Alone
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
960
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
960
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Meeting
A dream. A woman at Hogwarts and Snape in his chambers. That led to interesting events... I\'m a bit shy. Give me time, a chance, and feedback. Thanks.
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Doors opening. Silence to be enjoyed. Fires to warm the icy room. Slytherin rug for house loyalty. Books for intellectual pursuits. Wine for the delicate spice of taste. A chair for quiet nights. A silken bed for troubled sleep. Stone walls to keep the world out. Darkness to engulf the brooding emotions.
I would creep in, for fear of disturbing the blissful silence. I’d shiver slightly; the air’s frigid with apathy. He’d be sitting there, ever aware of my intruding presence, so glaringly obvious to one whom has mastered his environment. My breath would catch; he would gaze at me, his glacial eyes cutting my warm flesh. I would move closer, my shoes slipping from my cautious feet and left forgotten near the portal.
He would finally rise; his black robes swirling with his lithe form. Purposeful strides, eye to eye. Utterances swallowed by the weight of a meeting. My hand smoothly brushing his pallid cheek. Too distant for an embrace, too close for detachment.
His soft lips. Sneers slip away into the tangent of the physical. A cold hand, trickling ice down a bare neck. Tempting nips and faded necessities.
Swift to the fine touch of silk. Slithering in lust, lost in carnality. Control forced upon the other. Lines of claws and the arches of abandonment.
Restrained breath. Limbs entwined, indifference muffling emotion. Silence and satisfaction labyrinthine. Eyes shifted. Object to pedestal, ensnared within the abyss of the otheorpsorpse’s porcelain hand slid from visage.
Oblivion at the edge of darkness. Lost beyond words. Lost.
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Doors opening. Silence to be enjoyed. Fires to warm the icy room. Slytherin rug for house loyalty. Books for intellectual pursuits. Wine for the delicate spice of taste. A chair for quiet nights. A silken bed for troubled sleep. Stone walls to keep the world out. Darkness to engulf the brooding emotions.
I would creep in, for fear of disturbing the blissful silence. I’d shiver slightly; the air’s frigid with apathy. He’d be sitting there, ever aware of my intruding presence, so glaringly obvious to one whom has mastered his environment. My breath would catch; he would gaze at me, his glacial eyes cutting my warm flesh. I would move closer, my shoes slipping from my cautious feet and left forgotten near the portal.
He would finally rise; his black robes swirling with his lithe form. Purposeful strides, eye to eye. Utterances swallowed by the weight of a meeting. My hand smoothly brushing his pallid cheek. Too distant for an embrace, too close for detachment.
His soft lips. Sneers slip away into the tangent of the physical. A cold hand, trickling ice down a bare neck. Tempting nips and faded necessities.
Swift to the fine touch of silk. Slithering in lust, lost in carnality. Control forced upon the other. Lines of claws and the arches of abandonment.
Restrained breath. Limbs entwined, indifference muffling emotion. Silence and satisfaction labyrinthine. Eyes shifted. Object to pedestal, ensnared within the abyss of the otheorpsorpse’s porcelain hand slid from visage.
Oblivion at the edge of darkness. Lost beyond words. Lost.