”

“Oh no, of course not. The only reason I’d have to switch is if something happened to Professor Flitwick, and that’s highly unlikely.”

He stared silently at me, intense, penetrating, and I squirmed in discomfort. Suddenly, a smile twisted his lips, but his eyes were devoid of any mirth or amusement. The grin was hollow, devious.

"Were you, erm, looking for something?"

"Yes, actually I was looking for Severus's office."

"Oh, it's just down the way." I pointed down along the staircase into the murky shadows. "You'll sense it."

He pressed closer to me and rubbed my back for a moment. "Thank you. Enjoy your lunch, Evelyn."

Faire set off in the direction of Snape's office, and I tripped merrily up the steps, pleased with the exchange.

Someone caught hold of me and pushed me against the wall, wrenching my shoulder in the process.

"Hello, Professor Snape. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Detention, my office. Tonight."

"Whatever for?" I inquired brightly. But I was distressed by his anger, the way he gripped me, eyes narrowed, nostrils flared. The flirtation was nothing more than a joke, and I resented him for taking it so seriously. "Besides, I have practise until ten o'clock with Professor Flitwick."

"My office. Ten thirty. Do I make myself clear?"

"Positively limpid."

He glared, jaw thrust forward, but let me go. I watched him sink into the shadows, my eyes fixed on his frame, until he was entirely out of sight. I had endured his hand and the rattan; what more could he possibly do?

--/\--

"It went well, didn't it, Professor?" I pulled the elastic band out of my hair and combed the strands with my fingers.

"Oh, quite," Flitwick returned. "I'm sorry I've kept you so late, Miss Harper. I hope you didn't have any work to do."

I turned to look at the clock and gulped. Ten forty-three. "It's all right, Professor. I had completely forgotten about that anticlockwise wrist flourish on the Circean Charms. These sessions will really help me remember everything I've forgotten over the years. Same time tomorrow, then?"

"Yes, I think that would be best. I would rather have you over-prepared than anything. Do you need a pass?"

"No, I'm a prefect."

"Of course. Well goodnight, Miss Harper."

"Goodnight, sir."

I walked slowly down to the dungeons, taking my sweet time, trailing my fingers across the cool stones, moss bits collecting under my fingertips. I was already late and knew that Severus wouldn't discriminate between a minute and an hour; late was late to him. I also knew that the fact that Professor Flitwick kept me after wouldn't mean anything.

Eventually, I reached his office and rapped idly on the door. It was jerked open quite violently, and I backed up.

"Get in," Severus hissed dangerously.

"Sorry I'm late," I breathed, stepping through the doorway. "Flitwick kept me longer than I expected."

"I said half past."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, making sure to turn away so he wouldn't see. I could tell that he was still angry about earlier and that my tardiness only exacerbated his ire, but there was little I could do to soothe it. I would take whatever he dealt and that would be the end of it.

“Sit down.” I set myself in the seat just before his desk watched as he began to remove his robes, waistcoat, rolled up the sleeves of his Oxford shirt. I smiled. I shouldn’t have; Lord knows I should have been frightened out of my wits, but it couldn't be helped. The gesture was so familiar and left no room for interpretation. With any other individual, the act of removing one’s outer garments could indicate a variety of things: they’re warm, uncomfortable, or preparing to disrobe entirely. But with Severus, the deliberate and drawn-out manner with which he stripped always indicated that I was to be chastised. His long, adroit fingers pushed the fabric of his sleeves, exposing his pale forearms. Thin, dark hair spanned across the tops but the undersides were smooth, and I caught sight of a hazy mark just above his left wrist. He didn't realise that I had seen it and left it exposed, the shadow fixing my eyes to the spot.

He took a seat behind his desk, arms stretched out across it, fingers steepled. "Miss Harper--"

In some wretched impulse, I gripped his wrist, stretching the limb out across the tabletop. There it was. A shadow, a strange sort of blemish on his arm. I knew what it was, what it had been, what it represented. The Dark Mark, or, at least, what remained of it. He had always been careful to hide from me, the limb tilted so it was out sight and, therefore, out of mind.

"Why?" he spat, a spasm of anguish gripping his features. He wrenched his wrist from my grip and held it against his chest. "Get out."

"What?" I panicked. I didn't understand what I had done wrong, why he was so upset. Certainly, taking an interest in that wasn't objectionable.

"Get out," he repeated. He shut his eyes, jaw clenched. The look of absolute torment that settled on his face, his ashen skin, glazed eyes were frightening to say the least. He stood up and moved towards the door to his chambers.

I couldn't let him go. I would lose him, and I couldn't afford to. I needed him, wanted him, craved his touch, his caresses, his intoxicating voice. I caught him by the arm, held onto the crook of his elbow, fingers digging into the venous flesh. “Please.”

Severus turned to stare at me, eyes colder and harder than I had ever seen them. I could feel myself wilting under his scrutiny, but I maintained my grasp on his forearm. I wetted my lips and slowly pulled the limb taut, exposing the length of skin. My eyes flicked up to his, and I noticed that his anger had melted away; what was left was a disarming resignation. His eyes were fixed to the ground, mouth turned down at the corners. I studied his features for strain or distress, anything that might indicate he was only suppressing his ire, but I found none. I studied the mark, entranced by the way the stain was like smoke along his skin, an undefined shadow that fell across the flesh. I let his arm fall to his side. His silence was disturbing, and I willed him to say something—anything, just to assure me that I hadn’t spoiled our relationship. He didn’t.

“Why is it still there?” What I was doing was beyond dangerous; it was deadly. But it was also my last chance at setting things right. I had unintentionally injured him with my curiosity and needed to convince him that it didn’t matter... It didn’t matter to me. Perhaps it should have. I should have been frightened and uncomfortable and I should have made my distaste for his past known, but I wasn’t scared of him and I didn’t feel any distaste, just sadness, a touch of sorrow at the thought of all he’d been through, all that he had done.

“The Mark is indelible,” he replied, eyes fixed on the far wall. “Not even his death could erase the stain...”

“Oh,” I replied slowly. I didn’t know what to say, how to respond. I stood there, trying to think of a way to diffuse the situation. There was only one thing I could think to do, one thing that would disarm him enough to see that his past meant very little to me.

I dropped to my knees and made a move to unzip the front of his trousers, but he caught my wrists, staying them.

“We’re having a discussion about the Dark Mark and you...” He looked down at me, confused, perhaps disgusted, but there was a familiar gleam in his eyes that belied his apparent revulsion.

“Yes! It’s been nearly three weeks since I’ve been with you, and I’m through discussing such sombre things.”

“That’s it then? ‘I don’t feel like talking about it any longer, so instead I’m going to perform oral sex’.”

I thought about it for a moment. “That sounds about right.”

“You must be mad.”

I scoffed. “Not any madder than you are.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Really? I thought I was genuflecting.”

Severus paused, and I held my breath in anticipation. He released my wrists from his grasp and smirked. “Continue.”

I could feel a smile slide across my lips. Perhaps I was deflecting, perhaps the issue had never really been settled, but that was our way. It may not have been a healthy practice—dismissing such serious topics without finding “closure”—but it worked. Everything would resolve itself eventually, everything would spill over at one point or another, but by then our relationship would be stronger, I hoped. I realised how frangible our dynamic was, how even the slightest misstep could destroy it, but I also realised that Severus wasn’t content to let it be destroyed by misunderstandings and injured feelings. There was hope, and at that point in my life, hope was all I needed to sustain me. The idea that things would work themselves out was delusional, and I knew it. I was going to be married in June, I was going to be torn away from this man, the happiness that I knew with him dashed and decimated. But God, I clung to that hope, willing the world to melt away and leave Severus and me to be happy together.

“What are you waiting for, Harper?”

I removed his flaccid member and shook my head at the sight of it. It was such a preposterous thing, the way it looked and felt and tasted absurd. I thought about the first time I’d seen it, how curious and confused I had been. Not much had changed; I was still fascinated by the appendage, still slightly perplexed by its structure and the fact that it moved on its own accord. It twitched and hardened as I felt its length with my fingertips, stroking, flicking along the fraenulum. Severus grunted and sighed as I pushed my lips to the tip, slipping along as little pearls collected on the surface. It had been too long, I ached for him, felt my heart rise up in my throat, pined for the feeling of his skin on mine. He slid between my lips, rubbing himself against my tongue, careful not to push me too far. But I wanted to be pushed. Licking and sucking, I took him inside of me, swallowing him again and again, achieving the ne plus ultra of penetration before he spent himself with a violent thrust and cruel tug on my hair.

Severus leaned heavily against the stone wall, palm resting on the crown of my head, smoothing the hair down, scratching lightly at the scalp. I licked my dry lips, and tucked his member safely away, before leaning back onto my haunches.

“Good?” I panted, pushing my fringe off my brow.

He laughed. It was genuine and deep and beautiful, rich syllables, brassy. “Evelyn Harper... Yes, very good.”

I nodded, pleased.

He helped me off the ground and secured his arm around my waist, pressing me against him.

“Tonight’s lesson is ‘reciprocity’,” he began, his voice pedantic and dry.

“Oh.” I eyed him suspiciously. “Reciprocity. I should say that I always take care to reciprocate.”

“I know you do,” he returned patronisingly. “I mean that it’s time for me to reciprocate.”

I could feel my cheeks flood with colour. “Oh, of course.” The last time he had used his mouth on me was our first night together. It had been pleasurable, but embarrassing to say the least.

“You’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m sure.”

He laughed again and hurried me to the bedroom. Severus wasted no time in pushing me down onto the sheets, hiking my skirt up around my hips, and tugging my sopping knickers away from my sex. I was aroused, but uncomfortable. I hated exposing myself like this, my labia and clitoris in full view, his eyes fixed to them.

“Lovely,” he breathed.

I snorted. “Right.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Are you calling me a liar, Miss Harper?”

“No,” I squeaked, cowed by his rigid posture and contemptuous sneer.

I inhaled sharply and pressed my eyes shut as he descended on me, breath licking along my sex, his mouth centimetres away from my wet folds.

“Eyes open, Miss Harper. I want you to watch.”

My eyes were fixed to the sight of him pressed between my splayed thighs, but soon rolled up towards the ceiling in pleasure. Without the thought of my deflowering weighing on me, the sensation was much more enjoyable. Severus pressed his tongue against my sex, lapping at the skin with his broad, textured muscle, before wiggling it between my lips. I could feel my legs jolt shut, but Severus caught them and forced them further apart until they were butterflied against the mattress. His nose pressed into me, fingers soon joined his tongue inside of me, thrusting. The tip of his tongue swirled against my clit, flicking along my button incessantly. I cried out, pressing down onto him, willing him to go deeper, faster, harder. Instead he pulled back, his tongue only just touching my nethers, and arched an eyebrow. Something snapped. I gripped his hair and forced his mouth to my lips before throwing my leg over his shoulder. I pressed my heel into the juncture of his arm and torso before grinding against him ruthlessly. Moans and loud cries filled the room and it took me a moment to realise that they were my own satisfied articulations. I took hold of my breasts and let my fingers dance around the flesh before pinching and tugging the nipples in tandem with Severus’s thrusting. With one final assault on my clit, I came, walls pulsing around his fingers, hips arching off the bed.

Eventually, I calmed down and pulled away from Severus’s reclining form. He sat up and dabbed mockingly at the corners of his mouth; I could feel a smile tug at my lips and tried to suppress it, but it broke and settled across my face.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “That was...”

“Good?” he offered, working on the buttons of his shirt.

“Very.”

We stripped down in silence. It was clear to both of us that the night was far from over.

He sat erect, legs planted firmly on the stone floor, spine straight. I lay on my back and gazed up at him. He seemed to be deep in thought, brow furrowed, mouth compressed.

Severus broke the silence. “Faire—”

“Can we please not talk about it?” I implored, my voice soft and eyes wide. It would spoil everything if he brought up today’s events. Severus drew me across his lap and drummed a tattoo along my spine.

“But we must,” he explained

“Really?”

“Really, Evelyn… the fact of the matter is associating with that man is unsafe and unwise—”

“I know,” I cut in, blushing.

Severus continued, silencing me with a cruel pinch on my posterior. “Not only because he is Lucius's nephew and therefore an enemy, but also because of his previous advances towards you. He is dangerous...” His hands pressed onto my upper back, securing me across his thighs. “I regret ever engaging Aurora, I regret hurting you, but at least my motives for straying were purer than yours, which were based solely on spite and youthful imprudence. I see why you would have been upset by my behaviour. It was less than commendable, and I do apologise. But my actions do not, in any way, justify yours. Don't you agree?"

“Yes,” I breathed. “I am sorry, Professor. Really, I—”

“Then your punishment shall commence.”

But it wasn’t really a punishment, not a proper one, anyway. He was careless and only teased me with the smacks. Palm playing on my buttocks, soft cries of pleasure pushed through my lips as he abandoned the half-hearted castigation for a more rewarding endeavour. Fingers pressed into my folds, and I winced and they played inside me, my sex hyper-sensitised by his earlier ministrations. I moaned and pushed against him as he added a third finger, the digits pistoning into me, drilling. It wasn't enough.

I crawled off his lap and lurched forward as he pushed himself into me, stretching me apart.

“Jesus!” I cried out as his fingers played and pinched my clit, making my braced elbows buckle slightly and eyes widen.

“I’m fucking you,” he grunted, coating his fingers in my juices. “And you’re thinking about God.”

“Yes!” He pressed himself on top of me, opened his thighs around my legs, pushed at some sublime angle that made my mind cloud over with unadulterated pleasure. I hardly noticed when he slipped his fingers into my bum, stretching me, loosening that tight little ring of muscles. I was adrift, caught in whorls and eddies of pleasure, drowning in it. Thrust after thrust, I pushed back against him until it overwhelmed me. With a strangled cry and violent exhalation, I came, Severus following just after. He held me to him, my back against him front, cupping me in some sort of tender embrace.

That night left me conflicted. His betrayal, his remorse, his intoxicating presence crowded my mind. I couldn’t understand why I felt the way I did, conflicted, swelling with so many emotions that it was hard to distinguish between them. They’d aggregated into a sensation so intense that I felt if I didn’t sort everything out, I’d lose myself in the sheer potency of it. And then I realised that it didn’t matter. I was going to be married in five months time, and after that, I’d never be with Severus again. He wasn’t my lover. He wasn’t mine to have and to hold. He wasn’t a permanent fixture in my life, just a means of soothing the pain. I wanted to assure that the months leading up to that fateful day were pleasurable and wonderful and ecstatic because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever experience those sensations again. And Severus offered me that. I was an inebriate, an addict, drunk on his existence, his power, his voice. To have another body beside me, to have him touch me, kiss me, want me, possess me was the greatest validation I had ever known. I pressed my flesh to his that night, praying that it would last, that it would endure, at least until June. I could survive, I could live without him—I had to—but only if he was with me until that fateful day when I’d pass from his arms into another’s. I prayed that it would be enough.