Red and Green (Snarry)

Fall for the Fallen

"Think about it Severus. You are really the winner of this battle." I blink and he leaves. I am constantly dumbfounded by his words. His words that read my mind. I think he's psychic; or has been getting lessons from Trelawney. No that can't be right. She's always wrong.

I sit back in my chair and let out a deep, suppressed-yet-needed-to-be-released sigh. I feel as I was a teenager lost in a situation I didn't know how to get out of. But I'm a thirty seven year old man with a life as a Potions Master and thousands of students to torture. It's all so odd how I feel right now. I can't stop my fingers as they graze over the book Potter bought me.

And suddenly it hits me.

I don't want to call him Potter anymore.

"Professor, may I come in?" A small voice asks. My eyes leer up to the door. I know who it is, Potter. And I want him. But I have to put up my shield again. To be safe, and not to fall again. I can't fall again.

"You may be enter." I say softly, but loud enough for him to hear. The door opens, swinging from it's close potion, and a boy with bright green eyes walks in. His cloak nestled around his forms, books in his arms. Innocent. Charming. Sweet. His eyes tell it all.

And I fall again.

"I just want to know how I can make up today's lesson." Potter says as he walks closer to my desk. I try not to gap, but I could always come up with a good reason for gapping. I wasn't an idiot like that Longbottom boy. My fingers drop my quill to the parchment I was writing on and my eyes graze over his form once more before realizing the fact that he was otter. My worst enemy.

"Like I said in class." I murmur, picking up my quill and begin writing again.

I hope he doesn't know I'm writing 'Merlin' over and over.

"How many inches was it, sir?" He asks. I know he knows the answer as I look up at him. He just wants to talk to me. And as soon as he finished his questions, a part of me felt complete. Like he wanted to stay. Like he wanted to be near me. As if he wanted to play chess with me. And let me use the white pieces. But, it hits me as I sit there a close the line between my lips shut tight; he doesn't want to be there. He couldn't possibly.

"Seventy." I say coldly. My eyes lock with his. He could see through my voice. My shield. He saw me.

"Want to play some chess?" He asks, looking up with those bold eyes. Merlin, those butterfly things hit the pit of my stomach. I feel empty. I feel full. My stomach churns as if it's on fire but dancing with ice. My gut swallowed with the sun but rising with the moon. Twisting in knots only to be combed by Potter's voice. My face left shocked by revived with Potter's eyes. They do tell it all.

I admit it. I care. Badly.

I nod and stand up, giving off a soft sigh, trying to building up my cracked and broken shield. My hands diligently pick up my chessboard and wander over to one of the many desks in the class, sitting down in one of the chairs that students sat in. But when I had Double Potions with Slytherin and Gryffindor; it was Potter's chair. As soon as my body hits the wooden chair, I go numb. I feel his presence among the chair for the last six years trace over me.

"You take white." He says softly and takes the black pieces. He gives to me again. I need someway to repay him; for a fair trade.

But the trading line has been passed whiles ago. With the Christmas present. With the book. With he forty-one games of chess and the half cups of tea. There was no longer a need of being fair and sharing equally. We didn't need to call the lines or fire the shots; we knew where we stood. Potter and me were friends.

And we played. I had the white pieces and he had the black pieces.

"Professor?" He asks as he makes his move. I wish I knew what he was feeling. What he was thinking. All pushed back in that mind of his. I want to know, I need to. But I'm too scared to ask.

"Yes, Potter?" I say before making my move, taking his knight. He grins as I do. The games are like pictures being taken. They always change but never forget to keep their innocence. His fingers make another move to take my pawn. I grin at him. And he blushes back. We never have to do the same thing, for we know what each other mean.

"Professor." He says even softer then the first time. My heart drops down as waiting for Potter to rescue it back up. I watch him carefully; forgetting about the chess board. The white pieces. The potions. Everything. I wait for the question that his eyes seem to be fondling with either asking me or not. I try to encourage him, my eyes opening boldly to him. I want to shake off the black color of them; and show him the light of my emotions.

But I can't. I'm merely a Professor to him.

"Thank you for today." He mutters quietly, looking back at the chessboard. I'm not sure if I feel heartbroken or happy. I look at him questionably before making my move. I only nod; whether or not he sees it, I could honestly care less. I was wrong. I didn't care at all for the boy. It was just the damned parental feeling that I had when I saw how the boy needed help. He didn't have parents so I felt that I had to foster him.

It was foolish of me thinking that I could have fallen for this ridiculous and immature boy.

To be continued..