Chapter 3
Snape has stared at the ceiling for the last hour. He cannot fall asleep. You insisted on him staying the night so he can start his first baking lesson tomorrow and that he should rest as the clock struck midnight. He is not tired. He is… enlivened. By a muggle, of all people. No, he doesn’t hold the hatred he once had for muggles in his youth. It is just curious to him that you have drawn him in. He can hear you downstairs, moving occasionally and giggling at the television. He wants to know you more. Touch your skin. Kiss your lips. He would have taken you on the kitchen island, but you have had a terribly hard day. And, besides, it has been quite some time since Snape was…active with another woman. He would hate for it to be over before it even began.
Still, even as he tosses and turns in the plain guest bedroom, he can’t help but think of you. Your smile and eyes. He likes watching you bake. Your hands as they cut ingredients, mold flour. Your kindness, the way you take no cheek from anyone - even him. The way his name comes from your lips. Snape ceases breathing as he feels his member grow erect. He groans, turning his face into his pillow. He shouldn’t be like this, like some teenager with raging hormones.
You are just so bewitching.
You are the first one to treat him normal in years. Everyone Snape knows always commends him for his acts in the war, treating him like he’s some renowned war hero. Treating him like Albus Dumbledore. Snape just wants to be…him again. Surrounded by books, potions ingredients, and an empty cauldron. Not stared at as he enters the Great Hall or the Ministry of Magic, or even Flourish and Blott’s for Merlin’s sake. He wants to be overlooked. He knows he can reign in the attention of anyone he pleases if need be. But, his days of putting up a constant front are over. No more spying or lying. No more teaching. No more sleepless nights over Lily Potter or saving her son. Just nightmares remain of the Dark Lord and Nagini, and those he can live with.
Snape sits up when he hears the front door open. He swings his legs out of bed and grabs his wand - what are you doing, you silly girl? He slips out of the bedroom, in his white, long sleeved dress shirt and tight black boxers. He looks down the stairs, seeing you looking outside on the front porch. The hairs stick up on his neck.
“[First name]?”
You turn around, looking up at him.
“I heard something. Think it may be a cat.”
Snape rushes down the stairs and immediately pulls you inside. He slams the door and turns the lock.
“Severus! Calm down-“
Snape turns to you and grabs your upper arm firmly, shaking you a bit. You stare up with big eyes and Snape unconsciously loosens his hold on you.
“You were just attacked last night. Why would you go out there?”
Snape watches you frown.
“Well, you and those young men caught the bad guy.”
Snape rolls his eyes - have you been coddled your whole life?
“There are two more of them we have not been successful in capturing.”
He loosens his grip on you, then raises his wand. He points it in front of him lazily. You reach out and grasp his wrist.
“Don’t wave that in here!” you command.
“Shut up. Since you are so thick headed, I will have to ward the house for you.”
You roll your eyes.
“I think it was just a cat,” you mumble.
Snape nods once, not sensing any magical signatures in the vicinity. Snape takes extra care in placing wards and protection spells across your home. You follow him around with your arms crossed, telling him to be careful each time he begins to murmur incantations. Only when he’s sure you’ll be safe alone does he stop.
“Who are they, Severus?” you ask.
Snape glances down at you. Then, with a flick of his wand, he summons his trousers and dons them, but keeps his dress shirt untucked.
“Death Eaters,” Snape states, sourly.
He watches you narrow your eyes.
“They do sound bad… tell me more?” you beckon.
He leads you out into the living room. He sits on the love seat and you sit down in front of him on the coffee table.
“It’s a long story,” Snape begins.
You nod, bringing your hands up to rub up and down your arms.
“It began in 1971. I was eleven. That is the age a witch or wizard starts their magical education. I went together with my best friend, Lily, who was a muggleborn. We-“
“Wait, wait, wait. I need the non magical folk translation. Muggleborn? And 1971? You’re… thirty nine?” you ask.
Snape smirks. “Yes. Too old for you?”
You shrug.
“No…just good to know. Aren’t you curious as to how old I am?” you wonder.
Snape stares at you, shrugging. It doesn't matter to him either way.
“Twenty seven,” you inform, grinning.
Snape arches a brow and in return, you gawk at him.
“What?!”
Snape shrugs, then reaches out to touch your face, thumb caressing under your eye.
“These wrinkles forming would say otherwise…” he drawls.
You slap his hand down, beginning to laugh. He chuckles, finding your sing-song laugh something he desires to hear more. He hasn’t desired anything, besides the Dark Lord’s downfall, in years. He feels pressure well up in his chest and he falters briefly - he hasn’t felt this feeling of warmth since he and Lily were friends. It makes him want to run from it. He pushes his emotions to the back of his mind to address later. He isn’t finished telling you all of the wrong he’s done. You may detest him after you’ve heard it all. This rapport you’re creating with one another may cease to exist.
“A muggleborn is someone…with no magical parents. They were gifted with magic, not born with it. Lily and I had been best friends since we were nine. Did everything together… but we were sorted into different houses. At school, there are four houses students are placed into…”
Snape goes on to explain his journey through school. How he was drawn to dark magic, how he ruined everything with Lily Potter, how she went on to marry his worst tormentor. And how he went on to become a Death Eater. A blood supremacist. He averts his eyes when he explains that to you - your face becomes hardened and your eyes grow hesitant.
He goes on and on. Tells you everything. Leaves no detail out - all the nasty and horrid things he’s ever done. You shift where you sit, sigh uncomfortably, put your face in your hands. Two hours pass by when Snape finally concludes the story of his life. He stares at you, waiting for you to say something. You inhale slowly through your nose and let it out. Snape sees your debating. He would be too, if he were you.
Snape swallows and looks down defeatedly, his lengthy black hair falling in front of him. “It’s quite a lot, now that I’ve said it all. I-“
“You killed this Dumbledore man. Have you…killed anyone else?” you whisper.
Snape’s fingers tap across the leather arm of the couch.
“I feel responsible for the death of Lily Potter, yes. And her swine of a husband," Snape states.
You shake your head.
“No, you tried to save them… their friend sold them out. He’s responsible," you justify.
Snape offers you a small smile. An out of character gesture for him. You make him do it so easily. Snape watches you rise to your feet and he expects you to walk away. You need time to take all of that in, surely. But, you instead step in between his legs, looking down at him. When he has the courage to look up at you, he finds your tears brimming full with tears.
“You did that…all alone…?” you ask, voice cracking.
Snape inhales sharply - he didn’t expect this. You kneel between his legs - knees resting between them on the couch - and slowly wrap your arms around his back. He breathes out slowly, unmoving. Eventually, he finds the will to wrap one arm around you. You’re soft and warm and utterly comforting. You both stay like that for a long while. So long, in fact, Snape thinks you’ve fallen asleep. But he doesn’t mind - you smell so good and he can feel every soft curve of your body. Reluctantly, you slowly lean up from him and smile.
“Can’t sleep?” you ask.
Snape shrugs.
“It’s hard to sleep some nights,” Snape explains.
You stand up and stretch. Snape eyes your exposed midriff as you stretch your arms high above your head. Your skin looks smooth, soft. He wants to run his fingers over it, over you.
“Well, I’m going to turn in… if you find the bed uncomfortable, mine happens to be newer…” you say, nervously looking away.
Snape swallows, standing up from the sofa, eyeing you closely. You turn your gaze back to him and something in your eyes lights up.
“I would hate to throw your geriatric back out,” you add in, grinning.
Snape seizes your hips, brows arched, pulling you flush to his chest. You gasp, laughing. There it is again, that sinful laugh, forcing his lips to curl up.
“Fine, but do not get any ideas,” Snape retorts.
Snape guides you towards the stairs, hands still on your hips, keeping close to you. He lets his hold on you go when you both begin to climb the stairs. He follows you into your bedroom, the wood floors creaking beneath your weights. You usher him in and shut the door behind you both.
You point to the left side of the bed, pushing your hair behind your ear nervously. He strides to it and sits down on the edge, beginning to step out of his slacks. You quickly do the same - removing your pants and dropping them to the floor. You toss your shirt and bra off, then head to the chest of drawers, pulling out an oversized, faded t-shirt. You turn over your shoulder, meeting Severus' eyes - he’s staring at you. He doesn’t try to turn away. Instead, he lets himself rake his gaze up and down your body. You slowly pull the sleep shirt over you and climb into bed.
He carefully takes the covers and slides his long legs into bed, then begins to adjust his pillow. You lie on your side, hands under your cheek, watching him until he stops moving. He’s still in his dress shirt and you wonder if it’s uncomfortable to sleep in. He sighs, staring up at the ceiling. The moonlight, dimmed by the curtains, showers into the room, and you see just how long his eyelashes are.
“Do you want to kiss some more?” you whisper.
“Yes,” he replies instantly.
Severus turns on his side towards you, snaking an arm around your back, pulling you to his chest. His warm lips capture yours hungrily - you eagerly kiss him back. First, it’s just your lips for a long while. When you need to breathe, you pull away, but Severus' lips never leave your skin - he finds your throat or the tender spot beneath your ear. When you return your lips to his, you prop yourself up on your elbow, leaning down into him. You swipe your tongue across his lips - they open to accommodate your tongue. A few waves of his tongue across yours makes a whine form in your throat.
Daringly, you reach down between your bodies, finding his manhood stiff and erect. He pulls from your lips and grabs your wrist simultaneously.
“[First name],” he warns.
You stick your lower lip out.
“We both want it,” you confirm.
He exhales, slowly, as if deep in thought. You sit up on your knees, pushing your hair back, letting some of the heat out from between you both.
“Has it been…some time since you’ve slept with someone else?” you wonder.
He sighs again, this time in irritation. He scoots up to lean against the headboard, turning his head from you, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s been a few years, yes,” he admits, reluctantly.
You shrug.
“Me too,” you reply.
You grab at the covers on top of him and slowly tug them down, averting your eyes to his waist. His cock stands taut against his boxers. Slowly, you scoot down to his hips and straddle him. You place your hands on his flat stomach and steady yourself over his erection.
“[First name],” Snape murmurs, eyeing you warningly.
You shush him, reaching for his hands, bringing them up to your chest. His long fingers press against the soft fabric of your shirt over your breasts. He grasps them slowly, then lets them go, groaning softly.
“I think you’re very handsome,” you whisper.
He presses his lips together and stares up at you. Then, he rises, arms wrapping around your waist. He pulls you into him, grinding his hard cock into your supple warmth.
“Mmm,” you sigh.
You grasp onto his shoulders, lips parting as arousal fills your lower stomach. He leans into your chest, kissing one breast and using his hand to hold the other. He sucks a covered nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth, flicking it with his tongue. You grab handfuls of his hair, tugging on it gently, moving it off his neck and behind his head. You freeze when jagged, deep red, raised scars cover the conjuncture of his throat and shoulder. Severus must feel your hesitance because he lets go of your nipple and angles his head up.
“Don’t look at it,” he commands, voice hoarse.
He pulls his head from your hands and brings his hair up to cover it, his black eyes shut as if he’s in pain.
“Why? It’s a part of you. I like you,” you whisper.
His eyes flutter open and the next thing you know he’s grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off your body. Your breasts fall out of it, nipples becoming erect from the chill of the room. He leans back up with purpose, sucking on your other nipple now. He snakes a hand between your thighs and presses up, hitting your throbbing bundle of nerves. You gasp, throwing your head back.
“Tell me what you makes you feel good,” he breathes against your skin.
You shut your eyes and allow yourself to moan.
“Just…like that…” you beg, nodding. “Maybe…your fingers?” you suggest.
He groans, sucking harder now, forcing you to cry out. He shoves your thong aside and swipes his fingers over your wet folds.
“Fuck,” Severus sighs.
He presses his thumb to your clit, circling and stroking, then slowly finds your entrance with his pointer. You rock your hips into him, sliding down on his finger.
“Eager, are we?” he asks, voice an octave deeper, filled with lust.
You nod, looking down at him through hazy eyes. His finger curls inside you and you moan, clenching around him. Severus lips part at your reaction and begins to work you up slowly. Languidly pumping a finger in and out of you, adding another, curling them inside you. You feel your body begin to croon with pleasure, but can’t stay upright anymore, so you rest your head against Severus' shoulder. He kisses your throat, pumping his fingers and rubbing you with his thumb rhythmically now - he’s so good with his hands.
“Ah, fuck, I’m already gonna come,” you say in a breathless laugh.
“That is the point,” Severus whispers, snidely.
You open your mouth to retort something, but when he shoves a third finger into your heat, you unravel. Your body tenses and legs tremble you begin to orgasm.
“Yes, good girl…” he speaks into your shoulder.
You moan at his praise and hold his sides, inhaling the sweet scent of him. He pumps and pumps through the waves of pleasure, even in the aftershocks of it, he doesn’t relent. He stops moving when he no longer feels you clenching around him. Slowly, you sit up off of him, smiling dazedly.
“How was it?” he inquires.
You laugh, wiping hair from your sweaty forehead.
“Bloody fantastic. Thank you,” you beam.
He raises his hand - covered in your arousal, and sucks his fingers into his mouth. He groans, bucking his hips into you. You exhale, scooting down slowly, pulling down the waistband of his boxers. His manhood sticks up proudly, dripping from the tip - it’s thick, curved, with a vein running down the length. You lick your lips, maneuvering down his legs, preparing to take him into your mouth. His hand clamps on your arm, halting you. You meet his eyes - they're clouded with lust and arousal, and you assume he must be stopping you because he knows he’ll come quicker than he’d like to. You nod once, understanding without the need of words, and shove your panties down your thighs, pull each leg out of them, then move back up to his hips. You reach down, grabbing him, rubbing his shaft over your folds.
“Oh, Merlin,” he murmurs.
You stop, looking at him with your brow arched.
“Merlin?” you wonder.
He arches one back.
“Wizard terminology," he breathes.
You laugh once, then press a hand to his chest, forcing him down on his back. Carefully, you press him into your warmth and sink yourself onto his length. You let out a long moan and accommodate his girth before looking down at him. His brows are knitted together and his mouth hangs open.
“Gods, you’re so lovely,” he whispers.
You smile warmly and begin to lift your hips up his shaft, then back down.
“You’re so big,” you sigh.
Severus grabs at your hips, helping you up and down him. You moan again.
“You feel divine…” he breathes.
You steady yourself and begin to ride him, breathing heavily, staring down into Severus’ dark eyes. He reaches up and grasps your breasts, jaw clenched as if not to cry out. You can’t look away from his eyes - they possess you, and he doesn’t seem to be able to look away either.
Just a minute passes, and not surprising either of you, he throws his head back and groans. His hips buck up and he spills himself inside you and hums out a low whine. You stare down at him, panting, as his length pulsates inside you. His mouth hangs lax and his hands find your waist, keeping you still on him.
When you feel him begin to soften inside you, you lift your hips off of him, then lower yourself back to the bed. Severus exhales and sits up, running his hands through his hair. A surge of anxiety runs through you - is he going to leave? Surely, not after fucking you. You watch his long arm reach towards the nightstand - he grabs his wand and turns back to you. He waves his wand over himself, then tucks his manhood into his boxers. He leans over to you, using his free hand to push your knee, parting you. He eyes your folds that glisten with his release for a moment. Then, he waves his wand over you and the semen that begins to run from inside you vanishes.
“I’d hate to ruin the sheets,” he comments, voice caught in his throat.
You laugh at his awkwardness. He settles back into bed and you find each other, limbs tangling and heads brushing. You’re both too exhausted to say much more - Severus plants a sloppy kiss on your lips, then lays his head down. It isn’t a surprise when sleep takes you both.
Severus is gone the next morning. He left a note on the kitchen island, along with a new mobile, stating he has been requested for work related issues. You frown, finding it annoying. It’s New Years Eve, surely even wizards celebrate the holiday.
You find yourself in a slump throughout the day - it’s normal for you, though. Ever since your granddad died and you’ve been miserably alone in this big house, it’s all you seem to do - slump around, cry here and there, sleep excessively. You put on a sitcom that centers around a group of teens in the seventies and curl up in a blanket on the floor, finding yourself crying pathetically on and off.
The next day comes and you find yourself annoyed that Severus has not even called you. You grab the new mobile Severus fetched for you and find his number stored inside. You briefly wonder if he had the store associate put it in for him. You call it and bring the phone to your ear. You cock your head when you hear it ringing from upstairs. You walk up them and into the spare room, seeing it lit up and ringing clearly on the nightstand. He’s forgotten it here. You stare at it for a long moment, then leave the room. You head into the bathroom and start a hot bath, go downstairs to find a bottle of aged wine in the cabinet and to snatch a novel from the bookshelf. You go back into the bathroom, strip, and climb into the tub. The hot water soothes you slightly, but your chest still aches. Why do you feel like this? So sad, so run down? You hate it. You just wish everything in your life was back to normal. Waking up to watch the news with your granddad, going into work with him, laughing as he tells you stories of him and your grandmother whilst you both bake to your heart's content.
Didn’t you get a shitty hand in life? Your parents died when you were a child, leaving you to the care of your grandparents. Growing up, you were spiteful for it. Always telling your wonderful, caring grandparents how they weren't your mother and father, how you hated them. You spent your primary school years filled with angst and resentment. Only when you finally decided to grow up and appreciate them did your grandmother get sick. It was too late to make up your hateful words to her. You tried twice as hard with your granddad, who let everything go and forgave you and embraced you with the same love he had always given. Then he became sick, and died. Making you realize you have nothing, no one. Making you think in each passing moment how meaningless your existence is. What is the point of being here?
New Years Day is spent the same - moping about. You make a visit to the cemetery to clean off your granddads gravesite and to lay flowers on it. It only makes your mood worse. You look forward to returning to work tomorrow. You briefly wonder if Severus will come by. Perhaps he’s still busy with work. You hope he is okay.
You walk briskly to work the next morning, fighting the cold air with your winter gear. It’s snowing and grey clouds shroud the sky. You rip the note off of the bakery door and unlock it, hurrying in, then relock it. You sigh at the warmth in the bakery, beginning to take your scarf, hat, and coat off. You toss them behind the counter and begin a pot of coffee.
Once you’ve begun baking muffins, biscuits, and scones, you flip the sign on the window to open and unlock the door. You scan the road, seeing no one, seeing no Severus. You press your lips together and make yourself a cup of coffee, feeling quite miserable. You slam a cup of coffee down, scalding yourself, but find the burn on your tongue soothing. You relish in the ache for a moment, then tell yourself you shouldn't enjoy pain.
The morning goes by in a drag - you’ve had three customers and fulfilled one take away order. By eleven, you decide to rid yourself of your thoughts and boredom by baking a cake to take to your grandmother - you’ll visit her after work today if Severus doesn’t show back up.
You decide on a vanilla flavored cake with deep red frosting. You stir the batter in a mixing bowl, nothing but the low rumble of the television in the dining area to fill the empty space. For a moment, you allow yourself to think of your granddad, and picture him beside you, baking with you. It brings a peace that quickly evolves into bitterness. You angrily stir now, pressing your lips together.
Once you pour the batter into a cake pan, you sit it in the oven to bake, then start on the frosting. You pour cream, sugar, and vanilla extract into a bowl, beginning to whisk it. You dye it with red coloring and let it sit until the cake is finished.
When will the bells on the door ring? When will Severus come back? Will he come back? Would it be easier for the both of you if he just stayed away?
You want to know him more. He is so mysterious, so brooding, yet can be kind and caring even when he tries to not portray it. It only seems he is that way to you, though. He was rude and short with the young men who came to your aid when the Death Eater attacked you. And he knew them, knew them much better than you at least.
The oven chimes and you open it, warming your arms on the rush of heat coming from within. Thinking of Severus makes you forget your oven mitts - you grab the scalding hot pan and begin to take it out. The searing metal against your skin instantly makes you drop the pan to the floor and has you moving back. You wince, cursing under your breath. You rush to the sink and shove your hands into the cold dish water, biting your lower lip to keep from yelling out.
You wipe your crying eyes into your shoulder, feeling stupid. You haven’t done something like that in years. You can’t even bake a cake now. You feel like such a failure. You carefully raise your hands, seeing the skin of your palms blistering already. A blue light emits from the window in front of you, catching your eye. Standing on your toes to see better, you see it fading away to nothing. Odd.
You sigh, running cold water now, letting it wash over your hands. You furrow your brows when you hear a loud pop behind you. You turn over your shoulder, seeing Severus in his black clothes and sporting a long black cloak. You’re startled - a shrouded in black, tall man has appeared from thin air in your kitchen. You still aren’t used to it.
“Jesus!” you yell.
“No, I’m Severus,” he greets.
He glances down at the mess, then looks at you. You grab a kitchen towel and walk over to him, kneeling. You slam the oven shut and begin to throw the broken glass into the trash can.
“You’re hurt,” he begins. You stand, ignoring him, and go to turn away. His hand wraps around your upper arm and he tugs you towards him. “You’ve been crying,” he adds.
You pull away from him, looking up at him sternly. You walk back to the sink and resume running cold water over your hands. He comes up behind you, examining your palms. You shut your eyes, inhaling the thick scent of him - smoke, leather, lavender. He smells so rich, almost like a wine.
“That must hurt,” he murmurs.
You shrug, not responding. You’re angry at him. You’re unsure why. Perhaps because he’s caught you like this.
“I’ll return shortly,” he states.
Another pop and he’s gone from behind you. Carefully, you grab the bowl of frosting, dip a spoon into it, and shove a load of it into your mouth. You turn your head when you hear the front door ring. You roll your eyes and wipe your mouth, plaster a smile on your lips, and go to serve your customer.
Severus sits at the bar patiently whilst you wait on an older couple. They’re out shopping and wanted a spot of tea. You give them scones on the house, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. You walk behind the counter and glance at him. He’s doing the crossword puzzle in the paper.
“Work kept you long,” you murmur.
He nods once, glancing at you over the paper.
“We’re trying to catch the others,” he states, lowly.
You nod once, not saying more about it. His eyes advert to your hands, but you coyly stick them behind you.
“Are you free this evening?” you wonder.
He hums his response - yes. You give him a lopsided smile, then go behind the kitchen to eat some more frosting. You examine your dark red hands, frowning. It’ll take forever for these to heal. You clean up a bit and prepare for tomorrow morning. By the time you return to the counter, the couple waves at you and leaves. You go collect their dishes and money. After clearing the dishes, you deposit the money in the register. Severus lays the paper down and extends his hand.
“Let me see,” he requests.
You roll your eyes but place your hands palm up on the countertop.
“It doesn’t hurt that badly,” you murmur.
He reaches into his long cloak and retrieves a small jar. You eye it, seeing some sort of lotion inside. He unscrews it and dips two fingers into the balm, then gently grabs your hand. Carefully, he begins to rub the substance into your palms. You immediately sigh, finding immense relief and literally feel your skin begin to mend.
“Wow…is this magic?” you wonder out loud.
Severus nods once.
“Yes, this doesn’t come out of a wand though. You brew something like this,” he states.
You nod once, somewhat understanding. He massages your other hand with it until your burns heal completely. This must be what he left earlier for.
“How did you know where to find me?”
It was odd he didn’t come through the front door like he typically does. He shrugs once, pressing his lips together.
“Severus,” you insist.
He shrugs.
“It’s hard to explain. I sent my patronus to see exactly where you were,”
You cock your head.
“I’ll explain later. Now, come close,” he instructs.
He glances around, then withdraws a folded piece of paper from his cloak, leaning forward. He unfolds it, revealing a ripped piece of a newspaper. Only, this one has moving pictures. Two men - they’re yelling and look quite menacing.
“Have you seen either of these men?”
You shake your head. You have not. You glance up to him, finding him staring at you intensely with his obsidian eyes.
“Commit them to your memory. I fear Dolohov informed them where he was last. They may come around the area,” Severus states.
You lean forward, stare at them hard, then nod. You’ll know them if you see them. He shoves the paper away. With your face still close to him, he reaches out and grabs your jaw, kissing you across the countertop. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated - you’re still learning how to kiss each other, you think. He pulls back, staring at you closely.
“You’re upset,” he murmurs.
You shrug, your cheeks flushed. How did he decipher that from your lips? You turn your back to him and brew another espresso to keep yourself occupied.
“[First name], do not ignore me,” Severus says.
You turn your head over your shoulder.
“Well, Severus, I’m upset most days. I can’t help it,” you reply.
Severus shifts in his seat.
“Don’t you have any friends?” he inquires.
You shake your head. As if they could make your life all better. Is that what he thinks would fix you?
“No… I kind of forgot about them last year,” you admit.
You hear his fingers beginning to tap across the countertop.
“When your grandfather passed?” he asks.
You roll your eyes and slam your coffee down on the counter.
“No, when he was too sick to work and I had to run this place alone and tend to him and his illness,” you retort, sharply.
Your close friend from primary school reached out after your grandad passed, but you ignored her in your anger and grief. Severus doesn’t reply. You take a large gulp of your coffee, shaking your head.
“Sorry,” you state.
“Don’t be,” he allows.
You turn to face him again, sitting your cup down beside his.
“Do you want something to eat?” you wonder.
He shakes his head, staring down at the countertop and not at you.
“No. Would you prefer it if I leave?”
You furrow your brows. No. You don’t want that. Not at all. Maybe your short tone made it seem like that.
“No. I want you to stay… then come home with me and eat dinner and maybe play cards?” you ask, unsure.
He looks back up, smirking.
“Cards?” he inquires.
You smile small, nodding. You slowly lean towards him, wanting to taste his lips again, but the bells on the door ring and customers enter the bakery.
"I hope you're good at Black Jack," you grin, then diligently go to wait on the customers.