Chapter 2
You stir awake - sunlight seeps through the curtain seams - inhaling the scents of something delicious. You turn into the pillow, deeply breathing in the scents - vanilla, herbs, some sort of fire smoke. When you realize this isn’t your bed, you jolt up, looking around. This is not your house. Jesus, where are you? Your hand reaches up to massage your throbbing head. Did you go home with someone? You gasp when you remember what happened last night. You must have dreamt that. That’s the only way this all makes sense.
You push the heavy comforter off of your body - where are your clothes?! You’re in a white, long dress shirt, obviously a man’s. You look around, seeing only your coat and bag. You slip your coat on and grab your purse, then slide into the hallway.
This is a rather old home. Peeling wallpaper decorates the walls and the floors are made of dark, faded wood. The stairs are ahead. You just need to find your clothes and shoes. You don’t feel like you had sex. Did that stuff really happen last night? It isn’t real. None of that. You wet your lips and step on the first stair and it creaks lowly. You tiptoe down the rest of them, coming into a living room filled to the ceiling with bookshelves. You instantly feel like you’re inside a library. Arm chairs and a loveseat are arranged in the space. Through the hallway, there’s a kitchen - and a front door! Forget your shoes, you can walk barefoot home. You quickly begin to stride towards it.
“Bloody hell.”
You halt, hearing undoubtedly Severus’ voice. Fuck. There’s some sort of clinking coming from the kitchen. You silently peek your head through the threshold, seeing him standing at the stove, hands grasping the counter at his waist, with what is obviously a kitchen disaster. You would offer to help him, but you’re in his home, kinda sorta against your will. You aren’t staying. Besides, you always visit your grandmother on Saturday mornings and you’ll be damned if you miss it. You take a step forward, slowly placing your foot down. The floors are on your side - they don’t creak. You take another step, then another. You’re getting so close to the door. Just whip it open and get the hell out of here. You grab the gold knob and turn it - good no noise. You smile at yourself - you’re quite successful at breaking out. You gradually open it and the creak that comes from the door makes your ears ring. You whip it open, knowing you’re exposed, and go to take a step. But your leg doesn’t cooperate with you. It’s…frozen? You jerk your hip, but find no mobility.
“[First name], where do you think you’re going?”
You slowly angle your head towards Severus, coming to the realization that you did not dream of last night's events. Severus is aiming an ebony color stick at you. He’s ceasing your movement somehow.
“How are you doing that?!” you yell.
Severus’ eyes flash in anger - the door is open and you’ve just yelled loudly. He stalks towards you, lowering the stick in his hand. His hand comes up to your upper ar and his thin, lengthy fingers wrap around it. He pulls you away from the door, sticks his head outside, looks around, then slams the door shut. He pulls you into the kitchen and kicks one of the chairs out from the table, then guides you to sit down.
“You were intending on going out in the cold, no shoes, no pants-“ Severus begins.
You aren’t having this. He’s making it sound like you’re committing a crime. As if leaving his home is wrong.
“Where are my clothes, by the way!? You undressed me?! You did not have my consent!” you inform, voicing your unhappiness.
Severus stands tall and his lip curls down unpleasantly.
“You threw up on them. I was not going to allow you to ruin my furniture with your vomit. It had to be done,” Severus states, dryly.
You scoff.
“I didn’t ask to be taken here. Especially, mind you, against my will. You could have left me alone,” you explain, crossing your arms.
“Even if I could have let you go, would you rather have stayed outside, in the middle of a winter night, unconscious?” he demands.
You nod, continuing your glare up at him. His eyes are concentrated and harsh - as if you’re one of his students in detention.
“Yes, exactly,” you insist.
He sneers fully now, showing how angled his jaw is, how defined his cheeks are.
“You would have frozen to death,” he points out.
Your eyes slowly fall down his frame, head lowering downward, until they land on the wood floors.
“That would have been preferable,” you admit.
You shut your eyes, shaking your head subtly. It’s the first time you’ve admitted that out loud. Have you even thought about it? To want to be dead? Maybe not thought of it… felt it, though. Severus shifts his weight to one of his legs, though you don’t look up to him, you hear him sigh slowly.
“I need to go home,” you say, clearing your throat.
“I understand. I was…trying to prepare you breakfast… I know you must feel unwell,” Severus murmurs.
You look up at him slowly, through teary eyes. You slowly stand and slip your coat off, walking towards the stove. Your eyes look over the mess he’s made - several ruined eggs, spilt flour, cooking oil burned into a pan.
“I’ll make it. You seem to be struggling,” you decide.
“This is Spinner’s End in Cokeworth.”
You look around - it’s quite the slum, but you don’t tell that to Severus. He informs you he cannot let you out of his sight, since you know of his…’magical’ abilities. He’s going to teleport you home - you still slightly believe this is all a bad dream. You give him a description of your home and Severus states that’s enough to get there. You’ll see about that.
“It’s lovely,” you grit out.
Severus scoffs.
“Hardly. Give me your arm.”
You cock your head at him, but do as he says. He grabs you firmly and you whip into the air.
Severus lands simply on both feet - you, on the other hand, nearly fall over. He keeps his hand grasped around your arm until you straighten out. You blink, taking in the white cottage that belongs to you. You look up at him, examining him, then promptly jerk your arm away. You begin to stalk towards your home, reaching into your purse for the keys. You hear him begin following you - your feet are loud and rushed whilst he moves calmly through the snow. As you unlock and open the front door, you stand in the threshold and turn to face him.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Severus,” you state.
He stares down at you - he’s dressed in very similar clothing you always see him in. A dark, long jacket fastened with several buttons, slim dark slacks to match, and shiny leather shoes. His raven hair is parted down the middle, thick, oily locks frame his face.
“I would like baking lessons,” he confirms.
You roll your eyes, scoffing.
“I mean, why are you following me? I’m sure you can somehow hypnotize me to forget everything.”
He shakes his head once, his black eyes narrowing ever so slightly on you.
“I don’t want you to forget.”
You look at him for a long moment, unsure of what to think. You don’t reply to him. Instead, you step into the foyer and gesture for him to come in. He murmurs a thank you as he strides in.
You used to share this home with your grandparents. You moved in before you can remember - your parents died when you were four. Your grandfather has passed and your grandmother lives in a home for memory impaired people, leaving you with a big, spacious house. Leaving you alone. It’s been remodeled here and there with dark floors, new paint, and a larger, updated kitchen. You inherited quite a large sum of money when your grandfather died. He always said you would be taken care of when he was gone.
“Now, this is lovely.”
You shut the door behind you, seeing him picking up a picture on the table against the wall. You throw your bag on it and step close to him, seeing the picture of you and your grandfather when you graduated.
“That was my granddad. Louis,” you say.
You touch your fingers to the picture, then look away. You can never look too long. You drop your coat to the floor carelessly, then stride to the staircase.
“I'm taking a shower. Don’t…wave that stick anywhere in here,” you warn.
Severus’ lips quirk up.
“It’s called a wand,” he corrects.
You roll your eyes and begin to climb the stairs, shaking your head, agitation building inside you. Just a shower and a quick visit to your grandmother. Then, you can deal with Severus Snape.
The visit with your grandmother was excruciatingly uncomfortable for Snape. He’d rather have spewed lies to Tom Riddle than endure that. You have not spoken a word to him since you both left the facility. Snape can tell you are on edge. You insist on going to the bakery to leave a note on the door. You’re both walking in silence down the sidewalk, though it is not Snape’s choice.
Your grandmother yelled at you, hit you, called you rude names and you simply… endured it. Snape would have never had the patience. If it always makes you this on edge, Snape ponders why you go. She clearly does not remember you. She’s not herself. So, why do you put yourself through that?
Snape waits outside for you as you enter the bakery. You put away a few boxes of inventory that were delivered, write your note, and tape it to the door.
Will reopen January 2nd, 2000 at normal business hours. Take care. - Three Bridges Bakery
You lock the door and Snape watches you turn to face him.
“Well?”
Snape purses his lips. He has a feeling you will not be inviting him to spend the holiday with you, but that is how you both will carry on the next couple of days as Snape figures out what to do with you. You know the secret of magic. Know he is magic. Know too much.
“Well, what?” Snape intones.
Your hands come up and rub the sides of your head.
“What the fuck do you want from me?!” you demand.
Snape can’t help but flash a face of disgust at your outburst of anger.
“A kind woman recently told me that I should be nice in general. You ought to heed that advice.”
Snape watches you glare harder up at him, eyes full of irritation. You turn and begin to walk away. Snape quickly follows you.
“Where are you going now?” he calls out.
You swing your hand at him, waving him off.
“Home. And I’m not bloody teleporting again!” you call out.
Snape sneers. It’s cold and would be convenient to apparate, but he doesn’t try to entice you into it. Snape comes up behind you, craning his head over your frame from the side, raising his brows admonishingly.
“Keep your voice low. And the proper term is apparating.”
You come to a quick halt, raising a finger at him. Snape notices now you’re crying. You hide it rather efficiently.
“You are bad luck, Severus! Those were the first words my nan had said to me in years! And they were awful! Jesus Christ, why don’t you use your magic wand and turn back time and never come into my bakery! Do us both a favor!” you growl, hatefully.
Snape stares down at you, fighting the urge to retaliate. When your hands come up to your arms to rub them, he realizes now you don’t do that to keep yourself warm. You’re clearly anxious. You’re trying to calm yourself. Snape reaches his hand out to rest it on your shoulder. Much to his surprise, you relax beneath his touch. You glance down the sidewalk, hesitate, then grab his arm that is outstretched.
“Okay. Apparate us back to my place,” you decide.
Snape nods once and does as you wish.
Once you both enter your home, you wander to the staircase, telling Snape to make himself at home since he cannot leave you to your own devices, and that you’re going to sleep. He hums a response and watches you disappear up the stairs and into one of the rooms. He exhales, glancing around, and wanders into the living room. He instantly is drawn to the large bookshelf and begins to peruse the books. After debating between two tiles, he plucks Hannibal out of the shelf and settles into the leather loveseat, decorated with blankets and throw pillows. As he opens the novel, he ceases all movement. He angles his head up and inhales. He smells an overwhelming amount of, well, you. Flowers - of course you smell like flowers. Perhaps it’s lilac. Snape inhales again, assuring himself there is lilac as he can pick up the aroma of roses and vanilla. There’s hints of cinnamon and perhaps jasmine, and the smell of fresh fallen leaves. The fragrance is quite heady and aromatic. It is absolutely ambrosial. Snape exhales, angles his head down to the book in his hand, and peers down his hooked nose and begins to read the narrative.
When Snape finds his eyes to be exhaustive with reading the words of the horror novel, he looks up to the clock on the wall. When he sees the time, he straightens. It’s been quite some time since you went to bed. Several hours, in fact. He carefully lays the book face down on the coffee table, leaving it open to his page, then stands. He stretches, rolling his neck from side to side. Feeling a sting of pain on the left of his neck, he winces and pushes his hair behind his shoulder, clamping his opened hand on the ropy, raised scars that disfigure his throat. He walks to the hallway that connects the foyer, living room, kitchen, and staircase. He looks up the wooden stairs, knowing you’re asleep up there, deciding his next course of action.
She ought to be hungry by now. Perhaps takeaway will be easiest. Yes, Severus, she shouldn’t have to cook today. She’s had a tough, lengthy day. Perhaps Indian? What if she doesn’t like that? What’s a safer option?
Snape wanders into the kitchen, looking around the spacious room. There’s a large island with pans hanging above it, and much countertop space against the walls. He heads to the refrigerator and opens it, quickly taking an inventory. Everything edible is basic and vague. He sighs, wishing you had some sort of takeaway leftover so he knew what to get you. As he shuts the door, he plans to scour the cupboards and, perhaps, even the trash to learn what you like to partake in. But something on the refrigerator catches his eye - a list of phone numbers. He reads through them, seeing people listed by name. Near the end of the lengthy list, he finds the delivery boy’s name - Devin. He ought to know, he went for drinks with you. Snape smirks victoriously as he takes the list off the refrigerator and goes to stand at the island. He fishes his new cell phone from his jacket and sits it down beside the list of numbers.
After about three minutes of attempting a phone call, he is ready to destroy the piece of plastic. Calling you was three simple clicks. Turn it on, the address book, then your name. This is new territory. He’s tried every thing - there is no function to click to make a phone call. Frustratedly, he begins to press the numbers on the device. His brows pop up when it begins to dial. He didn’t need to use a function! Just needed to start dialing! He smiles to himself arrogantly.
Muggles are simple, after all.
He turns the entire phone off and then back on to clear the wrong numbers he dialed. Once it reboots, he slowly and precisely presses the delivery boy’s number, then clicks the green phone button. He raises it to his ear and sighs when he begins to hear the ringing. It’s working like when he phoned you. Perfect.
“Hello?”
Snape stiffens. What was he to say!? He didn’t plan this far!
“Hello,” Snape replies.
“To whom am I speaking?” Devin inquires.
Snape sneers.
“I am an acquaintance of [first name]’s. She is…unwell at the present moment and I was inquiring on what she prefers to eat.”
There is a long silence at the end of the line.
“Hello?” Snape asks, worried that he’s been disconnected.
“Sorry. Um. Is she there?”
Snape flexes his fingers.
“Yes. Asleep. Unwell. What should I feed her?” He asks, shortly.
Devin laughs once.
“Well, she likes pizza from Lorenzo’s, just in town. She does frequent the Three Bridges Deli as well.”
Snape nods, beginning to rip drawers open in search of pen and paper. He finds a notepad and marker - it’ll do, he supposes. He begins to scribble down the information.
“And what would she get, exactly?” Snape inquires.
“She always gets…”
Three light, timid knocks come onto your bedroom door. You force your eyes open and glance to the alarm clock on your bedside table. It’s nearly eight in the evening. Jesus.
“Yes?” you groan.
The door opens just an inch.
“I have picked up some takeaway. I think you should eat something,” Severus speaks through the door.
You force yourself to sit up, your hand coming up to wipe the sleep from your eyes. You push your blankets off of you and swing your legs out to the side of the bed.
“[First name]?” Severus inquires.
“I’ll be out in a second!” you bark.
Severus doesn’t move from the doorway. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur.
“Mm,” he hums, neutrally.
You hear your door click shut and the stairs begin to creak. You stand and slowly meander towards your closet, find a sweater and leggings, and dress. You slip out of your room and begin to walk down the stairs, running your fingers through your hair to brush through your tangles. You turn into the kitchen, seeing Severus unpacking paper bags from the deli you frequent. Your brows pop up in surprise - you approach him.
“Have you been here all day?” you ask.
He nods.
“You really can’t leave me be?” you ask.
You glance down at the warm sandwich you always get, reaching for it.
“Not yet. We will discuss it after you’ve eaten,” he states.
You watch Severus pull out your favorite soup, along with some artisan bread. He must have somehow magically known your favorite. You reach for that too, but he clamps a hand over it. You raise your eyes up to meet him.
“Thank you,” you breathe.
His lip twists up.
“Are you feeling better?”
He slides the soup and bread to you. You grab your items - ignoring him - and instead head into the living room. You glance into the loveseat where an opened book is laying - he must have read all day. You sit your meal on the coffee table in front of it, then lower yourself to the floor to sit. You lean your back against the loveseat. Severus wanders out shortly after, glancing down at you, a bag of what you assume is his food in his arm.
“Eating out here? On the floor?”
You nod, unwrapping your sandwich.
He sits down on the cushion you assume he’s been occupying, preparing to unpack the meal he ordered for himself. You grab the remote to the television as you bite into your sandwich.
“Hey, can you open that?” you ask, chewing.
You point to the closed entertainment center. Severus arches a brow, but pulls his wand out and aims it, flicking the cupboards that cover the Telly open. You point the remote at it and turn it on.
“Do you not want to sit next to me?” Severus asks.
You shake your head, flipping through the channels.
“No, that’s my grandad’s spot. I never sit there,” you say simply.
Severus doesn’t move for a moment - you don’t look up at him, but find a sitcom for you both to watch.
“This is really good. Thank you,” you say.
He hums a response.
“I had to figure out how to use my mobile. Rather simple,” he boasts.
You roll your eyes.
“Ah, yes, because us non-magical folks are just simple minded creatures.”
You hear Severus laugh lightly - just once, quietly.
“I don’t think so. At least, not about you,” he replies.
You look up at him now, letting him see you slowly smile.
“Alright. What do I have to do to be free from you? I’m not going to tell anyone about…whatever you are. Not like they'd believe me.”
Severus nods curtly.
“I need to warn you of the consequences should you attempt to inform anyone of the existence of magic.”
You nod, bringing your soup up to you, taking a bite.
“You will be Obliviated. And, they won’t care what you forget as long as you forget that magic exists. You could forget your most precious memories. Who you are.”
You swallow, nodding once.
“I would…forget you,” you slowly understand.
“Yes,” Severus replies, lowly. “They’d make sure of it.”
You look back up at him.
“As long as you keep coming to the bakery, your secret is safe with me,” you promise.
He smirks slowly.
“I will have to return to work soon,” he explains.
You frown. You watch him bite into his sandwich.
“How soon?” You quickly ask.
He chews - his long, angled jaw slowly moving back and forth - then swallows. “The week after next.”
You look back to your food. You feel his hand gently trace up your arm to rest on your shoulder.
“If you would like, I will come to the bakery. Every morning.”
You lick your lower lip. “Yes… I’d like that. But, what about…”
You stop talking when your mind goes to your mobile. You need to call and check on your grandmother. You stand and stride past him.
“Where are you going?” you hear Severus ask.
“I just need to call my grandmother. I usually do about this time,” you call out.
You walk to your purse and begin to rummage through it. You frown when you don’t immediately pull it out from its normal spot. You keep rummaging, growing confused. Where is it? You groan and dump it onto the table in the foyer. Severus walks out to you.
“[First name]?” he asks.
You breathe in shakily.
“Do you have it? My mobile?” you ask, panicking.
He shakes his head once. You must have dropped it last night! You keep rummaging through the contents of your bag.
“We have to go into town, my phone, I must have, I dropped it, somewhere, in that alleyway maybe-“
Severus grabs your shoulders and shakes you gently.
“Calm down. I will go find it. I will be back in just one moment.”
You furrow your brows.
“I have to help you look! I was running down a sidewalk, you can’t find it alone-“
He leans down to you, dark eyes level with yours.
“Calm. Down. I have magic. I will be but a moment,” he assures.
You press your lips together. He steps back and disappears from the foyer with a pop. You press your hands to your face. Even if he does find it, it’s rained! It’ll be ruined. You’ll never hear your grandad's voice again. You’ll never hear him laugh. He’s gone forever now.
Before you can even begin to cry, you hear the same pop as just moments ago. You lower your hands and Severus is standing in front of you - with your phone in hand. You grab it quickly, attempting to turn it on, but with no luck. You run into the kitchen and find the charger and plug it in. It’s definitely wet.
“Can you fix it? With your wand?” you ask.
He purses his lips as he strides in. He glances at your phone.
“I am unsure. I will purchase you a new one, there’s no need to fret.”
You look up at him.
“I don’t give a damn about the cellphone, Severus. I want the voicemails!” you cry.
He tilts his head.
“What is a voicemail?” he asks.
You groan. Jesus, is he really this unknowing about the normal world?!
“Like a message. It’s the person's voice. When you don’t pick up, they can leave a message where they talk to you.”
Severus stares down at you for a moment, then sighs.
“I see. You had messages from your grandfather,” he understands.
You tilt your head down and squeeze your eyes shut. You let the cellphone charge for a moment, then attempt to turn it on.
“I don’t think it’ll work,” you whisper, defeatedly.
You slam it down and bang your fists onto the granite countertops.
“I’ll never hear his voice again,” you whisper, voice thick with anger and sadness.
Once again, you cannot help but blame Severus - if he had never walked into your bakery, none of this would have happened. You step around him, planning to go to your room and cry - that’s all you do when you aren’t working, anyway. Severus snakes his hand across your upper arm, fingers grasping around you. He pulls you gently towards him. You feel the heat of his body come out to greet your cool skin.
“I apologize. I understand you’re upset, I know what it is like-“ Severus begins.
You shove against him but he doesn’t relinquish his hold of you.
“How can you understand?! You don’t know what it feels like… I wake up everyday and am alone! I drag myself to my grandad’s bakery because I have nothing!” you argue quickly. You try to pull away from him, shaking your head, continuing your spiel. “And if I don’t work, I sit at home with my thoughts and wonder what it is really like to die!” you yell.
Severus’ brows push together, almost concernedly. Warm tears begin to spring from your eyes. You exhale shakily.
“You probably wave your wand and fix sick people - fix your loved ones, fix your minds! You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone!” you argue.
You shut your crying eyes, not wanting to look at him. You try to pull away but he jerks you back towards him. He leans down to your face and his voice goes lower, deeper.
“Oh, but I do know. I am very familiar with wanting to…not exist. Magical beings get ill. They even get murdered. And if you’re me, you are the reason for it.”
You open your eyes when you feel his thumb slowly pressing across your cheek. His dark eyes slowly look you over, almost thinkingly.
“Wait right here for me.” He drawls.
You open your mouth, but he disappears from the house again. You exhale and begin to rub your eyes. You’re overreacting. You know you shouldn’t have relied on those voicemails, but they brought you comfort. They got you through the first weeks after your grandad died. And you listen to them when you’re anxious or angry or when you wonder about death. You walk to the sink and turn the faucet on, beginning to splash your face with cold water.
As you’re patting your face dry, Severus appears back inside the kitchen - only this time carrying a large, dark…bowl? What the fuck?
“Come here,” he orders.
You hesitate, looking at it. It doesn’t look like a normal bowl.
“Come. Here,” he commands again, impatiently.
You slowly walk to him, eyeing him cautiously. He grabs your shoulders and walks you to stand beside the bowl - it’s levitating in the air. He withdraws his wand and a glass vial of a liquid. He pours it into the bowl - even though it was only a few ounces, it fills to the brim with some sort of thin fluid.
“I want you to think of the happiest memory of your grandfather.”
You know arguing with the man in black won’t get you far. And he has his magic wand out - maybe he’s going to somehow show you this memory. You nod immediately.
“You’ve already thought of it?” he asks, clearly in disbelief.
You roll your eyes.
“Yes, Severus,” you bite out.
He hums and raises his freehand to your head. His fingers twine into your hair and his hand cradles your skull. He points the tip of his wand at your temple. Silently, he drags his wand away from your head and towards the bowl. When you see a ghostly blue string of light begin to come from your fucking head, you go to jerk away - what is he doing to you? Severus’ hand is faster than you, however. It strikes down from where it sits at your head down to your waist. His large hand splays across your lower back, keeping you put. He gazes at you with an emotion you can’t place.
“Don’t be afraid. I think…you will like this better than any voicemail,” he assures.
He guides his wand to the bowl and drops the glowing string into it. It falls in seamlessly. He sits his wand down, applying pressure to your back so you lean towards the bowl.
“This is called a Pensieve. Put your head inside,” he instructs.
You swallow, glancing into it. It isn’t water but it isn’t normal liquid, either.
“My entire head? Are you planning to drown me?”
Severus inhales through his nose, nostrils flaring.
“You are testing my patience, young lady,” he warns.
You slowly lean over it, looking inside. Very carefully, you lower your face into it. What you see inside is truly a work of magic.
You stay in the memory for a long time. Watching it replay and repeat. Seeing your granddad when he was healthy and active. Your heart feels whole again. You have been so focused on your last weeks with him - what you could have said or done differently, if you should have taken him to better doctors, how sick he looked. This is how you should have remembered him. Whole and loving.
When you pull your head out of the memory, you stare down at the Pensieve for what seems like eternity.
“I can leave this here, if you’d like. It must remain hidden from any guests. I can get a selection of memories from you,” Severus begins.
You shake your head. This was all you need - for now, at least. You reach up and wipe your eyes, sniffling once. Then, you turn to the man in black - you raise your hands up to either side of his face. You pull him down to you and press a simple, lingering kiss to his thin, warm lips. It must take him by surprise - he doesn’t move for a second. When you go to pull away, his hands come to your hips, keeping you in place - he wants this, too.
Maybe it wasn’t a mistake that he wandered into the bakery.
He begins to kiss you back with enthusiasm, fingers grasping your hip bones. You both step into each other, bodies pressing, and you feel just how warm he is. You find it odd, almost an oxymoron - Severus appears cold but feels so warm, welcoming. A low moan grows in your throat and you breathe it into his mouth. He swallows it, angling his face slightly, deepening your kiss. You drag one hand down his face to his throat, caressing his hair and skin. You inhale sharply when you feel something firmer and irregular on the curve of his neck and shoulder. You grab his hair, preparing to push it away to investigate further. Severus’ lips tighten and he breathes in through his teeth, almost in pain, then reaches up and grabs your wrist from there. He places it on his chest instead, then opens his mouth, swiping his tongue across your lips. You open your mouth for him. His tongue sweeps in, warm and wet, caressing over your own.
“Mmm,” you moan.
He draws in a breath through his nose then lets it out, the warm air from his lungs brushing against your face. He traces one hand up your side, grabbing your frame right beneath your breast. He turns you into the island, leaning you back over it with his body. You feel each button dig into you through your sweater - almost beyond your will, your hands go to undo them. He leans further into you, forcing your hands to splay across his chest instead.
“You’re perfect,” he breathes against your lips.
His hand on your waist drags down to your ass and he wastes no time taking a palmful of the soft skin there. You pull back from his lips, desperate for air, with a gasp. He immediately locks his lips to your throat, a hand coming up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“Severus…” you pant.
Gods, it’s been so long. You want him. Need him.
“Hm?” he asks against your skin, sending a vibration through your neck.
His hand traces from the back of your head and over your shoulder, down to your chest. He rests his palm over your breast lazily, it’s as if he’s trying to make a map of your body. You reach down to his waist, feeling for his belt. You choke out a breath when you feel his hard length tenting against his trousers. You don’t think when your hand grasps at the length of him. You fight and stifle the moan forming - he feels so big, he is so big.
“No.”
You gasp again, shocked. He stops sucking the skin on your neck, slowly pulling away, removing his hands from you. He tenderly grabs your hand from his erection, placing it at your side. He rights his jacket so his hard length is hidden.
“You…don’t want to?” you ask.
Your face is flushed, you know it is. You can feel how swollen your lips are too. And you’re willing to bet the large sum of inheritance sitting in the bank that your knickers are soaked. Yet, here he stands, put together, except for the raging hard on in his pants.
“Of course I want to. Have you looked at yourself recently?” he demands, as if you’re the daftest person alive.
You slowly cock your head at the tone of his voice. He sighs, shutting his dark eyes, running a hand through his hair. They snap open and look at you, almost angrily.
“You have had a difficult day. A difficult week, actually. You haven’t even finished your dinner,” he begins.
You look down, nodding once. What a fucking let down. Severus’ hand shoots out and he grabs under your chin with his pointer and thumb, raising your face back up to look at him.
“I want to. Obviously,” he assures.
He arches a brow and gestures to his waist. You grin, then nod. He is right. Perhaps you’re both being too fast.
“Well, just so you know, I am not cheap,” you begin, crossing your arms over your chest.
He looks at you with a look of shock and confusion.
“Cheap? I am not - you aren’t a - I don’t want to pay you for -“ he begins.
You laugh out loud, pressing a finger to his lips. He thought you were accusing him of paying you for sex.
“My lessons. If you want to learn how to bake, I’m not cheap. My classes will be difficult,” you announce.
You feel his lips brush up against your finger.
“Do I not get a discount?” he inquires, pure teasingly.
You purse your lips.
“Only if you become a regular at my bakery,” you bargain.
He grabs your hand that’s still on his face. He plants a wet kiss to the inside of your wrist.
“Deal,” he agrees