New Years Eve. That one night of the year when you can really let go and be yourself, just for the sake of bringing in a cycle of new beginnings. A night of parties and drunken kisses, of rebirth and joy. Hogwarts was no exception. New Years Eve parties in the Great Hall were always something of a grand spectacle. Dumbledore loved to party and when cause for celebration came about, he was a sucker for it. Decorations were from wall to wall, from floor to ceiling wherever you looked in Hogwarts. Streamers, glitter and balloons. The Great Hall itself was an explosion of decorations, food and drink. Laughter rang through the halls, everyone was happy.
All except one.
Severus Snape sat at his desk in his chambers, alone. A glass of red wine in one hand and the bottle in the other. He was reading the back of the label, wondering if there were anything interesting about the drink he could read more on. He was that bored. Of course, he had been invited to the Great Hall for the massive party that was taking place but what reason did he have to go? He hated large groups of people, especially large groups of kids and drunken Professors who he usually had to force himself to be polite to. He had made his excuses, saying he had other arrangements. He was way too stubborn to come to the party, or any party apart from the start and end of year ceremonies, but that was only because they were official. If he neglected to come to those he would look really, really rude.
He sighed loudly, safe in the knowledge that no-one ever came close enough to his chambers to hear his loneliness and topped up his glass. He looked at the liquid and for a few moments in the silence of his private rooms he became horribly aware of how his solitude was beginning to bear down on him. He had always preferred to think in the past that being alone was his choice and that he thrived off his own company, but as time wore on he was getting less and less sure of it.
Yes, sometimes he could waste time for an entire evening doing things necessary for Potions; cleaning vials, preparing solutions for Madam Pomfrey, or even just reading up on what he was about to teach for the next day. Sometimes even just a good book would help him waste hours, even if he struggled to keep his eyes on the print. He couldn’t help but wonder if there were something more. There must be other things out there that could do with his attention.
Only he knew what his mind was really referring to, but it was a dangerous thing to consider, so he tried with all his might to shove it away somewhere dark in his mind where it would have trouble escaping again.
He knew that certain distractions were becoming more and more of a problem and he wasn’t too comfortable about it. He was feeling less like himself when she came into his lessons now, more like an idiot who can’t do anything right. He was certain others were noticing. How could they not? His resolve was so solid now, even Dumbledore was having trouble getting through. She had made him push people away even more, if that was possible. He couldn’t deal with the feelings, he wasn’t used to it. He hadn’t loved anyone in so long the feelings were like when you get them for the very first time again. But not in a good way. He just knew if he did anything about she would reject him and he had been rejected by damn near everyone and everything his entire life, he couldn’t take it again.
And why shouldn’t she reject him? What could a man of forty, actually no, an ugly, hated, moody, impatient man of forty give her?
She was watched and admired by every boy in the school. She was in her sixth year and she sparkled like a firework. He hated to see them looking at her. Their eyes were hungry, their mouths open virtually frothing and their fingers almost visibly itching to get in her knickers. It was no good, they were not good enough for her. He wanted so badly just to reach out and touch her. To feel if her skin was as soft as it looked. Just to brush past her without making it look intentional would be enough. On those rare occasions when he had managed to do just that, he felt like she had been white hot fire and he would have to snatch his hand back and nurse the burns on his fingertips. It was wrong, just wrong to love a pupil.
He didn’t want her first few sexual experiences to be crap. He knew all the boys that lusted after her would be after one thing and one thing only, to get her straight into bed, fuck her and then leave her. She was the most beautiful conquest. The unspoken Slytherin house cup. He wanted her first times to be special, he wanted her to feel as special as she so obviously was, even if that honor could not be bestowed upon himself.
How he hated her at times for making him need her. It wasn’t that he just needed company, he needed more than that. He needed her and only she could do. If he couldn’t have her then he didn’t want anyone else. Ever. Because his lust was almost complete, he could almost feel her by his side in his bed when he awoke in the middle of the night. He would wake from those awkward dreams about them together and then instantly put his hand out to check if she were there. And of course, she never was.
She was in the Slytherin dorms, asleep. Not thinking about him, but dreaming of boys her own age probably, boys who were more to her taste.
He slammed the bottle down on the his desk. His eyes wandered over the objects there and finally came to rest on a paperweight an old lover had given him as a gift. It was a simple glass orb with a rose in the middle. The rose was perfectly suspended in the glass, its petals open and red and inviting forever. She had told him when he looked at it to always think of her. He lifted his hand high and threw it at the wall. It shattered into a few pieces and fell to the floor.
The noise did not make him start. He didn’t make a flinch. He took a large gulp of wine and realized it was probably safe to assume at that point that he was drunk. But that was fine by him because as always there was no-one there to take a bit of notice or care how he was feeling.
He heard the noise of the front castle doors being heaved open and then laughter ripped through his silence. He glanced up at the loudly ticking clock and saw it was ten past midnight. Happy New Year Severus. Whatever. He wondered if he should go down there and see what was going on. If it were pupils then he may as well doing one thing that gave him at least a bit of pleasure; telling them to fuck off to bed and not disturb him. That would do the world of good for his reputation.
He took his glass and went over to the window to see who was there. He should have guessed through the pure irony that it would not be a sight to make things any better.
Elizabeth and her gang of bitchy little friends had come outside to play in the snow. They were obviously as drunk as Lords and had no feel for the cold at all. They were pulling each other about, scrapping, throwing snowballs, generally being drunk teenage girls on New Years Eve.
He sighed again and rested his head on the windowpane. She was so happy, so pissed, not a care in the world for the pains that ate him up. She didn’t care that when she stared at him in the classroom it made him feel like flinging himself at her feet. He would not feel this way, he could not, it was wrong and presumptuous for him to think that just because she looked at him when others dared not to that she actually liked him. It’s just there were those times when she stared for a little bit too long and he was left with no other conclusion but that. She was amazing.
He watched her. She had worn something simple yet effective for the New Years party it seemed; a short black skirt and black v-necked jumper. He would have expected her to wear something a little more sluttish, but that was the way his fantasies lead him to think, not his reality. She also wore black boots and a scarf. She was throwing snowballs at another girl but he had no idea who she was. Her thighs were visibly pink beneath her skirt, frostbitten and forbidden. The white snow glittered around her as she pranced about, laughing and tossing her ebony curls around. Then she pushed her friend to the floor. They both tumbled onto their backs and lay there laughing for a little while. Elizabeth began to make snow angels. Did she not feel the cold? The other girls were giggling and sharing a bottle of something, drinking straight from the bottle, hardly the most ladylike thing to do. He wanted to be down there with her, for the other girls to go so he could hold her in the ice. Warm her from the cold, kiss her frozen nose and hold her tiny hands. Hold her until she understood he was not a monster, he just didn’t know how to act around people, especially those he craved for so badly.
She was in another world, she was very drunk as he had noticed, but also high on lust. He hadn’t attended the party. She had looked for him desperately if only to watch him, but he never showed. She scolded herself, knowing what a recluse he was. She shouldn’t have expected any more from him.
She could sense him looking out of his window so that must mean he had heard the excessive noise and had been lured closer to her. With any luck, he might get cross and come down to tell them off. It was no mistake that she had dragged her friends to play on the patch of snow that fell directly beneath the windows of his chambers. Where his chambers were was no secret and it was also no secret that he would still be awake, probably voicing opinions to himself on how pointless New Years Eve is in a drunken stupor.
Elizabeth had needed to find him; her New Years Eve would not be complete without just a glimpse of those shining black eyes. There was no way she was going to just go to bed with a bellyful of peppermint schnapps and forget about his absence to dream alone. In drunkenness she sought him out. If he had been at the party she knew all she would have done is stare at him and wish she had the courage to approach the bubble of solitude that surrounded him.
Her intoxication liberated her, she wanted him to know what she felt, but how could she ever even talk to him? She was fine with staring at him, making herself known in his mind through the use of her beautiful eyes, but confronting the most hated Professor at Hogwart’s with a confession of love would be impossible. It was not something she could do.
Did he have feelings for her too? It was impossible to read anything but malice in those eyes. If he wanted her then he kept it well hidden but sometimes she was sure he was looking at her differently. When he had no reason to be looking, when she was working her neck hairs would prickle and she would look up. That was when he would briskly look away, back down to his book or stack of papers.
Her skin ached from the snow, but this was for him. She got up and dusted herself off from her writhing. This display was for him. Every move she made, she ensured her body would be available in glimpses, she could and she would feed those hungry, lonely eyes.
He sipped again, knowing that going down there to tell them off would be impossible, he could not risk losing the moment, erasing the mental images she was painting in his tired mind. He realized his heart was thumping. She was driving him insane. He raked a hand through his curtain of jet hair and finished the rest of the glass.
"Happy New Year, Professor Snape!" She shouted suddenly, right up at his window. He stepped back, he had forgotten that he could be seen from the outside. He stepped back so he could see her but she couldn’t see him.
"Why don’t you come down and have a snowball fight with us?" she shouted again.
"Shurrup, what are you shouting to him for? Don’t Lizzie, he’ll be down here in a flash and we’ll be in detention before you know it." one of her friends yelled.
He walked away from the window and sat down on the edge of his bed, slowly. She had seen him. He hoped she would just think he was keeping a watchful eye over what they were doing. Blood rushed to his cheeks. He put a hand to his head and cupped his forehead, staring down to his knees in fierce embarrassment. She had done it again; made him feel like a fool.
Elizabeth was still looking up at the window, her hands firm on her hips, hoping he would come back and waiting for some kind of reaction, even a bad one. If he did have feelings for her then she must have scared them out of him with that little incident. She turned over to see her friends. They had begun to traipse back up to the school doors, leaving her alone, chattering and laughing loudly, drowning out everything subtle.
"I love you, Professor…" she whispered. A plea directed up to a black, bleak and empty window. He couldn’t hear her. She breathed out loudly and felt the despondency of her segregation from him. She turned and walked after her friends.
