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To Hogwarts from the New World by Melpomene Erato [Reviews - 1]

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To Hogwarts from the New World

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everyone and everything described in this tale except the main female character, the characters Felding, Roche, and Stroessner, and the story relating to these characters, which belong to me. These characters are entirely fictitious and any relation to any person living or dead is a coincidence. I make no money from this story nor intend to. Rating: PG-13. Author's suggestion: to feel the mood for this chapter, I suggest you listen to Serge Prokofiev's "Death of Juliet" (from the ballet "Romeo and Juliet") before or while you read it.





Chapter 6 Thoughts in the night


Severus Snape slammed the dormitory door behind him. He had just come from the Headmaster's office.

Rage.

Pure, murderous rage throbbed through every inch of his body.

Potter and Black would pay for this... tenfold.

Without prompting, his mind returned to the horrible scene on the grounds that had followed their Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. that day. He couldn't believe that he had been so careless as to let them catch him by surprise.

The Headmaster had done what he always did: detention, points docked from Gryffindor... as if that made one bit of difference!

The rage turned momentarily against Dumbledore. How dare he dismiss his humiliation like this? "...detention... points..." he thought with disgust. "Why not waggle your finger at them and ask them to play nice."

She had not been there. She always headed straight for the library after exams. She had probably heard by now, though... with glorious detail.

He paced the room feverishly. He couldn't settle down. A detached part of his brain suggested that reviewing for the four remaining O.W.L.s might distract him.

"Fat chance!" he thought fiercely.

He sat on the edge of his bed and leaned his face on his hands, closing his eyes. The thought of some group of giggling, gossipy girls telling her the tale of the attack between peels of laughter was too humiliating for words. He wondered how she would react.

"She won't laugh at me," he thought somberly. "She may hate me, but she hates that kind of vicious act even more." This thought gave a tiny ray of comfort to him.

He wouldn't go to dinner. He'd conjure something for himself. He wouldn't leave his room except for the exams. He didn't want to deal with the students' taunts. Besides, he couldn't trust himself not to hex the first student who brought it up to pieces.

He had stomped around the room in a red, raging fury for three hours, until he had collapsed exhausted on his bed. He decided it wasn't a bad idea to put on his pajamas and close the curtains around his bed before his roommates came.


    *  *  *


He lay on his back with his arm draped over his forehead. The room was quiet, except for the occasional snoring from his roommates who had come to bed a couple of hours ago.

The anger, though still latent, had given way to a silent despair. He would never live this down. He knew this. For the rest of his life he would carry this humiliation as if it were branded on his forehead. The despair swelled in his chest, threatening to suffocate him. Would there be no justice? No retaliation sufficient? No comfort?

Comfort.

His thoughts returned to her. What he wouldn't give for words of support from her lips. He remembered what she had told him. "... I wanted you to put your arms around me and hold me close to you. I wanted to lean against you and feel safe and close, if only for the length of one dance."

He closed his eyes and envisioned holding her close. He imagined his hands circling around her waist, pulling her towards him. He could almost feel her head leaning on his chest. He imagined the closeness, the warmth, the quiet anticipation. He imagined caressing her hair, leaning in to place soft kisses on her forehead. She would tighten her hold on him and look up smiling... inviting. He could gaze into her eyes and lose his past, his sorrow, himself in them.

To be that close to her, inhaling her presence, abandoning all pretense. What pretense? Why? He just wanted her, he didn't care if she and the whole world knew it. Would she allow it? Leaning in for a gentle kiss... soft, warm lips meeting his. She would close her eyes, but not he. He wanted to see the want in her face as he caressed her mouth with his.

He imagined wrapping his arms around her tighter... safe...

She would feel safe, protected in his embrace. He would shield her from all that was banal, vulgar, unworthy. He would gather her in his arms, a rare treasure, guarded from everyone and everything. And she would know... know that he would protect her from the crass world that daily pounded on them, wanting to pull them down to its baseness. She would know this and feel safe in his arms.

The day's events with Potter flitted through his mind again. The image of her face close to his faded. "Yes, a Rock of Gibraltar,..." he grimaced, "a Titan who can protect her and make her feel SAFE." He pummeled his pillow and fought back tears of humiliation and rage.

He could never face her. The despair grew, almost physically blinding him. He could never be with her after this. Even daydreaming about her would be impossible... a man drowning in his own tears. He must abandon all hope, all thought of her.




Author: Melpomene Erato




To Hogwarts from the New World by Melpomene Erato [Reviews - 1]

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