warnings: cursing, dry humping, again duh
word count: 4028

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"AHHHHHHHH!" Cesira shoved a shredded scream off her lungs, the ever incandescending feeling of rage stiffening her veins and numbing her blood.

She slipped against the abandoned bathroom's wall, her fury quickly mingling with salty tears she tried to neutralize as though one does to drive away a pesky beetle on summer days.

"Where did the Gryffinclaw go to?"

"Probably to lick Flitwick's boots to grant her entrance to the restricted section!"

Distant, noisy voices boomed, igniting every scream yet to free out of its wrapper of flesh and nerves all over again.

An external force urged her body to rebuild tall bone after bone, she could almost feel someone else inside her motioning her actions to grab her aspen and release havoc in the corridor.

Cesira let out a wisp of exhaustion, peeping at the Ravenclaw coat of armor perfectly knitted above her heart squeezed in alienation from her house. What more could she do to make them accept her? She gave up on extra flying lessons to get a grip on potions - the one dreadful subject she never loved nor comprehended - or runes just like everybody else but she wasn't everybody else! She was a chipped cup in a newly bought tea set.
How many spins should she make to keep them looking at her?

"Why did you sort me here you crusty hat," she whispered, eyes wide shut, hands skin blankets over her warped face.

"It never makes mistakes." a young, older male voice rose from a dark corner in the silent room.

Cesira scoffed. "Who are you to be so sure of that?"

"Nobody." he replied sternly.

She nodded.

"I know who you are, how Professor Flitwick chose you as his personal apprentice at such a young age to feel entitled to tutor senior students. People are afraid of you." the voice drawled in venomous disgust.

Cesira waved away his words, fidgeting with her wand. Although her Head of house proclaimed her as perfectly fitting to take up his pupil's role, nothing he could ever do would prevent some of her peers to pick on her marked difference with every other raven.

"I can't afford to be angry, nor impulsive. My future is worth more than temporary thirst for revenge. I must be better than them." she pointed out, hating anger with every ounce of her soul - she always thought of it to be the one emotion she didn't want to feel longer than needed throughout her life.

He hummed. "Or become worse than they could ever imagine."

Cesira furrowed. "I see, a Slytherin."

"Clever, a common trait one can find in a certain house." his condescending tone clenched her jaw.

"Are you trying to comfort me?"

He chuckled lowly. "I am not, in fact, I wasn't even talking. You just acknowledged my thoughts I thrusted into your head. Ask Flitwick to enlight you on Occlumency, one never knows who can read minds."

She stood up and got a mere glimpse of a uniform billowing out of the bathroom, leaving her alone.

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Cesira crashed the surface of reality again, emerging from her personal teensy Pensieve secluded from strangers sight in her own bedroom.

Every night she would take a trip down memory lane, replaying footsteps on each stepping stone of her past, tripping on the ones where she went wrong.

The one memory she had not witnessed was that night - she wanted to, truly, aware of the shattering pain it yielded but... somewhere in her heart told her not to even try. To keep the memory as it was, alive and burning with blurred edges.

She silently donned her robes, heading for breakfast of a day weighing above her head à la sword of Damocles. She would not look up until next dawn.

"Is your house ready for tomorrow my dear?" Minnie gently squeezed her shoulder, training her watchful eyes on her to make sure she ate everything in a slow chew.

Cesira shot a look at her poults, receiving toothy smiles and encouraging nods as they knew more than everyone how hard she had worked to ensure every aspect of the Celestial Banquet was perfectly capable of performing.

"We're born ready."

She spent a whole week away from Snape and Penny due to strict reharsals concerning anything: deciding the menu, choreographing the spell-shows and redesigning the common room brand new to house decorations of astounding sorts.

Their dueling show? He had challenged her to leave it to improvisation - inquiring he would cast a dark blotch on her grand show that would reaffirm Slytherin's title of best hosting house.

Needless to suggest her answer to that.

Her club was doing splendidly, Erika was taking her team on a safe sailing to winning seas, Minerva had just granted her the title of Dueling Mistress co-signed by the prime minister in person, never doubting Albus would have done the very same, her students adored her so...

So why the need to cry all the time? To tear her hair out and scream until wounding her throat and spilling blood from her lungs?

Why doing the thing she was best at was the thing that hurt the most?

A skilled, confident, succesful witch harbouring an empty house seldom inhabited by winds of guilt and bitter.

Oh, at last she could sing Christmas songs to cheer everyone but her.

Being a mother for every lonely motherfucker but herself.

Her brain knew why, and it would never tell. Perhaps, deep down she knew too, but could never say.

"Your walls are surprisingly thick today Professor Blyde," intruded his insolent drawl at her side.

She inwardly grunted and turned around, her features softened at the sight of his young apprentice on his tail.

Penny frowned. "I told you you look stunning without your bandage, there is-"

"Beauty in being open, I know Penny. I'm sorry, it's an habit." she merely grinned and vanished her eyepatch, letting her split-coloured eye pop free.

Severus and Penny exchanged one of their looks, returning their opposite gazes to the witch - his were glacial charcoals, hers were warm ponds.

"I think you'll scare dunderheads that way," he paused as if pondering on his own words, coming back grimacing. "then again, who am I to deny such pleasure?"

Penny rolled her eyes, massaging her temples - his endless snark never ceased to trouble her. Especially when he crafted eloquent reproaches on her own friends still belonging to the student body just to piss her off.

"Do pray tell, where are you two crazy alchemists going to take me this time?"

When they were together in her proximity it meant menacing news on their quest, thus added worry for an overwhelming day like this - she could already sense her mangled nerves straining.

Snape quirked an eyebrow at her nicknaming them. "My, your memory game is alarmingly crumbling down to embers Blyde, are you really in your mid-twenties?"

Cesira softly closed her eyes, prying them open at once before Morpheus could kidnap her corpse thwarting a smothering slumber she shoved down daily for the sake of performing.

There it was again, their exchanged look.

"We have reversed classes today Cesira, best dust off your school uniform!" Penny squirmed on her feet at the thought of her favourite day when she used to be a common Hufflepuff girl.

In short, the best student of each course had to lecture their very teachers on a chosen subject to grant their house a hundred and fifty delicious points, as well as exemption from holidays' workload.

To make things feel more... real, teachers had to don their old school robes and dutifully act as ignorant students eager to learn, asking questions they knew the answers to and, sometimes, causing trouble in the classroom to test the student's authoritarian abilities.

Snape always begged to spare the uniform part - he was perpetually unsuccesful.

Cesira beamed at the perspective of unleashing her troublemaker skills she diligently swallowed when attending her own classes.

Hell, she would have made a perfect Weasley twin. Fred and George taught her a lot of ways to cause trouble when everyone brought them to her for detention, as she seemed to be the only one to stand their banters.

"I cannot wait to see you in your uniform Snape." she winked, he groaned.

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"Is it that hideous Penny?" Cesira whispered as the damp air of the dungeons curdled their bodies wrapped under a blue and a yellow wizarding uniform.

Donning her Ravenclaw robes after all those years felt like being etched with a second skin, a good friend long time no see. Funny how a piece of clothing reminded her of specific places and smells.

Penny covered her mouth, jowls flushed. "Oh not at all Cesira, he's charming!"

Penny got asked - no, ordered by her tutor to assist him with his uniform, making her solemnly swear to be honest about his looks and judge if he carried himself as dramatically regal as when with his teaching robes on.

His doors flunged open, crying at the hinges, revealing the man of the moment standing tall, his uniform - the same as theirs - perfectly fitting him.

Cesira could sense his shirt and sweater were a bit tight around his buff upper body - thanks to her training - albeit the green robes hid any discomfort.

It suited him just like his dungeon bat clothes, yet the way silky green reflected on his paling complexion could flutter any stomach round the castle. He scoffed impatiently at the two witches gawking at him.

"Well? Do I have to fetch Filch for a feedback or are you two dimwits so subdued by your hormones to have lost sense of the English language at all?" he scolded them with his teacher voice - it was actually hilarious to witness: a professor in school robes reprimanding his colleagues.

Cesira lightly elbowed Penny and viceversa, tying their slacked jaws to their upper teeth.

"You look... very Slytherin." she was the first to avert her eyes from hungrily drinking in the hypnotizing effect green had on this arse of a man.

"Eloquently put Blyde, as always nonetheless." he spat, breaching through them to storm out and lead the way, his signature billow still going strong, although not as much as in width.

"I want to sit next to him." she whispered to Penny, who squinted.

"I am his assistant, not a chance." she countered.

Cesira restrained herself from firing back with an unmatchable "he wanted to impale me against a tree", letting her have it.

Obviously they weren't that engulfed by his new attire - at least Penny wasn't -, they simply loved being called silly girls with unresting teenagerly hormones in addition to unprofessional, childish geese.

"Oh, why did you stop? Keep 'em going!" Cesira pushed his buttons when he stopped serving insults, dragging a giggling Penny away from his reach before he could reach level ten of frustration, after which came level one of anger - it meant death, on the spot.

They entered their first class, which was the tiring History of Magic.

Penny smirked, taking a first row seat beside Snape who was fuming at the appreciative comments other staff made about his fit.

Cesira rolled her eyes, sitting third row with Minerva, who was wearing school robes slightly different from hers.

"You still got it, Minnie," she smiled, hiding a laugh when the elder witch softly jabbed her shoulder.

"Shush young lady, and pay attention."

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"You need to stop bombing them with questions Snape, they hardly got to talk!" growled Cesira.

"Why would I ever listen to you, witch?" countered Snape.

"Severus! Be a gentleman." reprimanded Minerva, passing by as the teachers turned students were casually strolling down the corridors to head for another class.

He hated the look dunderheads had on their stupid faces whilst snickering and whispering about the staff ridiculously parading. Cesira and Penny thrived in their uniforms, high fiving peers and even playing with them. He pursed his lips at the sight of that grown bird snaking her arm around someone's neck to scruff their hair as his assistant mirthfully laughed.

She digusted him. They both did.

Next, and finally last lesson was Potions. Merlin, she loathed the subject: too boring, little magic involved, a lot of waiting - it didn't suit her at all. Charms would always own her academic heart.

The lot hurled against the heavy door, Cesira immediately pushed Snape aside to be the one to open it.

"Who's this one?" she asked, ignoring his murderous charcoals.

"Miss Hatch." Cesira smirked smugly.

"I see, not a green uh? Your blood must be boiling."

He lowly grunted, Minerva launched a warning glare at her not to venture his bad side further, if only she knew about them knife-fighting each other on the shore.

She was far beyond his bad side, she stood in a distant duskland only a few Gryffindors gained entry to.

Erika hid her beam at the sight of her Head of house, standing proudly in front of the bat's desk.

Cesira secretly winked at her, joining her best classmate so far - Minerva and her had their best time ever sharing the same desk. She would whisper teen dramas, Minnie would contain a chuckle, elbowing her former student. One iconic time, during Charms, Snape was going too far in questioning their teacher that Minerva tossed a "Let the lad speak for Merlin's sake!" followed by Cesira's "You should really take points from Slytherin, Professor!"

He had succesfully ignored the both of them until now, finding Penny to be his best classmate yet - quiet, respectful, cooperative.

Anything but their devilish duo.

Erika was representing all her peers' dream of giving their first ranked ship a go, she basically had to swear in the Great Hall to make Cesira Blyde and Severus Snape interact.

"Miss Blyde, could you please sit with Mr. Snape?"

Cesira shot a defying look at her face, faintly shaking her head in denial - of course, the girl arched an eyebrow with admirable authority, daring her to say no.

Oh well, anything to favor her poults.

"Fine."

Cesira reluctantly let go of Minnie's company, joining her nemesis last row, rolling their eyes in unison.

Erika begun lecturing them on Amortentia - of course she would choose that out of every potion - resembling too much of him for her own liking, although she was actually proud to see her favorite succeed.

"Won't you ask her something?" she looked up at him as they were now standing to start brewing, she peeped at the worn out book he was using.

"There is no need, for now." he drawled emotionlessly.

'This book is property of the Half-Blood Prince."

Lots of inky notes, drawings, corrections - it reminded her old Charms book where she used to write down spells, jinxes and hexes she personally crafted. She fondly remembered when Francis called her 'lion-eagle dame' to substitute the much hated 'feathered cub' or 'Gryffinclaw' everybody would throw at her. So much that she marked the book writing 'belonging to the lion-eagle dame' on the first page.

He had a noble nickname too, quite imposing as the man it belonged to.

"Miss Blyde, are you paying attention?" Erika was standing right in front of their desk, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Snape grinned inwardly, continuing his perfect brewing.

He didn't want to ruin his old robes, thus he was in his shirt and jumper, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as his faded mark wasn't even spottable in the dim light of his class. He could see his classmate's eyes sneakily glimpsing at his corded forearms.

"Yes, Professor Hatch."

"What ingredients do you need to brew this dangerous potion?"

I will get my revenge on the Quidditch pitch young lady.

Best believe she was really bad at potions, to the point she almost failed her NEWTS because of those damned vials and concoctions. Mind, she equally gave her sweat and sleepless nights to gain good grades, all she did was try, try and try - it wasn't her cup of tea, at all. No matter how hard she practiced, her grades placidly relaxed between passable and mediocre.

"Ashwinder eggs, rose thorns and... perhaps snake fangs?" she spotted Penny paling a few rows ahead, briskly shaking her head.

Erika sighed, pursing her lips.

"Mr. Snape, would you help your classmate please?"

He rolled his eyes and challenged the student to reproach him with one of his unbearable stares, making Erika feel smaller.

"Fine."

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"Stop abusing that pearl dust Blyde, you're a menace." he was exhasperated at her ignorance on the finest of arts.

Cesira crossed her arms, admitting her forfeit. He quirked an eyebrow, his cauldron was softly simmering on a low fire, finished.

"My, is our fierce war hero and dueling champion - if not Mistress and Head of Ravenclaw house perhaps... giving up?" he mocked in a grimace, eyeing her exposed forearms stacked with whitening scars.

Cesira had noticed some long, slender lines on his hairy arms too.

"Never." she countered, combing her locks in a messy bun with few strands framing her sharp, almost masculine edges.

"Our teacher told you to help me Snape, should I reveal to the class how you went on with your work without even glancing at me? She'll take house points at best, brace yourself!"

Cesira motioned her arm to shot up to call the teacher's attention, yet his cold hand locked her limb down.

"No need to, Blyde." he pinched his hooked nose, pondering for an excruciating time. He got behind her, Erika smirked to herself whilst praising Minerva.

"Follow my lead and don't even start to think about giving me back talk." his baritone closed its jaws on her throat and lower stomach, she felt like a puppet willing to bark at his whistle. The silky, snake tongue.

His lips were at her eye level, his arms draped above hers to move her arms at his will, showing her firsthand where to cut, squeeze, slice, press. His precision and dedication penetrated her flesh, trying to share a bit of his natural talent with her reluctant spirit in matters of cauldrons and sorts.

They had tried to maintain some safe space between her back and his front - in vain; midway through the process his torso was profoundly brushing her sweater-less shirt, she could feel his rock abs twitching and flexing, he could feel her toned back muscles massaging his chest.

"Soften your grip Blyde, you put too much anger in what you do," he whispered, his larger hand covering hers, applying delicate pressure to relax her white knuckles.

His soothing voice did the trick, her eyelids fluttered as the brewing motion slowed down.

"That's it" he purred, ravishing her insides so violently she could vomit her heart out inside the cauldron.

Cesira felt the ghost of his bulge humping into her most delicate spot as he pressed a dagger on her throat, yielding the strings of her life and threatening to rip them apart.

"Better your walls woman, you wouldn't want lecherous thoughts get in the way of your work," he had her hipbones pressed to the wooden desk, his groin anchoring her from behind.

Thank God we're last row.

"Shall we see if you're good on your own now? Let's hope you don't get distracted this time." he grimaced, doing exactly what was possessing her mind as he rested his hands on the desk, looming from her shoulder.

Cesira took in his challenge, mastering her head to focus on brewing rather than his very alive body forbidding hers to forget his presence.

He loathed physical touch more than her, yet there he was: fighting a hard on just to get her to fail and feast on the likeable scolding her own student would give her.

The things a Slytherin does to see a Ravenclaw falter.

"Would you stop pressing your boner on my back? I'm almost finished." she carefully hissed in a mere whisper, vibrating with his own chuckle.

She just knew he was grazing his canine.

"Oh, but I don't have one." she drowned in a red blush, thinking whatever she was feeling would be a hard on from the undeniable presence of it.

She stomped on his loafer, his body stiffened.

"Then go back to your potion, snake." she pressed her heel harder, grinning smugly once his overwhelming essence vanished and appeared at her side.

In the end, Penny and Severus brewed the best potions - obviously - whilst Cesira miracolously passed thanks to his help, not his abs.

"Would you smell it?" Erika had the last bit to run, handing the heart-shaped vial to the last row couple. The gossiping was to be unstoppable.

Snape sneered. "No."

Cesira rolled her eyes. "Coward," she took the vial and sniffed it, barely smelling a disntinguishable scent.

"It smells of... nothingness. I smell nothing." Erika hid her disappointment and sympathy, knowing Amortentia to restrain its powers from those who are undeserving of love.

Snape barely sealed his lips, focusing his deadpan on the witch - much like everyone was doing.

Cesira frowned, feeling utterly big.

"What? Aren't we going to praise our student instead of staring at me?"

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"Are they kissing?"

"Not yet."

"I am going to make them if they don't at once."

"Penny you're crushing me!"

"Stop whining Blyde or we'll get caught, I don't want to lose my bet and endure Minerva's smug for months."

The trio was hurled behind a corner, peeking at two enamoured students the staff placed bets on during their informal meetings. They had bet on a lot worse than teenage drama, and Minerva always got to take all the gold.

Cesira, Severus and Penny decided to team up against her unbeaten monopoly. Not that he actually found betting on dunderheads amusing, he solely craved crushing his lifelong opponent in every field.

"Your snake is impossibly cringe Snape, I'd suggest you have 'the talk' with your boys on functioning around ladies."

"Silence!" he hissed through gritted teeth, pulling the witches back when their students whipped their heads at the sound he made.

They both looked up at him, throwing imaginary daggers for almost giving away their shelter. He towered over them, Penny immediately looked at his shoes whereas Cesira raised her chin.

"I am starting to wonder if you women casted the Imperio curse on me to find myself hanging out with you devils every bloody time I step out of my chambers." he drawled, contempt tasting sweet on his tongue.

Cesira smirked. "Aren't you a blessed man?"

He bared his teeth. "Thank your lucky stars I am a gentleman."

Penny regained sense of herself, showing the cheek she never dared to expose around him. But she knew that Cesira would never let him unleash his empty threats on her was she to betray her own character.

"This is you being gentle?"

He flared his nostrils, slightly surprised to hear her talk at all when he was intimidating her.

"Uh-uh, don't threaten my Penny batman." Cesira stepped in, giving him her icy look stained with a taint of blood.

He shook his head, grunting. "Why am I even talking to you?"

He stormed off, scaring the shit out of the students who immediately separated a feather away from kissing.

The witches scoffed, throwing their arms in the air.

"Oh he's got to be kidding."

"I can't stand that man!"

"One of these days I'm going to strangle him for good."

But they started to wonder if someone had casted an Imperio curse on them to be spending majority of their time with that grumpy wizard.

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Cesira was welcoming every single guest emerging from the stairs to enter the Ravenclaw's common room, smiling or shaking hands with her colleagues.

First came the Gryffindors, then the Hufflepuffs - Penny hugged her tightly, the remaining staff and finally, the Slytherins.

When the last green had gotten past the threshold her heart leaped in thrilling expectation.

For him? Am I really that eager to see him?

A tall shadow emerged from the stairs. Her smile faded, he froze in his steps.

Time stopped, and everything ceased to exist.

"Severus."

"Cesira."