warnings: knives-fighting, cursing, dry humping, blood
word count: 3363

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"You've improved Snape," she praised him as he got out of her bathroom and joined her on the loveseat near the hearth.

It was a snowy evening, and just like any other Severus visited Cesira in her quarters to let her train him - muggle way.

They didn't necessarily touched, he was cunning enough to do things correctly simply by watching her examples. Much to his surprise, the woman never spiked him with barks and sassy reproaches - in short, she was a brilliant teacher. But she would never hear that from him.

Then, after their session, she would let him take a shower so as not to stink of sweat and adrenaline all the way to his dungeons. They would sit on her loveseat, stare at the ceiling or watch a quiet snowfall from a window.

Silence dominated their little private moments, seldom ensued by ordinary sentences one would share with any stranger, really.

"What's your favorite tea?"

"Earl grey."

"I'll take up your lesson on boggarts tomorrow."

"Fine."

"Have you seen my cloak?"

"Yes, it's right there."

And so on, nothing really worth telling. Yet, he could never go straight to his chambers, no - he felt almost obliged to play his silent role in that little ritual etched with coziness and peaceful quiet.

"Practice makes perfect, Blyde." he grimaced as she curled her legs on the sofa, resting her feet a breath away from his left thigh.

They never talked about the quest, nor anything of serious matters.

"Still, I know you wouldn't win in a real fight against me." she countered, their egos growling at each other.

Snape merely shifted his relaxed eyes, huffing in denial. "Hubris is a doom."

She beamed, nudging him on the leg.

"Hear hear, spoken like a true Homer's hero."

He rolled his eyes, pouring some firewhiskey in his tumblr, knowing she wouldn't approve of consuming alcohol right after practice. She also knew he wouldn't give a mad fuck about her opinion, thus she resorted to scoffing loudly in disapproval.

Right after silence slumbered their limbs, his soft swallowing blending with creaking flames, his grip on her glass tightened as snakes do when suffocating their prey.

"You have to tell me if there will be Death Eaters looking for you once we'll be on our way, Cesira."

Shit, he's on first name basis. Means he wants serious answers and not my usual bullshit.

Cesira wasn't fazed nor shocked: Severus was known to be an observant, genius-level man, he had probably figured her out within her first weeks at the castle. Still, he couldn't remember their fateful night for the life of his. Did he expect her to try to kill him someday? Surely enough.

So, her main plot had crumbled down in no time - now she found herself in a bigger thing, a greater narrative.

"I think so."

He clenched his jaw, bowing his head to toss his unreachable thoughts into the glass he was cradling, hair shielding his high cheekbones.

"I can't fight them, and you can't kill them as an unauthorized hunter."

She frowned, waves lifting her organs just to let them fall down the abyss of her doubts.

"Why can't you fight them? You don't belong to them anymore, or so you said."

Had it been her first month there she would have taken out her wand, dueling him out of morbid conviction he was still on the evil side of history.

December, though, translated her staggering trust into a simple, soft spoken question in his proximity.

"Dumbledore." was all he said.

Of course, always relying on the only one who's not here to confirm his loyalties.

"Fine. I choose to trust him, not you Severus." she retorted, secretly hating the venom poisoning her words for they were cruelly honest.

Despite everything, she could never trust him - he could never trust her.

"So, due to your unregistered crimes we must hide away even from them, along with Expirivits." he chided, standing up to signal he was going to take leave and slither back to his quarters.

Cesira mirrored him, battling with his after-shower scent of fresh parchment and misty drizzles encaving seared snow.

"You dare speak of crimes when you have darkness tattooed on your skin? I have mourned the people you killed, Severus."

Neither inched forward, sinking inside their own guilt would suffice any physical contact.

"Yet you are drawn to the Dark Arts, you have slaughtered evil men with their own magic," he had expected her to throw a tantrum by now, "your soul is just as maimed as mine."

Would she take out her wand and hex him? Would she yell, raise her fists and put to practice what she had been teaching him? Would she let rage warp her ruined features again? Would she show him how rooted her ill-temper was?

Cesira's chest heaved, then stilled.

"Do you want to play the piano?" she asked.

"Yes, I do." he answered.

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"See? I can't reach those keys with one hand for the life of me," she quipped, tutoring him as he played Für Elise - his favorite classical piece - "you just have to practice on your hands-foot coordination."

She nudged his foot from the pedal, telling him to split roles.

"Merlin, your legs are always in the way." she muttered between her teeth, almost thrusting him off the velvet stool.

Snape groaned in annoyance. "Sit on my legs you dense woman."

Cesira smirked, her long locks hiding the ends of her ears turning dark red.

She obeyed without any salacious comment, propping herself on his muscular thighs as her foot finally reached the pedal in a comfortable position.
She could feel his whiskey breath scratching at her neck.

"Alright, you know the moves: hit it!"

His performance came in naturally, his slender pale fingers swimming in a sea they seemed to have known forever. She accompanied with her foot work, correcting him every now and then - though it was almost impossible to distinguish his teensy mistakes with his inky strands grazing her shoulder.

"I hate to have to praise you every single time, but you are a very clever man. Should've been in Ravenclaw if you ask me."

He placed his hands on the sides of the stool, avoiding her body still weighing on his legs.

"Don't be ridiculous, I never liked blue."

She grinned and lifted herself up, lending him her old music sheet to practice with.

"Get out before I throw a wobbly on your stealing my book."

He turned around before opening the door.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

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"Good afternoon ladies," chirped Penny as she joined teachers sitting round a table at the Three Broomsticks for their student trip to Hogsmeade.

"Oh, darling, come revive us seasoned witches," Pomona cared to squeeze to the right to let her sit between her and Minerva.

Hooch looked as if a first year had set fire to her brooms, Sprout was fidgeting with her glass, Minerva sipped her tea in attempt to forget how a second year had transfigured a cauldron into a giant cat.

Cesira was sitting on the window sill conjuring teensy snowflakes, Severus crossed his legs as he was quietly reading by the fire.

She peeped behind the glass, keeping a watchful eye on the students passing by below. Snape darted looks at her every now and then, rolling his eyes when Minerva knowingly smirked on his way back to the pages.

"What happened? You all look rather... done." Penny asked.

"Dunderheads, that's why." he explained briefly, flipping a page.

"Don't call them that, boy." reprimanded Pomona.

Snape arched both his brows, faking guilt. "I apologize, was I too kind?"

Everyone rolled their eyes, exception made for a soft chuckle coming from the window sill.

"Some of them asked me to invite you to a proper snowball fight, no magic." she pleaded with big puppy eyes.

Minerva laughed. "We are way too old for that lassie, tell them to play consciously and by the rules."

Cesira jumped from her seat, adjusting her informal robes consisting of low waist woolen slacks and an oversized knitted sweater.

"I'm in Penny."

"Of course you are." commented Snape, his tongue laced with disgust.

Cesira smirked. "What? Are you joining us you big bat?"

He closed his read and thrusted his charcoals right into her sapphire.
"Do not curse Blyde, I am Severus Snape."

Penny laughed. "Of course you are!"

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"My word, we have never broke the rules with teachers before!" Fred Weasley whispered to contain his excitement.

"What if he catches us?" complained Penny.

George comforted her. "That's the fun part Miss Beechwood!"

Cesira halted them with her raised hand, peeking from a corner into a pitch dark corridor in the dungeons.

"Boys, if you fail to steal all the ingredients we need for the banquet I'll tell Professor McGonagall I found you sneaking out past curfew, again. Understood?"

"Trust us, we're professionals."

Penny whimpered. "You could've just asked him instead of breaking into his storage at night, Cesira!"

Cesira smirked under the lumos light.

"Where's the fun in that Penny?"

The trio easily got into the closet as she had just neutralized his warning charm on the door, staying out to watch their back.

After some time they all got out of it, carefully closing the door behind them. Fred and George snickered with a handful of hideous stuff in their arms.

"You are far too experienced for your own good Weasleys," she quipped, "now we go to the towers and you back to your common room, a word on this and I'll make sure to let him find you next time." she threatened.

Speaking of the devil, a distant sound of footsteps she could recognize anywhere started echoing throughout the halls.

"Shit! Run, I'll deceive him."

She grabbed the twins by their collars and yanked them forward to get their marathon started, Penny was already running for her life two feet ahead.

Cesira noxed her light and caused a marble bust to roll on the ground, correcting his footsteps in its direction.

Alas, just as she passed a corner she was fully displayed under his furious gaze.

He knew she wasn't on shift, and how she enjoyed getting under his skin - even with the help of dunderheads like herself.

She nervously smiled.

"Do you ever sleep?"

"No."

Fucking hell.

She sprinted away, waving her wand to conjure all kinds of obstacle to slow him down - he vanished them all.

"You're not going anywhere this time, Blyde!" he bellowed.

"Really? 'Cause you're already panting old git!" she mocked.

Cesira was fast and agile as a cheetah, jumping a bench as she grazed a column with her hand, muffling an adrenaline-induced scream as she felt his fingers try to imprison her wrist.

He was so fucking close.

"My training is paying off!"

She conjured a bridge, yes, a mist-made bridge that disappeared after her every step, helping her jump on the roof of the courtyard.

She looked down at him, spinning her wand between her fingers.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?"

He stopped right below her, his glacial stare clawed directly at her heart, squeezing it in thrilling fear.

"When I'm going to put my hands on you I swear..." his baritone climbing up the columns to penetrate her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Looks like you'll be running all night then," she proclaimed as she threw two of her daggers - Merlin knew how many she was hiding - at his cloak, pinning it to the ground much to his surprise.

"If you'll be able to run at all."

She started walking backwards, getting closer and closer to the edge of the roof that was perched on a rocky cliff, an abyss waiting for her down below.

Snape felt his heart beating wild for a split second. "Stop-"

She flipped him off as she fell into cold nothingness.

Severus wanted to rush and see if she had really gone mental and was now splattered somewhere below, but a white smokey frame soaring towards the lake stopped him in his steps.

Unsopported flight, of course. She remained a former member of the Order, the most daredevil one he had met.

Cesira gave out a winning howl, rolling and weaving through the foggy night.

She glimpsed back to see Hogwarts fading behind her - all she encountered was a black smokey frame flying at full speed in her direction.

Fuck, he's a Death Eater you imbecile.

"Didn't see that coming, did you?" he bellowed.

"I was hoping for it, actually!" she countered, initiating a broomless dogfight as he chased after her through the woods and low winds.

When they breached a gate of clouds, reaching a breathtaking place where the stars were pristine, naked under their sight, they hung on air for a minute or three - gawking.

Thousand pearls shimmering, etched on a pitch black cloth.

Suddenly they were sitting on her loveast staring at the ceiling, this time there was no enchantment involved.

Just a clear, infinite nightsky.

Cesira swooped down towards the waters, Snape on her tail.

She thought he was going to crash into the lake as she merely skimmed the surface right before she could fall into it - he didn't.

A good flier too? How arrogant.

"Tired yet?" she mocked.

"You wish."

A death grip strangled her ankle, yanking her into his black cloud as they started spinning uncontrollably whilst they fought - she tried to free herself from his strong arms and he caged her for as long as he could, the woman was kicking him hard.

They rolled disastrously on the shore, certainly bruising one another as they tried to let the respective rival take all the pointy stones.

When they stopped he was above her, pinning her wrists down the damp grass.

Cesira felt his hitched breath spike her face - she had lost her eyepatch in the fall - his inky strands hanging from his head, casting a menacing shadow on his manly face.

His grip was lethal, if not unbearable.
Well, she faced worse things.

Cesira thrusted up her hips, relying on her legs strength to overturn the situation - he predicted that move.

She let out a dying breath when he tossed his whole weigh on her smaller body, her thighs uncomfortably divorced with his groin perfectly harboured between them.

"This position might suggest something else, Snape." she bantered, hissing as he tightened his grip.

He would crush her bones, and then she would make him beg for mercy.

"You," he spat through gritted teeth, his hooked nose brushing her face scar, his head moving to the blurred side of her sight. "vex me like no one else."

Cesira arched her neck as he unconsciously buried his groin deeper into her core.

"You are the catastrophe of my existence." he continued, his murderous charcolas now perfectly visible.

She loved the thrill of danger, thus she heaved her head and smacked her teeth, causing him to retreat his face.

"Honored to be so." she whispered impishly.

He scoffed, feeling his unbridled frustration flow south, his slacks growing tighter as he was basically dry humping on her to still her pathetic wiggling.

"Are you going to fight me or fuck me? Just so I know whether to call y-"

A cold blade came grazing her throat, a blade belonging to one of her daggers.

Shit, I'm sodden.

"Death turns you on, am I right?" he chided, pressing the sharp blade on her cheek - she was on the verge of bleeding.

"Give me a reason not to slice your throat and feed you to the creatures of the lake, I beg you." he growled, a faint trail of blood trickling down her face and painting her ear red.

Cesira managed to free her right wrist, stealing the second dagger laying at his side, pressing it to his clothed neck.

They bared their teeth in unison.

"You ain't got the nerve," she shredded his cravat, "because you're a coward".

She gave him a firm headbutt, blood flowing down his nose.
Taking advantage of the moment she overturned him, standing up with her fist closed and her dagger forward.

He slowly propped himself up, yanking both his cloak and his wand on the ground - so did she.

His hair covering his eyes, unreadable expression behind his black strands.
The only thing she could distinguish was a blood trail dripping from his sallow lips.

"I've never taught you how to fight with a knife," she prepared her stance as she eyed her dagger in his right hand, "allow me to fix that."

Snape swiftly dodged all her pounces, her pointy end often threatening to cut his jugular.

She was quick, sneaky, almost invisible, he was defensive and able to predict most of her sieges.

Numerous cuts on his frockcoat symbolized how he wasn't, in fact, unerring.

He managed to snake his forearm around her cleavage, choking her from behind as his free hand blocked her dagger from penetrating his side.

Cesira hoarsely gasped, biting down his black wool as his swollen bicep was crushing her throat.

"Give up, Blyde." he commanded, looking down at her as he pleased himself in seeing her struggle under his grip.

"I am stronger, admit it."

The foggy side started spreading to her clear one, lungs lifelessly thrumming as they cried out of lack of air, exhausted, bound to fail.

Cesira stopped biting his frock.

"Never."

She used her free arm to elbow him on his crotch as fiercely as she could, running after newfound air as he inwardly whimpered, weakening his chokehold on her.

She went for a kick square on his face, but he grasped her ankle with a devilish grin. Cesira smirked, using his steady hold to support her leap, kicking him hard on his chest with her other leg, causing him to fall down.

Cesira wasted no time in yielding both her daggers, sitting on his neck with her thighs choking him, blades pinning down his sleeves and his legs too far away to cause her any harm.

Her fair locks grazed his warped face, getting stained by his blood.

"You can't beat me, Snape. I have killed many of your kind this way, you know? You always rely on your magic more than you should."

She got off of him, hiding back her daggers and offering him her hand to stand up.

He obviously refused it, emerging in his towering frame once again.

"I suppose knives-fighiting isn't your forte, eh?" she mocked.

He donned his ruined cloak and slender wood, passing a hand through his hair as his harsh features glistened under the moonlight.

"Shut up before I hex you."

They healed each other, his boner still straining against his constriction.

Before Cesira could craft any salacious comment on it, a red feathered bird intruded on their little discussion.

"Fawkes?" questioned Snape, calming down the distraught Phoenix.

The bird left something on his hand, he brought it under the moon rays: it was an uneven stone.

"Well, useful I dare say." Cesira quipped.

Snape clenched his jaw. "Penny and I will trace its origin, clearly you're not the brain of this quest." he snapped softly, barely scratching her deadpan.

"We best be back now, follow me witch." he ordered, strutting with his arrogant gait.

Cesira, though, had one more thing to say.

"You're getting into the castle with a boner?"

Before she could process anything at all he was on her again, her back against a near tree as his hands rested at the sides of her head. His cloak was shredded on its ends, her cuts gave her a sneak peek of his firm abs.

"I would gladly impale you on this bark without any mercy Blyde," he pressed his stiff crotch on her lower belly, eliciting one of her delicious gasps.

"But why on Earth should I make it that easy?"

With that he stormed off, not caring if she was on his tail or not.

Cesira touched her throat, the ghost of his bicep pulsing on her jugular.

She was screwed.