Living in Shadows [Harry Potter Fanfiction]

Chapter Thirteen | Bowen Manor, December 31 1978

Chapter Thirteen

Bowen Manor, December 31st 1978

 

               Hazel did not sleep well on New Years Eve.

There had not been great expectations of the evening, as she had to go to a Death Eater meeting-Severus would be there, Voldemort would be there, Bellatrix Lestrange and her death glares would be there. Hazel would have to see them all.

The meeting had begun at dusk, as the fog rolled over the hills and blanketed the little town in a classic English haze. There had been goblin made wine, Voldemort sitting at the head of the long and glossy black table like a self elected king, his followers gazing upon him with a mixture of jealousy, awe and loathing.

Wearing her best black dress robes, Hazel had sat on his right-Bellatrix Lestrange beside her, attacking the wooden surface with a diamond hilted knife. The evening had gone from bad to worse, when they gathered in the Manor ball room, candles lining the floor, casting shadows upon the angelic ceiling.

They had watched the Dark Lord torture her, create new scars over the old ones and hiss insults. They watched him lean down and whisper in her ear, see her trembling in a pool of her own blood.

‘You are mine, Hazel Bowen-never doubt that. I will always find you, no matter how far or fast you run. You will never escape.’

From the edges of the mob, Severus had viewed the horrifying scene with a straight face, the only evidence of his emotional pain the tight grip on his wand. The moment Voldemort and his Death Eaters had left, Severus rushed to he side.

Hazel was delirious, shaking violently and pale as the snow that had melted just yesterday. Taking her in his arms, Severus carried her upstairs, undressed her down to her little black slip and tucked her beneath the covers.

Afraid to leave her alone, Severus sat down to wait. He wouldn’t stay long, just enough time to see if she was okay…but the fire was warm and the night had been stressful. The gentle crackling of the fire, a good novel and a cup of tea brought to him by the house elf soon lulled him to sleep.

Waking just ten minute before the New Year, Hazel sat up in her large four poster bed to see Severus sitting in an arm chair before the fire, snoring gently.

Slipping out of her bed, Hazel walked slowly across the room, shivering slightly. Taking a moment to admire the way his shirt was unbuttoned completely and how the firelight hit his angular features, Hazel felt a surge of longing flow through her. He was there, sitting in her room with his shirt open and looking like a medieval painting; what was a girl to do?

Sliding onto his lap, Hazel straddled her oldest friend and gently moved his shaggy hair back. It was silky and smooth, like strands of black silk. His eye lids were pale, and she could see his eyes moving beneath; they were treasure chests waiting to be opened, his cheeks pillows for her lips to travel across. Sharp cheek bones were the yellow brick road, finally leading her lips to his in a gentle and sweet, urgent adventure.

Severus’ eyes fluttered open as her lips brushed his, lashes tickling her cheek. “Hazel-” he mumbled against her lips, but she merely pressed her body closer to his and kissed him harder, slow and demanding.

To his surprise, Severus felt himself melt into the kiss. Her lips were full and satiny, like flower petals. Hands like wings danced across his skin, tangling in his hair and running down his chest; her lashes were wet with tears, and he felt their saltiness on his tongue.

His own hands travelled across the continents of her body, from the round swell of her breast and across her collar bones and over her shoulders. Hazel’s body was bird like, tiny and delicate yet strong, light and lithe.

Somehow the kiss became more, and the shoulders of Hazel’s slip seemed to fall over her shoulders, the rest of the dress following. Severus had lost his shirt long ago, and his trousers came next.

The bed seemed oceans away, but the two friends fell upon it. In their minds, the closer their bodies got the more whole they felt.

Tangled in each others arms, unsure of where one ended and the other began, both felt more intact than ever before, yet so very empty.

A/N: It's my birthday and I felt like uploading. And yes it was supposed to be short.

Question: Um, thoughts? Yeah, Sev and Hazel did the naughty...

My way of putting the naughty into a poetic way. Bravo, Rose, bravo. Go back to watching Doctor Who now.