Chapter 6
I still can’t believe Snape of all people was the first person to get into your knickers,” Celeste cackled maniacally from her bed.
I had spent the night in the Hospital Wing because of the concussion, and as a result was excused from classes the next day. It wasn’t until my friends returned to our room after the school day that Friday that I was able to see them for the first time since everything occurred.
I hadn’t breathed a word about the bond, or Snape at all for that matter. After discussing it with Dumbledore, Madame Pomfrey had encouraged me to keep it quiet for now. They would address it with the student body when and if it became necessary, but we were otherwise directed to be discreet. Still, I hadn’t exactly decided how I would lie to my friends about where I was spending all my time, or with who. Eventually, I wasn’t sure I’d even be able to continue sleeping in my room. I supposed it depended on how the bond progressed. Madame Pomfrey had told me that in some cases, even when the bond is consummated, it sets the magic into a frenzy. In such circumstances, it’s believed that the bond doesn’t feel settled enough to accept consummation alone, fearing that physical intimacy alone isn’t enough to ensure the pair will commit fully to one another, and somehow propelled the two to connect emotionally. I couldn’t exactly imagine sitting with Snape and discussing our feelings. Hell, I couldn’t imagine him talking much to me at all. My chest pained a little at the thought, and I suspected it had something to do with wand stashed in my nightstand.
As much as that unnerved me, I didn’t want to dwell on it. Stressing about the future wouldn’t change it. We were tied together, irrevocably, forever. We might as well be adorning matching rings. That thought made my stomach turn. What would people think when I did graduate and it was finally, truly safe to share the information? When we did get married. If we got married. Would he eventually want to? Would they think he was a perverted old man who’d been corrupting me all along? Would he lose his job? Would my friends disentangle themselves from me to escape him considering he wasn’t exactly a well-liked professor? I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t be sure. One day at a time. That was hard to do when Celeste said things like that.
I chucked a small lumbar pillow at her head and fell back against my pillows, glaring at my friend. The anger didn’t last long, however, as the more she stared at me with that simpering gaze, the more I felt myself give in to my own amusement, cracking an embarrassed smile. My other roommates began to laugh, too.
It was positively absurd. I had every opportunity to be intimate with someone else. Not knowing about the bond gave me the freedom to pursue anyone or anything I wanted without fear of commitment or ruining a potential relationship. And I’d had the chance. I’d been flirted with and asked out on dates. Two or three had even been so bold as to outright ask me to hook up with them. And yet, I had refused. Whether there was any merit or credit owed to my sub-conscience, I didn’t know. I didn’t think it mattered much. I could say, however, that with absolute, total honesty — I had never been attracted, sexually or emotionally, to any other boy I’d encountered at Hogwarts, or even on holiday when I was at home. I just…never felt anything. I’d even gone as far as considering if I could perhaps be asexual. It wasn’t a far leap. I could admire beauty, but I didn’t desire to indulge in it. It was as appealing to me as art, beautiful to look at, to admire, but good for nothing other than that.
“Seriously,” Amelia said, curling herself around the pillow in her lap. She perched her head on it and caught my eye, “What was that like?”
The other girls quieted on their own beds, intent on hearing my answer. I sighed and shook my head, glancing down uncomfortably at the bruises around my wrists, from where he’d snatched them upwards to pin to the wall. The imprint still held the shape of his hand, the scratches from the stone.
“It hurt like hell,” I admitted humorously, though that didn’t appease their interest. They still waited expectantly, albeit with apprehensive expressions.
I rolled my eyes. “It was surprising, obviously. Fred and George had just told me what they had done before he walked into the room, so I had no idea what to expect. He wasn’t exactly gentle.”
Celeste snorted, “Clearly.”
“I can’t believe you hit your head hard enough to get a concussion,” Leanne commented, muffled by a mouthful of licorice.
“Yeah,” I frowned, ghosting my hand over the tender part of my skull.
“What’s he smell like?” Amelia asked, frowning. “Better yet, what did he taste like?”
“Such foolish questions,” Arya snipped, glancing over the spine of her book. She was still studying despite the conversation around her, or so I thought. She delicately placed her bookmark and snapped the tome shut. “Is he a decent snog? Did you feel his willy against you?” She teased.
“Oh. My. Gods. Why didn’t I think to ask that,” Celeste cursed.
“I reckon it’s big, at least his balls have to be. He didn’t speak a word about it today and acted like nothing had happened,” Amelia giggled.
“Tell that to the twelve students still sitting in detention for snickering about it in the halls,” Leanne quipped.
I nibbled on the inside of my lip, still tender from where his teeth had nibbled, and not so gently at that.
“Well?” Arya prompted.
I laughed at the seriousness in their expressions. Little did they know. Still, these conversations always occurred after one of us hooked up with a boy. Everyone wanted all the details, and given so many of them had experienced a few of the same boys, it was endlessly entertaining. But this was different. This wasn’t just a boy I had snogged in the stairwell after classes. He wasn’t just a boy who had felt me up after a dance. This was the man I was going to be spending the rest of my life with. This was a man, not a naughty school boy intent on getting his whick wet. Knowing all that, I still couldn’t tell them nothing. It had still been my first experience, and I had never shied away from discussing personal things with them before. Not doing so would seem too suspicious, and I couldn’t be the one to expose this. At least not yet. While some of them may be discreet, I couldn’t trust them all to retain their silence. Especially, Amelia, who would immediately tell Ari, who in turn would confide in Elijah and on and on it would go.
“He smells like…books, and potions, and tea, but also like a grown man — I don’t know.”
“Why does that kind of turn me on,” Leanne mumbled.
Arya gasped and chucked a handful of popcorn at her.
“You horny, little witch….Go on, Alyssa.”
“Erm, what else did you ask? Oh, I don’t think I could taste much,” I winced, licking my lip for emphasis.
“So I take it the kissing was unpleasant,” Amelia scowled.
“Are you kidding? Look at her! She looks thoroughly fucked. In a good way, that is. Mind you, had I come back looking like that after being with a boy you all would’ve congratulated me for finding one with such confidence in the bedroom,” Celeste smirked proudly, her hazel eyes scanning over me. “A girl does enjoy being thrown around every now and then.”
I choked on my water and shook my head at her, rubbing my chest as I sputtered. It was still rather sore, and my nipples, gods, were they sensitive. Even the feeling of this shirt felt scathing.
“Actually, not all girls,” Arya corrected her. “And she looks as if she was beaten to a bloody pulp! Bruised wrists, a concussion, bite marks — not love bites — actual bite marks with teeth imprints on her neck and chest —“
“So hot,” Leanne moaned, falling backwards against her pillows dramatically.
“And a bloody lip!” Arya finished, ignored her closest friend.
“Was it though? Were you turned on by it? Forget who it was for a moment, did it feel good?” Amelia teased.
My face heated at the demand. It was probably more because of who it was, and less about what he did, if I had to guess. But yes, I had been shockingly very turned on, and very, very wet.
“I heard he was licking his fingers after he was snatched away from you. After he had his hand down your knickers,” Celeste said smoothly.
“What?” I gaped. “Where did you hear that?”
The thought made my core churn with arousal and anxiety. Had he actually done that? Surely not. Oh gods, if he had I was certain I would never be able to look him in the eyes again. I imagined him sucking those long digits into his mouth, tasting me on that delightfully skilled tongue. Merlin, he’d already tasted my mouth and my breasts. Could that have been much worse? I thought about how damp my knickers had been afterwards. Yes, it was much worse. Mortification lit me on fire and I pushed back the bedding slightly, feeling uncomfortably warm.
“The Head Girl of Ravenclaw was the first person they sent down to help pry him off you. Apparently, Fred had shouted at her on his way to find Dumbledore,” she explained.
I didn’t remember seeing her, but by the time I was able to see anything other than him, it was only Dumbledore who held Snape at bay with a petrification charm, and Madame Pomfrey who covered me up and helped me to the Hospital Wing.
“Oh, oh my,” Leanne tutted. “If you think you’re embarrassed, wait until he has to teach a class next time you’re there. All he’s going to be able to think about is your rather generous tits and the taste of your cunt. He’s going to be hard-pressed to maintain his focus.”
We all erupted into a bit of a giggle, even though those words were probably true for more than one reason. He wouldn’t be able to resist thinking about it eventually, because one day, potentially soon, it would be all either us would be able to focus on.
***
I had been grateful for the weekend reprieve from classes. I spent all of Saturday in bed, reigning in my thoughts and catching up on all of the work I had missed. I hadn’t seen Snape yet, and I could certainly tell. My mind was reeling again, spinning away from me at every distraction, and already my chest was beginning to ache with an emptiness I couldn’t possibly explain away. It was bearable, not necessarily painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It felt like there was a weight on my chest, similar to anxiety, but colder, duller, and oppressive. I doubted we’d make it a week before needing to reunite in some way.
I finally left my room on Sunday, and I was entirely indebted to Celeste, who, against my will, dragged me to Hogsmeade and demanded me to drink with her. While I only partook in one glass of fire whisky, which was enough to make me feel woozy, she’d had four, against my insistence that she stopped. Each time I’d turn to grab my bag and drag her back to the school, she disappear, only to be downing another glass she’d already retrieved. Deciding to leave her in Amelia’s hands while I ran to the loo, Celeste instantly found herself in trouble.
In her drunken stupor, she boldly stepped up and snogged a sixth year Gryffindor, whose girlfriend had been standing a mere arm’s length away from him. And when he had grabbed Celeste’s arse in the embrace, his vengeful, young girlfriend slapped him across his face, and poured a butterbeer over his head. After which, Celeste promptly vomited on his shoes.
It wasn’t until that night, when I’d gotten Celeste cleaned up and tucked into bed that I realized what had happened. She rolled over and grabbed my arm, grinning stupidly up at me.
“I’m a really great friend,” she slurred, making my lips quirk at the remark.
“Yes you are,” I admitted.
And she was, despite her lack of judgement that day, and Amelia’s leniency in watching her. Celeste had always looked out for me and done everything in her power to uplift me. I never felt judged or disrespected, ignored or embarrassed by her. She defended and supported me with a fierceness and a loyalty I had never felt from anyone else, including my family. And I did my best to be that for her. Still, I wished for her to one day find someone worthy of that — of that sort of blind devotion. Someone who would never take advantage of it or exploit that.
“Now they’ll all be talking about me tomorrow,” she breathed, releasing me and rolling back over, “not you.”
My heart dropped. I had been reluctant to go out with her that morning because my anxiety had been all-consuming. I knew that the whispers and rumors would all blow over soon, but it didn’t diminish my nervousness about being back in classes tomorrow, or about the fading marks still dotting my skin. When she insisted it was for my own good, I acquiesced, determined to get it over with in a format that wasn’t class.
But to protect me, as ridiculous as it was, she made a fool of herself. She willingly got drunk off her arse and made an absolute ninny out of herself, all so people would be gossiping about that display tomorrow, and not the incident with Professor Snape. As taboo as it was for Snape to have attacked me like that — he was under the effects of a potion and unable to control himself. Celeste on the other hand, had created something even more exciting to talk about. Because not only had she gotten pissed, she shoved her tongue down the throat of a boy younger than her, while his girlfriend had practically been holding his hand. And then he was slapped, soaked with butterbeer, and vomitted on.
Oh I certainly owed Celeste for this.