"The key to your Patronus is focusing on your happiest memory and channeling those feelings through to your wand." Snape says, in his usual professor voice.
"What if you can't think of one?" you ask with a puzzled look on your face.
"You must." Snape says, in a straightforward manner. "It doesn't have to be a life defining moment, the feelings just have to be strong enough. Now, copy my movements. Expecto Patronum."
"Expecto Patronum" You repeat, awkwardly waving your wand.
"No, no. Like this." Snape says as he grabs your wand hand, moving your hand to the correct movement. You blush at his touch and can't pay attention to the motion as you're too focused on his grip and overwhelmingly attractive side profile.
"[y/n]!" He shouts. "Are you paying attention?" He scolds, annoyed.
"What?" you look up at him in a dazed smile, then you see the scowl on his face, and you focus again at your wand.
"Yes!" You try again. "Expecto Patronum." Nothing happens.
Snape rolls his eyes, but grins at your cute attempt. "You need a better memory." He says.
"Ugh, I agree wholeheartedly." You say, secretly scanning him with your eyes. He seems to get more attractive every single day.
"You'll have to do some soul searching if you really want this to work." He responds.
"Or... I should create some new happy memories." You say, shyly tucking your hair behind your ear.
Severus clears his throat. You've seemed to throw the esteemed professor off his game.
"Again." He instructs.
After about 20 tries, it seems impossible to think of a happy memory, especially when you're put on the spot. You close your eyes and try to think back to one freshest in your mind. Then it hits you. The white boots. You think of its silvery laces and fur cuffs, but most of all you think of Snape's note. Straightforward yet full of care; "Don't fall."
Suddenly, Snape lets out a surprised scoff as a flicker of silvery white light appears. You open your eyes before it fades. You gasp with excitement.
"Good work." Severus says as he smiles down at you. You beam with enthusiasm. "What did you think of?" he asks.
"Nothing..." You say as you grin.
He scoffs, matching a small grin on his face.
Patronus lessons with Severus become the highlight of your week, the thing you look forward to the most. You tell the twins that you're struggling in potions and that Snape is giving you extra work to make up for it. They groan, wanting you to spend the start of the weekend with them instead, but you make it up to them by sneaking off to the woods to smoke joints on Saturdays.
You know that forming a Patronus takes time and many never even get to a corporeal form, but this doesn't stop you from growing impatient. You start to think that maybe you haven't lived long enough to have a happy memory sufficiently strong to achieve it. It feels unfair, in a way, like there's a block in your brain. All you can think of is tragedy when asked to think about happiness. You pout at the thought of Severus having lived a whole life before you. Years of memories under his belt that he can draw on. This would always put him at an advantage. But even if you're no closer to forming your Patronus, time with Severus is time well spent. Your admiration for him gets stronger every day, and your biggest wish is that he could feel the same about you.
You're torturing yourself, hoping for something that will probably never come to fruition. Severus is beyond you. He needs a woman with age and experience, someone who's seen the world like he has. Someone who won't hold him back with her naivety and ignorance. Someone more patient than you, more mature than you, more... beautiful. You sigh. You'd be playing catch up your whole life trying to be on his level.
These thoughts swirl through your mind forming a pit in your stomach. So naturally, you decide to deal with them by getting drunk with the twins. Time to pull out that bottle of tequila you asked Nadine to get for you. You pass the bottle around, wishing you had salt and lime to do this properly. Linden talks about a German boy named Gregory in his History of Magic class and you and Nadine become judges as to whether or not he's gay based on their several interactions. Through swigs of tequila, you both come to the conclusion that he's either bi and leading Linden on or he's just super European. It doesn't help Linden to decide whether he'll ask him to the Yule ball next month or not.
You get unbelievably drunk, to the point where you forget curfew is a thing and instead of going back to your room after saying bye to the twins, you nonchalantly walk out into the halls of the dungeon. You hum to yourself as you sway side to side. You're not sure where you're going, but you just want some fresh air. You giggle to yourself, way too amused by your intoxication.
"You." A low voice stops you dead in your tracks. "Where do you think you're going at this hour?" Your eyes widen as you turn around, trying to act sober, but failing miserably.
It's Professor Snape. You recognize, as your heart lights up.
"Severus!" You're so drunk, you call him by his first name. You stumble towards him.
You beam up at him as you push your hair back from your face, swaying playfully in place.
"What are you doing out past curfew, [l/n]?" he scolds, sternness stricken on his face.
You giggle. "You're so cute... when you're mad... which is like... all the time!" you laugh, playfully, slurring your words.
"Are you drunk!?" He barks.
You scoff, jokingly. "Whaaat? I'm like... cone stold sober..." you say, shortly bursting into laughter at your bad lie.
"That's it. You're coming with me." He spits, grabbing your arm.
You tease. "Have I been bad?" you say, looking up at him with sad puppy dog eyes as you drag behind him like a ragdoll. Snape almost grins at you, but he remains serious as he pulls you down the hall and into his office.
You giggle as you stumble into the room. He can see you better now in the light. Your cheeks are flushed red as you slightly hiccup.
"Ugh I'm so hot!" you whine as you fight off your jacket and unbutton your dress shirt. Severus quickly rushes to grab your hands stopping you from unbuttoning any lower. You meet his eyes and you silently stare at each other for a moment. You burst into laughter.
Severus lets go in frustration and rushes behind his desk. "You're in a world of troub—"
"Wait!" you exclaim, louder than you probably should have. "I have a question!" you snicker.
Severus groans.
"Why do your browsss always look like that?" you laugh, gesturing to your eyebrows and jokingly mimicking his furrowed brows and his stern expression. He stares at you, crossed.
You cackle, bubbling with amusement. He shakes his head in disapproval, and it somehow makes it even funnier for you. He walks towards the back, a grin creeping up on his mouth as he stops himself from joining you in laughter. He fixes his face as he turns back, bringing you a glass of water.
You're still laughing so hard, to the point of silent hiccups and tears streaming from your eyes. You bury your face in your hands, embarrassed you can't stop laughing and that you're now crying at the same time.
"Drink this and sober up." He demands, putting the glass of water in front of you.
You sit on the other side of his desk, trying your best to regain composure. Your face is red and wet as you pull your hands away. You grip the glass with two hands and drink, trying to calm down. Quick, think of sad things. Homeless puppies, car crashes, war.
You straighten and look towards Snape, expecting to see him fuming. But instead his back is turned and he's putting on a record. Soft jazz starts to play as he turns back towards you. You know this song, your mom used to sing it to you: DESAFINADO sung by Ella Fitzgerald.
You sing along to the track; the lyrics flow easily from you, like it's engrained into your memory.
Love is like a never ending melody,
Poets have compared it to a symphony,
A symphony conducted by the lighting of the moon,
But our song of love is slightly out of tune...
You look up at Severus, playfully joyous. Severus is taken aback and watches you in awe as you sing. He didn't expect you to know this song, let alone have such a beautiful singing voice. You smile at him. You stand and jump towards him, grabbing his hand as you spin. You sway in front of him, urging him to dance with you.
Once your kisses raised me to a fever pitch,
Now the orchestration doesn't seem so rich!
Seems to me you've changed the tune we used to sing;
Like the bossa nova, love should swing!
He stoically watches you as you let go of his hand to flit about the room, singing, as if you're in a musical. You reach your hand out to him, wanting him to join you. He reluctantly walks toward you. You sing to him.
Tune your heart to mine the way it used to be,
Join with me in harmony and sing a song of loving.
You pull him close, your hand on his shoulder. His eyes grow wide at your drunken confidence. You rest your head on his chest as you take in the moment. You wish you could stay here forever, breathing in his scent, swaying to the music.
The song fades to quiet crackles from the record player, your head still laying on Severus's chest. A serene moment passes with both of you standing in the quiet of the room.
"I like you, Snape." You whisper in his ear, smiling. Your hot breath sends flutters through his body, your sweet smell, intoxicating. You softly lean your hand against his chest and run your way to his neck and the back of head, his soft black hair nestled between your fingers. You push off his chest to look up at him. You expect him to have his usual stern expression or to be mad even, but he meets your gaze, eyes drifting to your lips. He hesitantly puts a hand around you, barely touching your waist. Your gaze softens as you're trapped in his pull, the world around you a blur with only him in focus. Your eyes softly close as you get closer and closer...
Suddenly, you pull away. A sick feeling creeping up your throat. You run to the nearest trashcan and hurl. You swear in this moment, you'll never drink again.
You hear Snape make a noise. You're not sure if it was a laugh or a groan, but he goes behind you and holds back your hair. You'd be dying from embarrassment if you weren't vomiting your guts out. A number pops up in your brain. Eight fucking swigs of tequila, are you insane? You end up passing out on the couch in his office, your hair disheveled as you twist and turn. Severus scoffs under his breath in disbelief, his expression lovingly annoyed with you. He lays a blanket on you and turns out the lights.
You're lucky it's Friday.