two | AM

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Ophelia carefully approached the window that would lead directly to her room, which she had left open for situations like these. It was two am and she was just getting back from a nightclub, which Cory had so kindly invited her to.

Cory was the first friend Ophelia had made when she moved in that summer. He had taken her under his wing and introduced her to all her current friends. He had really been there for her regarding her brother's death. He didn't know of her magical powers, though, her parents had a long time ago forbidden her to speak of it around muggles.

Ophelia's breath hitched in her throat when the window wouldn't budge. She pressed her forehead against the glass and then let out a long sigh, it was locked from the inside, she must have pushed it down too hard when she snuck out earlier that night. Ophelia didn't know if she could manage to sneak into the house without waking her mother, who was a light sleeper, or disturbing her father, who never slept.

She snuck around the house to the patio, the glass doors were almost always left unlocked. She swiftly slid the door open and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and the house was still quiet. It had been a week since the dinner with the Bentley's, and her father had been on edge ever since. It made the house a very dangerous place to be, her mother was walking on eggshells around him, and Ophelia found that it was easier and better for everyone if she just stayed away.

"Delisle," a voice whispered from the dark.

Ophelia flinched, and had she not been as intoxicated as she was, she might've even screamed. She turned around to face the owner of the deep voice, and even though she hadn't heard it for a week, she would know it anywhere, she would never be able to forget it.

"Snape," she greeted him, "how do you do this fine evening?"

"What exactly are you doing?" He asked through gritted teeth.

"I could ask you the same thing, Professor," she grinned at him.

He approached her swiftly, the moonlight giving them limited sight of each other. He grabbed her chin with his hand roughly, moving her head from side to side, inspecting her. She flinched and ripped his hand away, suddenly feeling very flustered.

"What the fuck?" She hissed.

"Are you drunk?" Snape glared at her.

"Frankly, I don't see how that's any of your business," Ophelia shrugged. She turned around and opened the fridge, however, Snape's hand stopped the door halfway and slammed it shut.

"Hey! I wanted tea to my milk," she crossed her arms over her chest and then frowned, "no.. the other way around, I wanted milk because I was going to make tea-"

"You're lucky that I am not halfway to your father's study right this second," he leaned down to get right in her face.

"Wait," she closed her eyes and shook her head, "you're not going to tell my father?"

"Consider this a favor, Miss Delisle," he whispered, "one of very few that I will ever offer you."

"Wow, don't you know how to make a girl feel special," she scoffed.

Snape rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, "go to bed, Miss Delisle."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm not going to bed," she stated, narrowing her eyes in his, "not yet, anyway."

"And why not?" He growled, annoyed at her disobedience.

"Cause I won't be able to fall asleep," she snapped.

"And how would you know that, without even trying?" Snape raised an eyebrow.

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