Liar, Liar

25: Featherfoot

I was awoken to three sharp raps on the door and Snape telling me it was time to go. I rose out of bed with a grumble, pulling on a comfortable sweater along with a pair of loose jeans.

I slipped on the dirty converse that I came here with and made my bed.

Snape was waiting in the living room, his cloak fastened around his shoulders. He held out a blueberry scone to me, shuffling his feet as I tried it.

"It's good, Sir," I nodded, and indeed it was.

"I made it," Snape stated.

"Thank you," I replied.

"We will be leaving now. Hold on to my arm," he instructed as I ate the last of my scone.

Obliging, I gently took his arm in mine, and we disapparated with a whoosh.

The air was salty, and it was the first thing I noticed as we landed. As my eyesight returned, I took in the scene.

We stood on the bank of a big stretch of water, our feet buried in black sand. The area was enclosed by looming mountains. Snow dusted the tops of the mountains. A permanent sort of fog loomed all around us.

Snape steadied me with his hand as I shivered from the cold. We have to be fairly up north for the weather to have changed so drastically.

"Is he meeting us here?" I whispered into the wind, tripping over a mound of sand.

Snape reached his arm around my lower back to steady me, keeping his hand there as we walked.

"Don't fall," he warned, and I could have sworn he pulled me closer.

We walked along the bank for about a mile, coming up to a cave in the side of the mountain. Stalagmites and stalactites glittered throughout the cave, and Snape hurried me into the cave.

We waited a few feet from the entrance, me looking around anxiously while Snape stared straight forward.

Suddenly, with a whirl of commotion, a man appeared in front of us. He shook himself off, running his hands through his hair.

Was this Featherfoot? He was nothing like I had anticipated.

Featherfoot was about twenty in age, with light sandy hair. It was messy from the apparition, and he had fixed it back to its wavy form. He stood about six feet tall, and a crooked smile was fixed onto his face.

My lips parted slowly as I took him in. He wasn't bad looking, as a matter of fact. I tried to hide the slight blush upon my face.

"Hello, Severus," Featherfoot greeted Snape, turning to me. "Hello, Miss. Zelle, right?" He asked.

"Yeah," I smiled, holding my hand out for him to shake it. "I'm Zelle. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiled. "You are as beautiful as I've heard."

His comment caught me off guard, and I blushed brighter red.

Snape took a step forward. "Perhaps we better get a move on. It is unwise to sit out here exposed."

Featherfoot nodded, his cheeky grin disappearing from his face. "Very true. Follow me."

We followed Featherfoot into the cave, and Snape's hand returned to my lower back, keeping me steady, although the terrain was easy to navigate.

I found that I rather liked his touch.

We walked further into the cave, Featherfoot leading the way, his wand lit. Snape constantly scanned the area, his wand out as well, but not as a source of light. It was out to keep us safe, in case he had to defend us.