warnings: slight violence
word count: 2558

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"Wake up," Cesira grumbled something under her breath when a pointy, cold tool spiked her hip.

She jumped, wand at the ready, seeing a white marble, motionless face mere inches from her face. Her heart dropped, to be awakened by a giant statue was actually pretty startling.

"What the hell Athena?!"

The statue lurched back to its post without a single word, letting Cesira recover from it all.

She noticed a clad-black wizard still sleeping in a sitting position beside her on the little loveseat.

Oh, fuck.

"Snape..." she nudged his shoulder.

"Oi come on you arse, wake up!" she could see his eyelids flutter.

"Severus!" she opted, her tongue writhing as his first name rolled off her throat.

The brooding wizard shot up, wand in hand, just like her. He furrowed and looked around, realising with a well collected face that he was not, in fact, in his room.

That there were things to attend to, lessons to teach, dunderheads to supervise, witches to survive.

"Breakfast hasn’t started yet, you should get going." Cesira mumbled, already torturing herself for not doing the one goddamn thing she was supposed to do as a Head.

What would they think of her skipping one of the pivotal and more stressful moments in one's duties as a Head of house? Would they judge her as untrustworthy? Will they call her 'feathered cub' just like everyone in her dorm did a decade ago?

What will Filius think of me? Does Minerva already know?

He quickly shoved down his confusion – and the subtle need to sleep under that ceiling just for a while more – strutting toward the door.

"Change robes, I'll cover up for you." he instructed slowly, darting a sidelook before disappearing from her sight.

Cover up for me? Oh Merlin, save me from whatever he has on his mind.

She made a quick change of robes, donning one of her favourite pieces she got to use for formal Order meetings, her fingers grazed the smooth fabric as if touch could bring withered moments back again.

What to fucking say to the kids? What to promote? Should she speak loudly or in soft whispers like him? Should she be equally balanced between empathy and discipline or be a complete arsehole? How many versions of herself should she change?

Once she got in front of the Ravenclaw's handleless door, it flunged open, revealing none other than Severus fucking Snape coming out of the common room. Was he even allowed to do that?

He gave her a smug smirk of his, gloating in his numb appeal.

"No need to thank me. I dare say the kids are dying to meet their new Head, do not disappoint them."

He really helped me? I must've poisoned him, I sure hope I did.

He slipped past her, exchanging their usual unreadable look. His earthy, sour scent set her lungs ablaze before being swept away by the cold, harsh scottish snowy weather as they were both standing on the spiral stairs that connected to the blues tower.

"Might you need any advice from a seasoned Head of house?" he was only praising himself, not actually willing to clear her mind. His baritone scared away teensy snowflakes from his nose.

"No, thanks. Any advice from you would be punishment for me." she snapped with a handful of bite in it, widening his hypnotizing, punchable Slytherin grin.

Snow falls on him so gracefully, as if a thestral were mingled with a unicorn.

"Your common room is... remarkable."

"Yours surely stinks."

He held his chin up, his house pride flashing through his obdisian eyes trickling down her frame, inspecting her robes. She felt naked in the heart of a blizzard.

"Get inside, you're quaking."

With a dramatic swish of his black cloak – though among the candor of snow it showed hues of dark green – he vanished down the corridor.
Always the last word.

She took a deep breath, solved the tricky quiz in a minute, and surpassed the threshold.

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Well, what to say.

Younger students were left speechless, opinionless, if not slightly taken aback by the witch. They were kids, they had a harder time adjusting to new circumstances – that was a mild win on her account, to say the least. She expected that, knowing they were still perfectly bottled up in the common stereotypes of each house.
But they had been quiet and reserved all her little speech, thus she needn't reproach a soul.

On the other hand, she spent the remaining pieces of her presentation playing and singing with everyone up from the fourth year – and them grown kids had been the most enthralled audience she had ever seen.
They exchanged sassy comments with their Head, begging her to share her knowledge on spells and combat skills she briefly demonstrated to her faithful little clan. Most of them belonged to the house quidditch team, thus she identified herself in their liveliness. Erika Hatch, their Captain and Prefect, kept chatting with her all the way to breakfast.
She reminded Cesira so much of her teenage self.

"Will you actually train us, Professor?" she awed.

"Of course I will Miss Hatch, Quidditch is everything there is to the Hogwarts experience."

They stopped before the altar dedicated to former Quidditch cup winners alongside the Grand Staircase draped in green and silver.
She crossed her arms, faintly nudging her shoulder.

"We will make sure that thing will shine in blue and bronze by the end of the year, you can count on that."

Erika grinned, darting a challenging stare to the greens slithering inside the Great Hall with their insufferable, poisonous Head leading the pack.
Ah yes, the never dying staring contests between quidditch rivals. She had mastered that particular stare after hours of training with her mates.

"See? They don't think we're a threat, they only care about Gryffindors." Cesira whispered, smirking smugly at Snape frowning at the sight of those two witches giving a deadly stare to his snakes.

"About time we give them something to really worry about." her student countered, giving a curtly nod to the greens team Captain.

"That's the spirit Miss Hatch, now off you all fly to your seats!" she raised her voice so everyone from her poult followed suit, sorting out an appoinment with the team to start their harsh training.

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"They told me you had terrorized them into not saying a word nor producing a thought on my unexplicable absence."

She scolded him, albeit that was exactly what she expected from his definition of 'cover up for someone'.

Snape shrugged, elegantly eating his English breakfast whilst supervising the maze of dunderheads before his large nose.

"It appears you have not disappointed them... yet. I shall be more patient to properly taste your downfall, then."

Cesira swallowed her muesli, accidentally vanishing his upcoming bite of beans.

"I wonder if you'd be able to act like this in front of Athena."

He scoffed. "It's amusing to me how you can't face me without the help of your silly enchanted statue."

Cesira faked pondering. "Yeah, I can't face you because you're hideous."

He finally turned his head in her direction, tilting it slowly and giving her enough silent, staring time to let discomfort seep through her blue robes. She loathed his starless eyes.

Yes, in an hour you two will be pranking each other until nighttime.

"Your attempts at looking tough thinly veil an inferiority complex bigger than an Erumpent."

Cesira quirked her lips, struggling not to burst out laughing at his wordy, snappy comments she secretly found absolutely hilarious – though he always intended to strike a nerve.
This time he truly did, but she could lick her wounds and pretend they don't exist like no one else.

"My, someone's been doing Hagrid's homework, 'atta boy."

Then it happened: the Great Hall was emptied unbeknownst to them – skinning each other alive with an unbreakable glare always engulfed them in their own bubble –, Cesira stood up to go brace her lesson, colliding with the wall as she found herself face to neck with her nemesis.

He looked much taller from this perspective, more regal and quite buff. She couldn't see the empty tables due to his broad shoulders and his hands resting beside her head.

She bit her lip, playfully thrusting her hips forward, making him retreat his narrow ones.

"Do you seriously think your pathological outbursts will scare me? You are fighting a lost war Snape."

He bruised her chin, forcing her neck to its maximum, an inch away from breaking it. Cesira smiled, letting him have the upper hand.
His inky strands caressed her face as he breathed on her face, a white menacing light in his eyes.

Ah, this might be the door to the snake's wrath.

"Stop wasting time finding the words to altercate with me," he bared his teeth, "I will always have the last word with uneducated brats like you."

Her eyelid fluttered at his baritone scratching a rather low harmony, messing with her insides as if he casted a flipendo maxima to her stomach. She could either fall asleep or get aroused from it.

Then she caught him squinting at her wide smile, thus she bit her lip, savouring getting him really riled up for the first time.

"Who has an inferiority complex now, uh?"

Before he could threaten her further, the massive shadow found himself pinned to the wall with her elbow crushing his jugular and his tattooed arm in her claws, twisted in an unnatural position.

Cesira bared her teeth this time, digging her nails into the wool, hoping to be blocking his blood circulation right where he had his mark.

"I could dislocate your shoulder with a tug of my hand, you know? Don't attack me if you are not ready to defend yourself."

She let go of him, storming out the big room, bumping into a shorter, blond witch.

"Penny!" she actually smiled, allowing her to a hug.

Penny had bigger eyes than usual, her hands clutched to her chest as if to contain whatever brooding joy she was withholding within herself.

"Who made my rooms?" she squeaked in excitement, her eyes already scanning the lower west floor so as to spot someone. She knew who she was looking got.

"Me and your tutor did."

Penny suddenly ran past her, hugging tight a tall man who stiffened and lightly tapped her back – until he saw her again, seconds apart from their little fight.

Cesira quirked her lips in a little smirk, perceiving the healing spell he had casted on himself.
They didn't say a thing, not a 'sorry', anything.

"That's enough Beechwood, you have your lesson to teach."

"What?!"

Snape hummed, looking down at her giggling euphoric state.

"Ask the dunderheads, I don't have time to waste babysitting you."

Penny turned to ask Cesira, but she was gone.

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"I want you to teach me." he hissed on her face as he got out of DADA classroom, changing shift with her.

Cesira stopped dead in her steps, their deadpans seizing one another in a frozen atmosphere surrounding them.

"Teach you what?" she whispered, bite and all.

Snape looked around, prying away students interested with their proximity in a single glance.

"To defend myself with your... muggle style." he countered in a disgusted way, the burning slap of shame for getting humbled by her blazing fiercely on his face. But there was also curiosity in his eyes, an innocent kind.

Cesira, much to her own surprise, didn't mock him for it.

"Alright, my quarters. After dinner. Make sure you digested everything."

He wanted to be better than her even at that, and she would never let him take the throne. To learn her ways in order to destroy her from within? Not a chance.
Mischievous, Machiavellian bastard.

He was a slut for revenge, just like her.

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Their training session never came, though.

Cesira was to exit the common room after spending a fun evening with her students, getting to know each other a bit, reading sleep deprivated first years bedtime stories and then going on bantering with the older ones on the silky sofas, getting involved in all the latest teen dramas of the school – she even plotted to make a raven and, obviously, a snake go on a date for the upcoming weekend at Hogsmeade.

"Today's training was the best fun I've ever had Professor, thank you."

Erika genuinely thanked her for all the mud and sweat she had proudly donned during their harsh session, feeling stronger than ever for the matches.

Cesira tapped twice on her shoulder, when a distant sparkle drawned her to the window that was facing the Forbidden Forest.

She summoned binoculars, narrowing her sapphire; there she saw it: a ghostly figure surrounded by a flowing white smoke, looking directly at her. It had a skull-like face for all she could see.

It wasn't a good sign, it wasn't even a creature known to her nor to Erika, who was now spotting the same, eerie thing her teacher was looking at.

"Do not let anyone get out the dorm, do you understand?" she grasped her shoulder again, growing worry and care lacing her tongue.

Erika nodded, attempting a tough outline, just like Cesira used to do when inside she only wanted to run away and never fight again.

"And do not dare to follow me Miss Hatch, whatever you'll see from this window."

Cesira ran away from the common room, almost jumping all the stairs steps in order to get to the forest quickly.

Snape, I need him. God I wish I shouldn't say that.

"Accio Cleansweep!"

A slim broomstick sprinted towards her from her office, allowing her to hop on it a step away from falling down the Grand Staircase.

She headed for the dungeons, avoiding Filch and some young rebels to whom she shouted to immediately get back to their dorms.

Midway to the damp undergrounds, she swiftly halted not to knock him over with her alarming speed.

"Snape! Hop on I saw something in the Forbidden Forest," she explained between breaths, observing his confusion turn into worrysome.

"It might be connected to the voice."

She felt his strong arms intertwine on her lap, his intoxicating, masculine scent bathing her in suppressed, fluttering stomach-fireflies all over again.

She expertedly soared through the nightsky, landing where she saw the figure.

"I don't see a thing Blyde, maybe you drank too much with your beloved students." he reprimanded her as soon as they started hunting the place down.

"Stop thinking about me for a second will you?"

He whipped around to counter, a flying spell slipped past him as a ghostly figure got sent back into the woods several feets away, into the darkness.

"Get inside, warn Minerva." ordered Cesira, heading head first toward the danger.

His large strides immediately synced with hers, his cloak ever so slightly touching the undergrowth.

"I am not letting you face this alone, you reckless witch."

Cesira thanked darkness for hiding her shy smile and her flushed cheeks.

Once they got attacked again by other two unknown ghosts, their backs almost naturally glued together.
She looked around: they were surrounded by those dead wizards of evil.

She felt his heart beating through his spine, and so did he.

"Ready when you are, Sev."