Chapter 13
The psychiatrist’s office is a better atmosphere than the doctors. There’s carpeted floors, book shelves, warm wall lights, a light green paint on the walls. Unlit candles and magazines on the coffee table. The receptionist brought you back to doctor Reed’s office, made you tea and said she’d be in shortly. You’d thought the clients here would be rocking back and forth and talking to themselves. You saw a couple others who looked like normal people in the waiting room, which assures you that you aren’t insane.
You slept well the last few nights only due to your sleeping medication. You can’t stop worrying and thinking about what happened with Severus. He hasn’t called. You aren’t going to call him. He was mean, really mean. You weren’t taught to allow that shit go on. It isn’t your fault your phone was dead and that you fell asleep. It's not your fault that he slammed your bedroom door and went off on you. It isn’t your fault you’re depressed. You have to keep telling yourself these things because you want to blame yourself for it all.
You sit on the black leather sofa you sat on last time, crossing your legs at the knee. You wear jeans, a plain shirt, and a long cardigan. You wrap yourself in it, rubbing your arms. You didn’t have to talk last time. It was just questions on your mood and daily life. How do you talk to a medically educated stranger?
Minutes pass, then Doctor Reed knocks on the dark wooden door and pushes it open. She’s smiling when she walks in, dressed in slacks and a blouse, carrying a tray of tea. She walks over to you and shakes your hand, saying something but you’re so anxious you cannot hear it. She sits down across from you on the other leather sofa, pouring you some tea into the cup closest to you.
“[First name]?” she speaks, clearly. You look at her now, raising your brows. “You’re nervous. I understand. Did you hear what I said?” You shake your head. “How have you been doing with your meds?”
You shrug, clearing your throat. “I feel worse, honestly. The sleeping medicine helps a lot but I’m not sure about this medication I am on. I am forgetful and agitated and sleep a lot, more so than before. I thought by now it’d help.”
Doctor Reed begins to write on a clipboard that’s decorated in cat stickers, nodding. “Well, stop taking it. We’ll start you on a different one. The thing with antidepressants is that one might work wonders for someone, but for yourself, it may make things worse.”
She pulls a prescription off her clipboard and fills it out. “Pick these up today and start them tomorrow.”
You nod, taking it from her and placing it in your purse. It’s that easy? “You should have seen some sort of relief by now. We will find a good match for you, it just may take time.”
She leans back now, crossing her legs and clapping her hands together once. “How have you been? How is work?”
You nod, shrugging. “It’s been alright. My new employee is learning quick. Hopefully soon he’ll be able to cover the bakery alone. Or at least during the last part of the day.”
Doctor Reed smiles. “That’s great. Did you get licensed?” You nod, reaching into your purse and pulling out the keys to your car.
“Yep. No more bus.”
She smiles. “And, your demeanor at work?”
“For the most part, I like to work. I have my regular customers and get to meet new people. Bake. It takes my mind off my life. When I am home, I feel worse. More time with my thoughts, you know?”
She hums, shrugging. “Not many people like to be at work over their own home. What do you do when you’re home? Do you have any hobbies?”
You clear your throat. “I like to read. I go to the bookstore a lot. I used to do poetry. There’s a wine place in town that does poetry readings on an evening each month that I use to participate in.”
Doctor Reed cocks her head. “You must be talented in poetry. Do you still go?”
You shake your head no. You haven’t written poetry since before your grandad died. It’s something he liked about you. He was always so proud to see you reading your poetry. “Why not?” the doctor inquires.
“It’s not the same, I suppose. My grandad and I would go. He’d be so happy to see me read. Now that he is…gone, it just brings up bad feelings.”
Doctor Reed leans toward you, shifting in her seat. “What sort of feelings?”
You think for a moment, bringing your hands up to rub the sides of your arms. “Just…sad feelings. It reminds me he is gone. He can’t do the things he liked to do ever again. Then I get angry.”
She purses her lips. “Wouldn’t he be happy knowing you still do the things you both enjoyed?”
You stare at her, silently. You never thought about it that way. She slowly smiles, realizing that too. “Why don’t you just try? Maybe just try to write again. Read them outloud to yourself. Or, to your boyfriend. How are things with him?”
You roll your eyes, throwing your hands in the air. “I think we broke up,” you inform, quietly. Doctor Reed begins to investigate the reason and you vent to her about it all, which feels good. She gives you, as she calls it, homework to do before your next session in two weeks. To write some poetry and to try to call Severus instead of waiting for him to call. Great.
Friday, the bakery is steady with customers. Cole beautifully runs the counter while you prepare pastries on plates and brew lattes. He runs them out to the customers. It’s a nice system. You split tips, which you typically use as your spending money. Your grandad had the bakery and house paid off, so you only use the revenue from the bakery to pay the utilities, supplies and goods, and the services - the flower and window washing services. The rest goes to the bank. You’d be bluffing if you said you weren’t well-off. You have quite a lump sum of money stowed away, with no idea what to do with it.
It’s been two weeks without any word from Severus. Maybe you should take Doctor Reed’s advice and call him. What would you say? You don’t feel as if you were in the wrong. He was completely mental.
Cole catches you daydreaming when things slow down. “You’ve been doing that all week. What’s wrong?”
“Doing what?” you wonder, glancing up at him. He’s in a tucked in dress shirt and slacks, looking quite handsome today. Not that you find him attractive but you’re glad he’s been taking work at the bakery seriously and dressing up.
“Spacing.” Your brows raise. You shrug, then sigh.
“Severus and I had a blow up fight a week or so ago. We haven’t talked since.”
Cole leans against the counter, huffing out a breath. He eyes you, silently wondering what you’re going to do about it.
“I don’t know what to do. I think I might call him tonight.”
Cole nods. “That’s a start. Who started the fight?” he inquires. You shrug again.
“Both of us, really. He was upset that I didn't pick up his phone call. Made dinner plans without telling me. Came over and I was sleeping. He slammed a door and I went off on him. And he went off right back. He’s been holding it in, I’ve not been in the best mood as of late.”
Cole presses a finger to his chin. “That’s tough. I agree with you not having the best mood lately. He doesn’t ever seem to be in any sort of good mood, though.”
You kneel down and begin to sort clean silverware into their designated holder below the counter, feeling tears spring to your eyes. Maybe you aren’t a good match with Severus.
“I will say this, when you both are together, you’re both much more pleasant to be around.”
You clear your throat and push your tears back. “Thank you. That makes me feel better.”
“Not that you’re not pleasant all of the time to be around. I enjoy your company. But, you’re easily frustrated,” he makes clear. You nod, thankful for his honesty.
Cole cashes out a customer and you hear the girl ask for his number. He politely declines, lying to her and saying he has a girlfriend. When she leaves you look up at him. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
He laughs. “Nah, just didn’t find her attractive. And she didn’t tip well.”
You laugh and stand, leaning back against the counter. “So, what’s been wrong? Devin says you and that Elaine girl used to hang out all of the time.”
You bring your hands up to your arms, rubbing them, up and down, trying to push your feelings of worry away from you. “Just my grandad, you know? He was all I really had left of a family. My nan is still around, but she doesn’t really remember much at all. It’s just hard.”
Cole walks towards you and hesitantly begins to wrap his arms around you. You exhale, accepting his kind gesture. He rubs your back, quietly, not saying anything until he lets go. “You’re doing a good job, I think anyway. I don’t know where I’d be without my big, annoying family.”
You pinch the bridge did your nose, shutting your teary eyes. “Thank you, Cole.” You check your watch and hurry to the door, turning the open sign over to display the closed sign instead. “Let’s wrap this day up.”
After counting the money and putting it in the safe, you wander out to the front of the bakery, seeing Cole sweeping with the broom. “I got the rest, [first name],” he calls out from the far side of the dining area. You cock your head, unsure, but he just shoos you away with your hand. You hold up his check for the week and he nods at you. You sit it on the counter for him and then bustle out of the bakery.
At home, you find yourself nursing a bottle of wine whilst staring at your mobile. You flip it around in your hand, wanting to call Severus but too proud to. You end up staring at it the rest of the evening. You take your sleeping medicine and polish off the wine, then fall asleep on the sofa.
Severus doesn’t call that night. But he does the following week.
Snape sits at his desk, looking at his reflection in a glass of fire whiskey. His mobile is under his palm this dreary Saturday evening. He checks his mobile constantly now, dreaming of the day you call. What are you doing? Are you lying about, too sad to do anything? Has he made you worse? Do you believe what he said to you? He knocks back the glass of liquor, then opens the bottom drawer of the desk to fish out the bottle. He refills his glass, exhaling. Two weeks without hearing your voice has been hell. He yearns for you.
Snape peels the bandages away from his neck, like he is instructed. He was treated earlier today and his neck feels much better. He wishes it’d be healed permanently - in a few days it will ache again, then become inflamed and sting, until his next treatment. He hates the constant reminder of the pain he felt when Nagini tore into his throat.
He’s been less than cordial in the workplace these last couple of weeks. He’s forced Minerva to do all of the school updates at dinners. Scolded Poppy for being rough with his neck during his treatments. Told Hagrid to return to his hut when he sat down at the teachers table too roughly. Took points from students for being too loud in the halls. With himself, he’s been even less cordial. His mind has always been his best weapon.
Snape doesn’t hear the footsteps that approach his door, which is unlike him. It is only when the knocks come does he glance up, clearing his throat. “Go away,” he calls out. The door instead opens and there stands Minerva McGonagall with her lips pressed together. Oh, Merlin, what has he done now?
“Severus Snape, what has been with you this last week?” she begins, strutting inside the office and taking a seat across the desk from him. Snape holds a hand up in confusion.
“What?” he demands.
“Your mood is awful and you’ve been short and rude with the staff and myself.”
Snape scoffs, wondering why she is here on a Friday night and not doing something productive. “Apologies,” he mutters.
“Not accepted,” Minerva informs. “Is it your girlfriend?”
Snape leans back now, tapping his fingers across the top of the desk. “More of a lack thereof,” he muses, sarcastically.
Minerva frowns. “What happened? I thought you liked her!”
Snape lunges forward. “I do.” Minerva raises a brow at him, a silent way of warning him. He straightens himself up and shrugs. “We got into it. I was my textbook self, mean and nasty.”
Minerva’s eyes soften at his words. Snape stands and shakes his head, almost disappointedly. “It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t have gotten so close to her.”
Minerva stands now and walks around the desk to him, then grabs his arm and pushes him back down into his chair. He opens his mouth but she silences him with a mere raise of her hand - this brings up memories of when she was his professor.
“What did you say to the girl?” Minerva demands. He pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbles into the sleeve of his arm what happened. Minerva crosses her arms and clicks her tongue.
“You need to apologize to her. And bring her flowers and chocolate and whatever else she may like. She is having a difficult time with her grandfather's passing. You need to give her time and comfort her. Honestly, this girl likes you and you have the nerve to be rude? You have better manners than that. I ought to get Peeves to torment you, or better yet, I…”
Snape sinks into his chair as he takes the advice and scolding from her. She has a point. You do, or at least did, like him, enough to date him. You aren’t just a shag or a friend there merely for sexual activities, like the women of his past. You are wholesome, caring, fierce, hardworking, and beautiful. Any man would be extremely lucky to have you.
When Minerva finishes her spiel, she merely raises her brows at him. He exhales and sits up. “I will apologize. Bring her flowers. Whatever else I need to do.”
She nods her head in triumph. “Good. Let me know how it goes. I still want to meet this girl.”
Snape rolls his eyes and shoos her away. She eyes him hardly and then takes her leave. Snape sits with himself for several minutes before picking up his mobile. He clears his throat and dials you. It rings, rings, rings. You aren’t going to answer him. Why would you, after his cruelty?
“Hello, Severus,” you greet, surprisingly, into his ear. Snape’s heart begins to race - you did answer - he did not expect this. You don’t sound angry but you don’t sound very happy, either. What the fuck is he suppose to say? He didn’t plan this far! “Severus?” you ask.
“Good evening,” he replies, his throat hoarse. He clears his throat again. “Are you free?” he asks, clearly. He hears you sigh and shift around, probably becoming anxious.
“Why?” you ask, bluntly.
“I’d like to talk, if that is alright. In person.”
You hesitate again. “My house is messy,” you reply. Snape shuts his eyes and exhales.
“Do you think I mind?” Snape inquires, softly.
You sigh and don’t reply. “You could come here,” Snape murmurs, grasping the glass of whiskey, uneasily. “I put a candle stick on the mantle of your fireplace when I left a few weeks ago. Before we fought. If you grab it, it will bring you here.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you wonder.
“I was going to show you next time I saw you, but we both got angry at each other,” Snape explains.
“Oh.” Snape hears you stand, walking across the creaky wooden floors of your house. “I didn’t even notice it here.” Snape chuckles, nervously. “Give me a few minutes.”
Snape leans back and silently exhales a sigh of relief. “Alright.”
“See you in few,” you say, gently.
“See you in a few,” he repeats. The line goes dead. Snape jumps up and sends his glass of liquor away, then hurries back to his chambers. He furiously brushes his teeth to rid it of alcohol, then combs his hair. He takes his frock coat off and stares at himself in his tucked in white dress shirt and slacks. He shaved this morning. He looks presentable. This is as good as he is going to get.
He goes to stand next to the candlestick in his office, preparing to steady you as you portkey to him. It’s similar to apparation, he should have told you. He ought to call you to warn you. Before he can reach into his pocket, you appear in front of him, and in fact are unsteady. You’re falling to the side but he reaches out and captures you, pulling you into him. You’re wearing an oversized sweater, black tights, and sneakers. You look stunning.
“Careful,” he murmurs. Your eyes are wide, stunned that you’ve appeared here. Snape slowly lets go of you, though he doesn’t want to. You nod your head at him once.
“Thank you,” you say, taking a look around. You step away from him, beginning to wander, looking at everything on display. Snape follows you, watching you. You reach down and touch something - a knickknack, harmless. It begins to jumble around on the shelf, making you jolt back.
“Just a trick,” Snape assures. You let out one breathy laugh, looking at him now. Your eyes linger on his for a second, then they look behind him.
“Shall we sit at the desk?” you offer. Snape nods, holding an arm out towards it. You walk to it, slowly sitting down on a comfortable velveted chair. Snape sits down in the headmaster's chair, swallowing. He takes his wand out and conjures a dozen of your favorite flowers under the desk, then reveals them to you. Your eyes widen and you slowly take them from him, trying not to smile, but you do ever so slightly.
“Thank you,” you murmur. He hums in response. “Shall I begin, or you?” you ask after several seconds of silence between you.
Snape leans back, gulping again, a pit forming in his stomach. Ladies first, right? He gestures to you, holding your eyes with his. The air grows thick and it reminds Snape of the times he looked right into Lord Voldemort’s eyes and spewed him lies. It would make him sick after, even if he hadn’t eaten that day.
You clasp your hands together on the desk, breathing for a moment. “I am…depressed, clearly. You are too, at least a little. And bipolar.”
Snape doesn’t mean to, but he sneers. “Oh, you’re diagnosing me now?”
You shoot him a glare and he murmurs an apology. “You get angry easily, you-“
“As do you,” Snape retorts. You slam a hand on his desk.
“Am I talking first or are you?” you snip. Snape squeezes his knees beneath the desk, nodding at you.
“You get angry easily, and you lash out at me sometimes. I know I do the same. This is not my normal. It is hard for me to live life without my grandad. I am still learning how.
I’m sorry I have missed some of your calls and ruined some plans you worked hard to make for us. I thought you made me better…in the beginning of us knowing each other, I was happier, I thought I was better. But my feelings went bad again and I wanted to…I wanted to fucking die. You know what that is like. I don’t know why I feel this way. I am seeing a doctor who specializes in mood disorders now. They put me on some meds, they didn’t work so we switched them. I feel a little better now, but it will still take a couple weeks to know for sure if they’re helpful for me.”
Snape listens diligently to you and his chest tightens when you mention how you’ve felt. He is proud of you for seeking help. He never had the courage to, right after the war when he so badly wanted to die. He feared they'd stick him into St. Mungos.
“I like you, Severus. You’re interesting, funny, sarcastic, well-spoken, you like the same things I do, and different things which makes you more attractive to me. I think you’re very handsome, despite how you feel about yourself. I love the way you touch me and make me feel. When you smile, I feel so special, because you don’t really smile in front of others. I know you don’t like baking, but you do it because I enjoy it and I like that about you.”
Snape has to occlude himself because his chest won’t stop being so tight and his heart begins to race. He doesn’t want to be emotional, he still has some things to say.
“If you could be patient with me, I would appreciate it. I wasn’t always this way. I’m starting to feel a bit better. I miss my grandad a lot, I don’t know if you understand this, but he was the only family I had. Him and my Nan, but she’s not herself anymore. I don’t have siblings or cousins or other extended family. And it has been hard grieving my grandad without any help.”
You squeeze your hands together in your lap, frowning. “I practically killed him. He was going to go anyway, sooner or later. When he got really bad, he wanted all of his liquid pain medicine. He begged for it, he was hurting, hadn’t walked in days… he wasn’t going to get better. So I gave him what he wanted. All of that medicine. I was crying, and he was holding my hand, weakly. He told me that he was okay and that I would be okay. That was all he could get out. He died moments later. His hand stopped holding mine. And I relive that moment every day, Severus. When I am alone, it is very vivid to me. It kills me. It fucking kills me. It’s why I’m so fucked up. I’ll get through it, but it will take me time.”
You reach across the desk with an open palm. Snape slowly raises his hand and grabs it. You squeeze his hand. “I think what we have started is worth this trouble between us. I am sorry for what I said. I was angry and tired. I didn’t mean it. I appreciate you and everything you do for our relationship. Will you be patient with me while I work on myself? And I will be patient with you while you work on yourself.”
Snape nods once, squeezing your hand. You said everything he wanted to say. “I feel the same. I will try to be better. I will be patient with you. I am sorry for what I said. I do want to be with you. I love our days and nights together. I haven’t looked forward to anything in what seems like ages. But, now, I cannot wait for work to be finished so I can call you. I cannot wait for the weekend so I can see you. I’ve not had a favorite person since I was a student. But, you simply and easily have become it.”
You look down, grinning from ear to ear. You press your lips together and look back up. “What about that picture you keep in your cloak? Is that Lily Potter?”
Snape’s face doesn’t budge because he is occluding, but he is fucking caught off guard. How did you know about that? It must have been the night at Maurice’s when he had you fetch his wand. “I have kept it there for years. She…used to be the most important person to me. She still is important, she was the reason I didn’t stay loyal to the Dark Lord. But you have surpassed her. You and your so called baking with love.”
“That’s all?” you wonder. Snape huffs out a breath.
”Amongst other things,” he adds. You giggle, rolling your eyes. “I will get rid of the picture. Her son would like to have it, I am sure. Perhaps you can give me a picture of you to keep with me?”
You roll your eyes, your head cocked to the side. “You can see me anytime you’d like.”
Snape shakes his head. “For when we are apart and I miss you,” he insists.
You sigh, nodding. “So, we want to stay together?” you ask. Snape looks at you with an expression of utter stupidity.
“We just poured our hearts out to each other, what do you think?”
He watches you grin again. You haven’t done that lately. It warms his cold heart. Snape leans back, letting go of your hand. “Now, come here,” he commands. He scoots his chair back, patting his thigh. You stand hastily and walk around the desk. Grabbing your hips, he pulls you into the large chair with more than enough room for you to sit. He wraps an arm around you and presses his head to yours. “I am sorry for what I said,” he reinforces.
You squeeze his arm firmly, and sit with him like that for a moment. Then, you stand up, maneuvering so your knees squeeze between his thighs and arms of the chair, and you’re straddling him. He runs his hands up your back, staring up at you - you have taken him by surprise with this. When you place your hands on his shoulder, you both press your lips together with urgency. You both moan into each other's mouths - it’s been far too long without a kiss from you, and you appear to feel the same. You press into his waist, and he feels every lovely curve of you against his thighs. His cock stiffens almost immediately, which makes him nearly embarrassed - he cannot control himself around you, even after nearly four months together.
His hands slither under your sweater, running up your torso, grabbing at your braless breasts. He sighs at the feel of them - so full and soft, nipples taut. His fingers squeeze them roughly and you pull back from his lips, stiffening. “Mhm!” you moan, sharply. Snape eyes you, worried he’s going too far. “They’re sensitive, sorry. My…monthly friend is here,” you murmur, sheepishly. Snape purses his lips, pressing a palm against his hard manhood for some relief. He grabs your hips and positions you over one of his legs, then jams his knee up into your cunt. You gasp, grasping onto his shoulders.
“I can still make you climax,” he assures, beginning to rub circles around you with his knee. You moan, grinding your hips down until you find a perfect tension and location. He pushes your arms up and yanks your sweater off your head, exposing your body to him. How your hair falls around your shoulders and down your chest is perfect - your breasts are full, nipples taut and pert, they’re a perfect color for Snape. He continues to rub circles into you with his knee while he gently sucks one nipple into his mouth. You sigh, grabbing his head, breathing becoming ragged.
“Oh, fuck, Severus,” you shine, grasping his hair and pulling. It makes him hiss through his teeth over your chest. Your head lulls back and you stiffen, your legs shaking. He grasps your waist as you cum from merely riding his thigh, teasing your cunt until you lean into him, catching your breath. “That was lovely,” you praise, leaning back, your eyes hazy and face colored with warmth. Snape smugly smirks. Of course it was, he was the one bringing about your orgasm.
When you lean back, you run a hand through your hair, then get off of his lap. “I’d like your cock in my mouth, now.” You kneel in front of him, staring up at him with a sultry expression.
Snape fucking scrambles to undo his belt, eyeing you hardly as he does. You giggle. When he reveals his cock, it’s hard and weeping, begging for attention he is sure. You lick your lower lip and grab at it. He rests his arms on the arms of the chair, watching you bring your mouth to him. You jerk your hand up and down it a few times, staring up at him with a damnable look. You hold his eyes as you lower your mouth to the bottom of his shaft. Your tongue sweeps out, warm and wet, and runs up the length of him. His hands squeeze the arms of the chair and his hips buck on their own accord.
“Look at you,” he begins, placing one hand on your head and pushing your hair out of your face. “Sucking my cock like a good girl in my office,” he muses. “You look so pretty, too.”
You smile small, then take the tip of him in your warm mouth. He sighs, his head falling back. “That’s so good,” he praises. You moan against him, a vibration washes over his shaft from it, making him hiss through his teeth.
His hips jerk and head tenses. When you begin the repetitive motions of taking him in and out of your mouth, he begins to pant. His hand grasps a handful of your hair and he applies gentle pressure, keeping you right where he wants you. After a minute, he groans deeply, ceasing his movement and coming apart. He pulls your hair slightly back, staring down at you as you begin to swallow his release. You moan as you do, you filthy girl, leaving nothing behind. He lets you go and leans back into the chair, chest heaving. When you take your mouth off him, a little pop rings out, and his eyes shut and roll back.
“That was a lot of cum,” you murmur, wiping your lips as you stand. Snape feels his neck and face warm up as he adjusts himself and zips his slacks up. “Turns me on,” you add, sitting back down on his lap. Snape envelops you in his arms, squeezing you firmly, placing his face into your neck. He inhales the sweet scent of you - he’s missed it.
“I want to see this place,” you request after coming down from your highs. Snape leans back, staring at you hesitantly. This school is full with students and professors currently, and he doesn’t know how anyone would take a muggle having a tour. He doesn’t want to get into trouble with the governors.
“How about in a couple of weeks. The spring holiday is then. The school will be fairly empty.”
You frown, sticking your lip out at him. “Fine,” you comply. Snape shoves an arm under your legs and stands, carrying you with ease towards his chambers.
“Sleep here with me tonight, though. We can have breakfast and eat on the balcony. Watch the sunrise,” he persuades. Your brows raise and you grin.
“Sounds romantic,” you say, surprised. When he carries you into his bedroom, he sits you down. You look around - the chamber is enchanted with a dark night sky across the vaulted ceiling, there’s a few moving pictures of various things hanging. The bathroom is down a narrow hallway. The oversized bed is made, with dark green blankets and many pillows, as Snape prefers.
“Sometime soon, my coworker would like to have tea with us. She’s an older woman. I’ve known her since I was a student here myself.”
Your brows raise. “Oh? Alright. Just tell me a good time later. We can have tea at my place. I can bake us something delicious to go with it,” you offer, staring up at the ceiling.
Once you’re done looking around, you kick your shoes off and place them nearly against the wall, then glance down the hallway to the bathroom, wandering down to it and shutting the door.
Snape takes his dress shirt, belt, trousers off, sending them to the laundry chute with a point of his wand. He lifts the blankets up and slides into bed, just in his boxers and undershirt, eyeing the hallway, waiting for you to return. It is like a dream, you being here. Perhaps you’d come just to sleep here one night a week. He could have the house elves bring you both tea and you could talk to each other until you’re both too tired.
When you reappear, you’re just in your sweater and underwear, carrying your pants in your arms. You place them by your shoes and watch him as you climb into the other side of your bed.
“A picture talked to me in the hallway,” you say, almost frightened. Snape chuckles lowly.
“What did it say?” he asks, turning towards you.
“They said… we see everything… does that mean…?”
Snape’s face goes cold and he falls silent. Did the portraits…see what you both were doing in the office? Snape assures you they’re just being snarky. You nestle close to him and shut your eyes. Your warm body and sweet smelling hair is the reason he falls asleep - the idea of the portraits watching you two being indecent has him apprehensive, though.
He knows one thing for sure now, and that is that he cannot wait to be fucking free of this school and its nosey portraits.