𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 || Severus Snape x OC ||

21. OF THORNS & ROSES

*.·:·.☽ ✧ ☾.·:·.*

The thunder broke the silence apart and dissolved his focus like ink in water, as loud and violent as a grand piano falling downstairs, then settled to a softer continuous rumble, almost drowned by the sound of the rain. Severus lifted his gaze up towards the glass windows where the skies' tears came falling down, very innocently at first, but the sky was packed tight with clouds and gradually the drops grew bigger and heavier, until it was autumn's dismal rain that was falling— rain that seemed to fill the entire world with its leaden beat, rain suggestive in its dreariness of everlasting waterfalls. Rain that thatched the heavens with drabness and brooded oppressively over the grounds of Hogwarts, like a disease, strong in the power of its flat, unvarying monotony, its smothering heaviness, its cold, unrelenting cruelty. Smoothly, smoothly it fell, over the whole castle, over the fallen marsh grass, over the Black Lake, the Forbidden Forest, smudging out every prospect. And the heavy, hopeless, interminable beat wormed its way into every crevice in the castle, lay like a pad of cotton wool over the ears, and embraced everything, both near and far, in its compass, like an unromantic story from life itself that has no rhythm and no crescendo, no climax, but which is nevertheless overwhelming in its scope, terrifying in its significance.

How long had it been? Three? Four hours perhaps? He couldn't remember precisely, and it matter little now. His harsh profile rose as his onyx eyes glanced as far as the veil of rein would let him. The steady thud of his heart kicked like a rebelling horse against its reins as his thoughts dwelled in his mind, safely hidden behind his silence. And he recalled against his own will the morning at the Forbidden Forest. He recalled her.

His chest rose slowly, as the furrow of his brows deepened.

He shouldn't have. He most definitely shouldn't have... Letting his guard down, letting his sentiments bleed out of him was not his way of doing things; it was not his way of living his multifaced yet secluded life. He should have stopped her, he should have stopped himself, too, but he couldn't bring himself to stride away, couldn't bring his hands to let go of her when she took the step he didn't dare to take and brought her mouth to his lips. Her taste... Her delicate form in his arms... Her raven thick locks welcoming his fingers as they brushed her hair and he held her against him. His blood pulsing in his veins; the atonement of his unconfessed desire, of the distant whisper of a wish, buried deep within, in his innermost locked up volts of his chest, where none ever should tread, not even himself.

Yet she had slid through the crevices of his stone walls like a breeze and ray of light. She had found that one exposed string of his heart before he could barricade it, and she had pulled on it. He had let her pull on it. Like the knots made by the hands of a sailor, she pulled a single string and the Gordian knot had come undone.

This cannot be, he had told her, moments before the overpowering urge had stripped him of his control and his heart paved the path for his emotions to come cascading all over her, as he enveloped her in his arms, and held her, lowering to the ground, letting her free him for a single moment of his chains with the force of her kiss. And he longed, he longed for more. Had he not held onto his remaining restraints, he would let his hands trail across the lines of her form, feeling her subtle curves beneath the fabric of her dress. He would squeeze the swells of her flesh in his hands, and let his tongue dance with hers as fire erupted everywhere and within him, answering the carnal calling of her body with the fierce but loving force of his want.

This cannot be, but it was. It was there, surging through him, pulsing in his blood, filling his lungs, and pounding his heart against its cage, as the wish which until now had been silent, came alive in his chest... And for three months, for three months he took her to the Forest, and behind his shielding spell, he taught her of spells old and new. Those she had read about and some she never knew. And each day he watched her eyes sparkle and beam at him. Each day he watched her heed his every word, follow his instructions, striving to keep up with all he expected of her. She wasn't questioning him, wasn't doubting him. But she was of no light heart and daft mind, no. Her keen eyes absorbed anything he was showing her with a thirst for the unknown, for the world that was still veiled with mystery for her. And he fought, he fought with the growing urge in his chest to hold her, to hold her again. To bring her mouth to his, to savour each kiss. To love her.