Ophelia coughed and sat up, rubbing her eyes with her hands. She squinted, dry mouth sticky with thick saliva.
Oh my god, she thought, I'm dead.
She licked her lips, trying to swallow. The moon shone brightly in her eyes, leaving her feeling dizzy. She put her hands down to support herself as she took in her surroundings. She was still two blocks from her house, where she'd taken a rest earlier that night. The grass felt rough between her fingers and she definitely thought that if she wasn't dead, she probably should be.
"Miss Delisle?"
The voice startled her and she quickly whipped her head around.
Ophelia gasped, "God, Snape, what are you doing here?"
"Perhaps it is me who should be asking you that question," Snape crossed his arms over his chest, "you are, after all, on my property again."
"Ah," Ophelia breathed, laying back down and looking up at the sky, "of course I am."
"What exactly are you doing?" He asked as he looked down on her.
"Oh, just.. watching the stars," she said, looking past him at the night sky.
Snape bent down, his knees touching her head as he bent slightly forward.
"Are you sick?" He frowned.
She laughed, shaking her head, "you're silly."
"And you're drunk."
"Ah, yes, your perceptive skills never cease to amaze me, Professor."
She smiled and pushed herself up on her elbows, bringing their faces closer together. And as they were opposite each other, her eyes came to the same level as his mouth, and she couldn't help but stare at his lips.
"Let me ask you a question, Snape," she said and looked him in the eyes.
He stared at her silently as she licked her lips. The action ignited a frisson of excitement inside of him.
"Aren't you ever going to kiss me?" She asked, voice full of sin and he shivered as her breath tickled his skin.
"No," he breathed.
"And why is that?" She asked, moving closer until he could feel her brush her lips against his.
"Stop," he grabbed her gently at the base of her neck, pushing her down, "you're drunk, little girl, you don't know what you're doing."
"I'm not, I know exactly what I'm doing. Do you?"
He eyed her carefully, her defenses were down and he could see into her soul. He swallowed thickly.
"If I kiss you now, and you regret it-"
She shook her head and whispered, "I won't ever regret a single moment with you."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to believe she meant it. Because all his life Severus had thought that if he were to meet someone, she would be like him. He assumed she would take her coffee black and frown upon social gatherings. He assumed she would wear thin clothing in the winter, because she's learned to live with the cold. He assumed she would have the natural instinct to be bitter. But Ophelia drinks her tea with milk. She likes big crowds, and shivers when it's cold, and all she wants is to feel happy.
And she would probably never love him.
"No, Ophelia," he paused and adjusted his gaze from her lips to her eyes. "I will not kiss you tonight"
"Fine," she stuck her tongue out and quickly licked the tip of his nose, "can I at least borrow your shower?"
He frowned and then backed away, wiping his nose with his hand.
"Fine."
𖠇
Snape stood in his kitchen when Ophelia came out of his bathroom, one of his black t-shirts hanging loosely over her body. She gave him half a smile when she saw him and his stomach lurched.
"Tea's on the table."
Ophelia didn't answer him, instead, she opened his fridge and looked inside.
"Do you have any milk?"
"No," he answered, not taking his eyes off the stove.
"Damn," she sighed.
"How are you feeling?" He asked.
"Like I need a drink," she started to look through his cabinets, knowing he had to have some alcohol stashed somewhere.
The shower had helped with the dizziness, and she just needed a quick refill to feel good again.
"I think you've had quite enough," he protested.
"Ah," Ophelia smiled as she grabbed a bottle of wine. "You see, you can never have enough."
"Will you at least eat something first?" Snape put the pancakes he'd been making on a plate and put them on the table.
"Mhm, don't mind if I do," Ophelia sat down, "it smells amazing."
Snape sat down opposite of her, watching her take a sip of the wine directly from the bottle and then taking a bite from pancakes. He raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest.
"What?" She asked, mouth full, "you want some?" She gestured her fork towards him.
Snape shook his head, "I will, however, have some of this."
He took the bottle from her hand and downed about a third. Ophelia looked at him with big eyes.
"Damn, Snape," she laughed, "rough night?"
He shook his head. It wasn't anymore, because he had somehow ended up exactly where he wanted to be.
Snape smirked, "you're not the only one who can drink, Miss Delisle."
"Alright," Ophelia waved her hand towards the bottle, "gimme."
A few pancakes and the opening of another bottle of wine later, they were sitting curled up on his couch by the fire.
"I've never liked drinking wine before," Snape said, studying the contents of his glass. "However, Minerva never fails to send a bottle every Christmas."
"It's because you've never had the right company," Ophelia smiled.
He smirked, "now you are drunk."
"Maybe.. but I think you are, too," she watched him pour the last of the wine into their glasses. "Who's Minerva?"
Snape scoffed, "headmistress of Hogwarts."
"You don't like her?"
"I do not not like her."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Ah, I see what you're up to," Snape pointed at her with his wine glass.
Ophelia shrugged, "whatever do you mean?"
"You will never get into my head, Miss Delisle," he smirked, "I won't let you."
"I'm not trying to get into your head, Snape," she shook her head, "I'm just trying to get to know you."
"You'll have to get me drunker than this in order to do that."
"Come on, what are you so afraid of?" Ophelia grinned.
"You," he answered, looking straight at her.
"What?" She blinked, "I- uh.. I don't-"
"I know you, Ophelia." Ophelia. "You seek out the different, the outsiders, but you will come to realize that you desire more than they will ever be able to give you."
Ophelia stared at him, taking a breath, "seems like you know the type, then."
She took a sip of her wine and looked away. She didn't know he despised her so much.
Snape hummed, tracing the rim of his glass with his finger.
"I was in love with the type," he said quietly.
Ophelia raised her eyebrows, "what?"
Snape smirked, "surprised?"
"No, just, uhm.." she clicked her tongue and then nodded her head slowly, "yeah, surprised."
There were a few moments of silence, Ophelia waiting for him to continue, and Snape working up the courage to do so.
"I couldn't get along with her friends, and when it came down to a choice, well.." Snape paused, pulling his lips into a thin line and looking down into his glas, "she chose differently."
Ophelia frowned, "why?"
"She didn't love me back," Snape scoffed, "can you imagine that?"
She smiled, "no, not really."
They went silent again. Ophelia shifted in her seat.
"You're right," she said. "I ran from the man I promised the rest of my life to."
Snape frowned, leaning towards her, urging her to tell him the story.
"There was a guy, back home," Ophelia swallowed thickly. She put her glass down on the table and turned to face him, her legs crossing on the couch. "We were the outsiders, we were our own team," she scoffed, "but at the end of the day, we were engaged and when I left I never even said goodbye to him."
He reached out for her, his hand landing on her knee. But then the thought of her being homesick for another man made him quickly remove it again. She noticed him slipping away, and she wasn't ready just yet.
"I don't regret it," she said quickly.
"No?"
"No," she shook her head. "He's the first boy I've ever loved," Ophelia breathed, "just like she was the first girl you've ever loved."
Snape huffed.
"But we're not the same people anymore, are we, Severus? We're not who we used to be."
He blinked at her, "perhaps."
"You don't sound convinced?"
Snape cleared his throat, standing up, "I think it's time to go to bed," he said.
Ophelia sighed, but didn't resist. She followed him to his bedroom where he insisted she take the bed and he'd sleep on the couch. All she could do was nod and follow his lead. He pulled the covers off the bed and motioned with his hand for her to lie down. She looked at the bed and then back at him, stepping closer.
"What are you doing?" He asked, never breaking eye contact.
She smiled gently, and then reached out to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Her lips brushed against his ear and his hands came to rest on her hips. Snape closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
"So," she breathed, "does this mean we're on a first name basis?"
He cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed as he realized she had called him by his first name earlier.
"You'd do well not to step too close to things you might not be able to walk away from," he said, moving his lips to her ear and whispering, "Ophelia."
She moved her head, her cheek grazing his and their noses almost touching, barely pulling away.
"What would you ask for," she played with the buttons on his shirt, "if you knew the answer was yes?"
You, he thought, I would ask for you.
"Go to sleep."