Chapter 7
As expected, there were very few whispers about me the next morning, and dozens about Celeste. Unlike me, she didn’t shy away from attention. She winked and smirked and giggled and made eye contact with everyone she heard speak her name, and felt no shame from it. I had never known Celeste to feel shame or embarrassment, but I had seen her struggle to be emotionally available. Physicality came easy to her, it was everything else she struggled with. And that was where I was able to support her. And I would. Until my last breath, I would. And because of her, I was able to walk into every class with my head held high. There were still a few glances, a few who pointed and stared, but I wouldn’t allow what she did to be for nothing. I tuned them out and kept my mind clear. At least, until Advanced Potions.
The worktop in front of me was empty when I sat down, and the walk to class seemed far less entertaining than usual. As odd as it was, I did find myself missing the twins. It also meant that there was no one obstructing Snape’s view of me or my view of him. There were no whispers in that class. No one looked at me when I walked in, and no one spoke a word, all diligently writing, reading, or prepping their desks for the day. It was clear to me then, that Snape had also said or done something to prevent any lingering discomfort about the matter.
When he paced in from the back of the room, he flicked his wand at the board, revealing his elegant writing. A new potion was on the board.
“Write it down, and then brew it. You may be dismissed once you finish the first stage.”
That was a first. I couldn’t recall ever being dismissed from his class early. He didn’t meet my eyes, or even acknowledge me for the entire duration of class. No one else uttered a word. The room was filled with the rolling, bubbling of the cauldrons, and the soft thudding of dull knives on wooden boards. I followed his directions, but I still kept trying to catch his gaze all the while. I didn’t want anything. I didn’t need anything. I just…well, I guess I did need him to at least look at me. I needed to know that he couldn’t just ignore this, that he had some thoughts or feelings on the matter — good or bad. Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice as slowly, one by one, students left the room. Having finished the assignment, they were all desperate to be done for the day, or to just escape this room, I wasn’t sure.
When it came down to me and one other Slytherin student, the blonde-haired boy stood up, suspending his potion in stasis, and left the room. He met my eyes quickly on his way out, and gave me an apologetic smile. Well, shit.
I hurried, finishing the last two steps, and followed suit. I carefully floated my cauldron to the front of the room, and settled it on the empty spot left. Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, his forearms resting stiffly on the surface. There was a quill in his hand, and a stack of papers in front of it. He was grading our assignments from last week. Rather, he had been. Now he was watching me, silently.
I swallowed hard at the intensity of his gaze. It made me want to open a portal in the floor and jump through it.
“You are already feeling its effects again. They’re different this time.”
It wasn’t a question. I drew in a shaky breath and lowered my wand to my side, nodding. “Are you?”
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.
Evidently, the time for open discussions and full transparency had passed. I tried not to be hurt by it, but it bristled, and that living, breathing bond inside of me felt it. My chest burned, and not just with indignation.
“Did you discuss it with Dumbledore?”
My question hung thickly in the air as he continued to stare at me, like he was trying to look through to my very soul. He deposited his quill in the inkwell, and with a wave of his hand, the door at the back of the classroom slammed shut, and a sound-proofing charm fell over the room.
“At length. We’ve come to an understanding on how to address this with the Ministry and with the students. For now, we will attempt to subdue it for as long as possible and keep it quiet. If it becomes too difficult to do so, Dumbledore will address the students at an assembly — one that you and I will not be present for as to avoid any encouragement for theatrics. The ministry has already been informed. Each bond has to be registered once it makes itself known anyhow. They are aware of the situation, and there are to be no consequences. The minister understands the volatility of this magic if it is manipulated, and given that you are now of age, they have no intention of interfering with the natural progression of things.”
I nodded my understanding, trying not to let the sound of his voice corrupt my thoughts.
“And how would you like to subdue it, exactly?” I flushed at the question.
I knew that it would require some form of intimacy, and I wasn’t asking for those sorts of details, just the timeline and general thought process. Regardless, I realized that’s probably not how it came across. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by it, though, and gave me an honest answer.
“I expected this to begin next week, however it seems our previous encounter has sped the process up slightly. I would expect you to remain after class, as you have today, and accompany me to my chambers. Proximity alone should be enough to appease the bond for a while. You may work on assignments, read, whatever it is that you do while I finish working. Eventually, that will morph into…other things, and if we are successful, perhaps we will not need to make any changes to accommodations for the remainder of this term.”
I did my best not to think too hard about that.
“So, should we do that today?”
“Ideally, yes. The more receptive the bond believes us to be, the less likely it is that it will force us together so urgently. Do you have an excuse prepared for any prying minds?” I assumed he referred to my friends, and I cleared my throat.
“I told them that Madame Pomfrey was going to request to see me from time to time, and that I would be counseled by Dumbledore occasionally to ensure there was no prejudice or animosity left between the two of us.”
He nodded curtly, glancing down at the items on his desk.
“Gather your belongings, Miss Hellstrand, I expect you’ll want something to occupy your time.”
I inhaled, feeling trepidation creep up into my stomach, but I obeyed, walking quietly back towards my desk at the back of the room.
We were both already exhibiting symptoms. I didn’t know what his were but he had already admitted they were at least there. Once all of my things were packed away into my satchel, I followed him to the door at the front of the classroom, the one he’d exited before I was attacked, and found it was a hidden corridor. It had very few openings to it, but if I catalogued the layout of the dungeons correctly, the door we passed on the right side about thirty meters down, belonged to his office, and another thirty meters or so led us straight to his chambers. I watched in silence as he rapped on different bricks with his wand, and the door opened with a soft click.
He stepped in, leaving it open for me as he meandered towards the kitchenette. It was actually a spacious, lovely set of rooms, to my surprise. Directly to my right was the kitchenette. It was small, but large enough to hold a stove, a cold box, and a sink, broken by mahogany counter space and marching cabinetry. Just past that sat a seldom used dining table, made of the same wood, complete with four chairs, only one of which appeared to ever be used. It sat out just a bit further, and held a fresh copy of The Daily Prophet folded in front of it on the table, as though he’d read it just that morning.
To my left was clearly where he spent most of his time. The entire back wall was lined with books, something he undoubtedly used to pass his time. The shelf was filled to the brim, where the ones in the back had once been neatly organized, alphabetically, I surmised, the space was limited, leaving him to stack books horizontally in front of them, also sorted in some sort of system.
In front of that, nestled closer to the middle of the room, near to the sizzling hearth, was a chestnut leather couch, stiff as if it had just been purchased. On either side, situated comfortably apart, were matching beige, armchairs, cloth, with small cushions of a faded pattern that I expected came with the furniture. There were also two ebony side tables, round and just large enough to hold what I would consider bare necessities. The one closest to me had only a tapered candle sitting atop a gold dish, which appeared to be very seldom lit. The other had a bronze lamp with a cream-colored lampshade. And behind that, all the way to the left, was a window that occupied half of the center of the wall. Either side held similarly overflowing bookshelves, and in front of it, another wooden desk almost identical to the one in his classroom.
“Tea?” He inquired blandly, taking two mugs from the cabinet.
“Please,” I said, glancing in front of me.
Several paces away sat only one door, and I knew it could only lead to his room. I tried not to think about that as I hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to do after I shut the door. Sensing my uncertainty, he motioned towards the couch with a nod of his head. I sat down on the end closest to kitchen, gathering that the armchair furthest from it seemed to be the most worn, and therefore probably his preferred seat.
When he carried both mugs toward the sitting room, he set mine down on the table next to me and maneuvered gracefully to his desk.
“How did you know how I take my tea?” I asked curiously, nothing the perfect caramel color. One sip confirmed it was exactly as I would’ve have prepared it myself.
“One tends to notice things after six years, Miss Hellstrand.”
I wasn’t sure what to say back so I simply collected my bag while he lifted a stack of papers from the edge and dragged it in front of him. There was a distant clinking as he unstoppered his inkwell and began scratching out things on the pages. I prayed it was papers from the first years and nothing from any of my peers by the sounds of it.
Transfigurations was not my favorite subject, but I did well enough in it. This week we were reviewing a few chapters and notating any distinct differences between the motions of transfiguring large creatures into equally large objects, versus large creatures into small ones. Both require a lot of practice, but one is far easier. As I studied the required reading, having set the textbook on the armchair of the couch, I felt myself growing uncomfortable. I cast a glance to Professor Snape, who was nearly finished with his stack by the time I came to my last chapter.
I was annoyed with his pace, given I still had an impressive amount of work to do. I did only have Transfigurations homework and Charms, and granted, Charms wasn’t due until Wednesday, but it didn’t eradicate the envy I felt. I rolled my ankles, which were tense from tenting upwards onto my toes to hold my notebook steady. This wasn’t an ideal setup, but I wasn’t going to complain. I also didn’t want to mention the twisting discomfort in my chest or the sudden lightness of my head. Mentioning it felt like I was breaking the illusion that this short distance between us made any difference at all for the bond. Unsurprisingly, it must’ve become evident to him at some point, because when I traded out my notebook for my textbook to give my legs a break, he narrowed his eyes at me. I flushed under his scrutinizing gaze, and nearly opened my mouth to apologize when he stood up.
I watched tensely as he snatched a book from his shelf along with his cup of tea, and maneuvered gracefully to the end of the couch I hadn’t been occupying. He set his tea on the table, flicked the lamp on, and glared at me again.
“You needn’t look so affronted, Miss Hellstrand, clearly that arrangement wasn’t working. And, I could hear your chattering from my desk,” he said pointedly.
My cheeks flamed at that statement. I was freezing, and while the idyllic, soft crackling of the fire offered a nice subtle background, it did little to quell the chill settling into my bones. I had long since finished my tea, and the heat of it no longer warmed me despite having drank it all when it was still near boiling. I had been too shy to request he stoke the fire, so I had tried to curl further into myself to stay warm. Evidently, it hadn’t been enough. With a quiet mutter, he set the hearth ablaze again, and I finally felt myself relax as the warmth of it struck my face. I unconsciously leaned towards it, though the shivering didn’t stop instantly. My clothing, while once helpful in insulation, now kept that heat off my skin. I tugged my robes tighter.
“Sorry, I’m not used to it being so cold. Thank you for lighting it,” I noted, bouncing my feet lightly to loosen the strain on my ankles.
“Make yourself comfortable, girl, Merlin knows you’ll be spending enough time here to do so.”
Unsure by what he meant, I stilled, mentally cataloguing my position and the setup of my things. I didn’t have to ponder it long however, as his dexterous fingers wrapped around the ankle nearest to him and easily unfasted the buckles, dragging it towards the warmth of his body.
I gasped at the movement, swiftly bringing my other leg with it to keep my thighs together modestly. He quirked a brow at me when he set my ankle on his thigh and caught the other one to do the same. My shoes thudded to the floor, neatly dropped next to one another. I watched with wide eyes as he collected his book again and settled a warm hand over the tops of my feet, the warmth of his hand instantly seeping through the thin material of my stockings. He didn’t look over at me, and so certainly didn’t have the breath to say anything. Instantly the tightness in my chest eased and I was left feeling more in control of my mind. His touch alone had banished my whirling thoughts.
“Finish your homework, Miss Hellstrand,” he chided smoothly, as if it was perfectly acceptable to be cradling my feet in his lap.
I obeyed, dragging my books back to me. The hand touching me drifted slowly, sweeping over the tops of my feet until it was brushing my toes, and I wanted to moan at the relief it brought to the frozen appendages. Leather shoes did very little to quell the chilled air, but the soft muscles of his thighs were soothing, and his hand blanketed my icy toes. I tried not to move much, enjoying the warmth of him and the clarity in my mind, though it was beginning to fog over with other sorts of thoughts. I could hear each soft draw and release of breath from him, and it was driving my impure mind towards different positions I might feel the rise and fall of his chest from. Or where that breath might hit me. I was drawn back to when I had felt that breath on my neck, on my lips, on my —
“Finish your homework, Miss Hellstrand,” he interrupted sharply, fixing me with an annoyed stare.
I bit my lip, and forced myself to finish the chapter.
It was nearly an hour later, nestled comfortably in that position, when I finished all of my assignments. Professor Snape was still reading his book, but noticing the closing of mine, glanced at the clock above his hearth. He lifted his hand away from me and set his book aside. I wanted to whine at the absence before I caught myself.
“It’s nearly dinner time, Miss Hellstrand. I trust you can put your shoes back on and find your way to the Great Hall.”
Flustered, I withdrew my legs from him and nodded, tightening the straps on my shoes as fast as I could manage. He stood from the couch and returned to his desk, where a new set of papers were waiting.
“Goodnight, Professor,” I squeaked as I slipped out the door. I didn’t wait for his response.
At dinner, my friends accepted my excuse of following up with Madame Pomfrey rather easily, and the entirety of our conversation revolved around the new hatchling of dragons Elijah’s brother had written to him about. I tried to stay focused on the stories, but my ankles were still tingling from where he’d touched me. When I glanced up at the staff table to catch his eyes, I realized he hadn’t come to dinner. Was he still working on those papers?
“Alyssa,” Elijah huffed, elbowing me, “will you read it?”
He had placed a rough draft of his essay on the table in front of me. I rolled my eyes and nodded, snatching up the parchment to proof it.