The Exposure

Chapter Thirty-Seven

          You absentmindedly reply, "More than anything..." clutching your amulet. You realize she meant Peter and you sit up straight, clearing your throat. You see the girls' faces, their eyes wide with surprise and glee, leaning in to hear more. You think back to your break, your heart stinging at the thought of not feeling that for another five months. "Well? Tell us more! What was it like? Did you sleep together every day? Did you make him breakfast? What gifts did you get each other?" They ask all at once, bombarding you with questions. "Um...we did," you blush, telling the truth. "I didn't...he made me breakfast, actually," you say with a small smile. Their eyes widen, "Y/N! You have to marry him." Your cheeks burn red, wanting to change the subject but also relishing the reaction from the girls, realizing what a wonderful man Severus is and how lucky you are to have his love.

          You ask them about each of their holidays, your mind wandering back to your time with Severus...the flex of his arms when he swung the axe. The breakfast he made you...the pleasure he gave you. You twirl your hair inattentively and you suddenly hear, "What a naughty little girl...thinking of such lewdness at school?"  Your head snaps up to the teacher's table and you see Severus has taken his seat, watching you with a sexy smirk. Your heart thuds at his eye contact, amazed how he can make you feel like it's only the two of you in a sea of people. I...can't help it, Professor...

          He chuckles, "Yes, you can...do as I taught you. Close the doors..." You walk through the halls of your mind, struggling to close the doors. You want nothing more than to leave them open to him...but he's watching and waiting and you want to obey him. You reluctantly close them all, clutching the key and dropping it in your pocket. Your eyes find his again and he gives you a gentle smile and a little nod. Your throat tightens.

          You try to stay present in your friends' conversation, focusing hard on Amy's story of sledding down a sandy bank during her family's beachside holiday. Sandcastles shaped like igloos. Sandmen...hands shaping the sand. Large, strong hands...the hands of a man stooping down into the sand, guiding and shaping the sand and molding it into the shape he wants...gentle but firm. A tall, dark-haired man...your heart races as your eyes flit up to his, watching you sternly again, and you quickly run to lock the doors once more.

          This is going to be more difficult than you thought.

          The following weeks, your classes seem to drag on endlessly. Just last week you nearly lit a student on fire in DADA class, so distracted and numb that you were careless with your spells. Then Transfiguration class yesterday was a near giveaway. When instructed to transfigure a stone into your favorite dessert, you transfigured it into a tiny stone statue of Professor Snape. Professor McGonagall quickly reversed the transfiguration before too much attention was drawn to it, a shrewd look in her eye.

          You see him in the halls, at dinner, in class...and he does not hold your gaze for much more than a couple of seconds. He quickly looks away when your eyes linger too long, and it sucks. You ache to feel his affections again, but neither of you can trust yourselves to even have a conversation without giving yourselves away, so you keep it to polite nods and "good afternoons." Even those feel significant to you.

          The past few days when you pass him, you force yourself not to look, because you know watching his eyes look coldly away from you will only hurt more. You avoid his eyes and keep your head down when he passes. The doors in your hallway are bolted shut. You spend more nights crying than you wish to admit. He had told you it wouldn't be like you were separating...but it feels like a breakup to you. All you can think of is your conversations by the fireplace, his kisses on your face, his gentle touch...the way he says your name.