The next morning, you wake to the inviting aroma of sausage, pancakes and coffee. You hear the soft clinging of pots and pans in the kitchen, the swift chomping sound of a knife on a cutting board. You stretch in the large bed, your hair wild and unkempt. It's Christmas Eve, you realize. You glance up and out the little window and see a bright red cardinal pluming its feathers as it perches on a twig. Colorful life thriving in the midst of cold winter, much like the tiny sprout of hope in your heart.
You head into the kitchen and find Severus in a black shirt with his sleeves rolled up, wearing an apron and chopping vegetables for an omelette. "Are you hungry?" he asks when he sees you, a little chuckle escaping him at your sleepy, disheveled form. "Definitely," you reply, the rumbling in your stomach reminding you of the first time he fed you.
He nods to the small kitchen table, "Have a seat." You reluctantly oblige, feeling awkward and unaccustomed to being waited on, especially by a man. A small smile warms your face. My man...
The fireplace crackles and warms your cold hands and feet and makes the whole room smell like cedar. A bit like Severus, you muse.
He settles in the chair adjacent yours, bringing the food over. Your mouth waters at more than just the food as he leans forward on his elbows, his hand palming his fist in front of him as he looks at you intently, "I was thinking," he says as you begin pouring a generous amount of maple syrup atop your stack of pancakes, "We don't have a tree. How would you feel about picking one out from the forest today? Then perhaps we can go into town before the shops close and gather ornaments and lights. If it's something that would interest you," he asks, pouring coffee from a french press.
"That's an excellent idea. I'd like that very much," you smile, taking a bite. "I didn't realize you cooked, Severus," you say, your eyebrow arched playfully, taking a bite of fluffy omelette. "I am a master of combining and heating ingredients. Cooking is not so different from brewing potions," he says, a glint of cockiness in his eye. You smile at his charm, your heart warming. "Thank you for breakfast, it's very good." You take a bite of pancake and a drip of syrup lands on your chin. You quickly reach for a napkin but Severus leans forward, catching the drip with his thumb, bringing it to his lips. His eyes holding yours, he slowly leans in and kisses the sticky spot, his tongue gently licking, up and to your mouth where he plants a deep, soft kiss.
"Such a clumsy girl..." he chides in a slow, sultry voice, his index under your chin. You swallow hard, taking in his handsome features. The morning sunlight streams through the curtains and highlights the muscles on his arms, his pale skin contrasting against his black hair. You sigh a contented sigh before you realize you've been staring, quickly darting your eyes back down to your plate, your cheeks flushing. He smirks as you finish your breakfast.
After, you dress in your warmest clothes and follow Snape to a little work shed in the back yard. He ducks inside and returns with an axe and a bundle of rope and netting, leading you out into the forest behind the cottage. You thread your arm through his, your boots sinking in deep snow, your steps much faster and deliberate than his long, slow ones. The trees here seem very old, giving the woods a timeless feel. You feel small beneath their soaring branches and clinging to Severus's tall frame. The steady crunch of the snow beneath you halts as you enter a clearing, and Snape gestures to a few smaller trees––pines, cedars, firs, and spruce. "The choice is yours," his deep voice utters behind you.
You scan the lineup, thick trees and thin ones, tall and short, sturdy and flimsy. Your eyes land on a young European larch, its wispy, delicate branches swooping upward to the heavens. Snape notices your eye and asks, "This one?" You nod with a smile, having found the perfect tree. He removes his coat and you take it from him. He rolls up his sleeves and his right hand lightly grasps the handle of the axe, its head hovering over the ground as he approaches the tree. He studies it for a moment, then lifts the handle, his left hand grasping beneath his right. You watch the movement of his muscles beneath his shirt as he lifts the axe and it awakens something in you.
He places the blade flat against the lower trunk of the tree, lining up his sights. He pulls back and swings the axe with force, chipping a notch into the tree, removing it and repeating the movement. He sends the axe steadily into the trunk, breathing a low grunt at each blow. The little tree starts to sway a bit, its top unsteady. With one more heavy THWACK the tree falls, moving as if in slow motion, its crash against the earth muffled by the snow.
Severus unwraps the bundle and removes a net, rolling the tree onto it and bundling it tightly in a sheet, protecting its branches and tying a rope to the trunk. He grabs the rope and pulls it over his shoulder, trudging forward in the snow back to the cottage. You carry the axe home, a newfound attraction to wood cutting as you follow behind him, watching the flex of his muscles effortlessly drag the tree. Your eyes wander down to his ass and you have the urge to smack it.
"Enjoying the view?" he asks suddenly and your eyes widen. "How––how did you know?" you ask, a laugh in your voice. "You are not quite as discreet as you might think," he quips.
Are you listening to my mind?
Silence.
"Perhaps," he finally replies, and you both laugh.
You make it back to the cottage and Severus unwraps the tree, drying the snow from it and hauling it inside. He pulls out a stand and turns to you, "I am going to lift the tree––you guide the trunk into the stand." You nod at the ready as he lifts it. You move it into the stand, tightening the bolts around it. You both take a step back and exhale a sigh of satisfaction. "Wonderful choice," he says to you lovingly. You smile and he pulls you to him, placing a gentle kiss on your head. "Shall we go to the village?" You nod excitedly, wrapping your arms around him and you apparate to a secluded area just outside the town so as not to be seen by muggles.
You walk into the little village, down the lantern-lined streets, the cobblestone sidewalk clicking beneath your shoes. People bustle about in and out of shops, gathering last-minute gifts and supplies for their holiday. Severus takes your hand in his and you blush, looking around nervously. "We are not known here," he reassures you quietly, his deep brown eyes soft. You exhale in relief, realizing this is the first time you've been seen with him publicly, and he's right. No one knows who you are, or that you're holding hands with your professor. They do however notice the age gap, earning you a couple of stares and head-turns.
"I'm...afraid that is something we would need to grow accustomed to. Were we to be together," he says in his staccato tone, noticing your eyes watching their curious looks. You straighten, your grip on his hand tightening. "I am proud to be seen with you, Severus," you say gently, looking up at his face that wears a look of surprise and something you can't quite place. "You really are extraordinary," he says quietly, gazing deeply into your eyes with a doting expression.
Snape lets you pick out lights and a few ornaments for the tree, and you feel your excitement for the holiday growing. You begin to feel the electricity that was buzzing between your friends that night at Broomsticks sparking within you. You watch him admiringly as he pays the shopkeep, leading you out and down the street toward the town square. There's a huge Christmas tree in the middle of the square, its lights and decorations being hung. They would light that tree this evening at dusk, a little wooden sign before it exclaimed.
"Let's go decorate our tree," you smile up at him. You walk to the edge of town and disappear in a swirl of black smoke, arriving back at the cottage. You spend the rest of the afternoon stringing the lights and hanging ornaments. The sun disappears and the sky grows dark and Severus lights lamps around the house with his wand. He heads to the kitchen and begins cooking. You disappear into the bedroom to wrap your gift to him to place under the tree.
You help him chop and mince and bake, his hands coming around on either side of you to correct your movements as you stand at the cutting board, doing it all wrong...definitely not on purpose.
You ache at his nearness, his breath on your neck, making you shiver. He covers your hands with his large ones, your left holding a potato and your right holding the knife. He gently lifts the knife in your hand, correcting your grip, "Like this," he mutters so quietly, so deeply in your ear behind you. You forget to breathe for a moment, relishing the closeness. You remember your first detention with him, his hand guiding yours to drop the ingredients in the cauldron.
Your middle pools, your back pressed into his front. Your eyes close and your breathing quickens as he leans in, nuzzling your ear, his lips just barely grazing your skin. "Deliberately sabotaging your work just for a little attention?" his deep timbre vibrates against you, a smirk in his voice. "N...no, Professor," you lie. His hands come around your waist, clasping together in front of you and pulling you into him, your bum pressed against his midsection. "Don't...lie to me," he says lowly in your ear, your cheeks growing hot. "Yes, Professor..." you say quietly, your voice hoarse with arousal. He gently kisses your jaw and rumbles, "Good girl...though I will have to punish you for that later," he says, swatting your bum playfully, and you wonder if it's a threat or a promise.
He returns to his cooking, your chopping resuming after you've steadied yourself. Your body aches at the need for him, wishing he would return to you. He closes the oven door and turns to you, "It will be about an hour. I could rapid cook it for us, if you would like. But there is something wonderfully human about being bound to the laws of physics and time," his brow furrows thoughtfully.
You watch his little mannerisms as he talks, the way his eyes narrow before he speaks, the corner of his mouth twitching when he's confused, the unmoving crease between his brow an external manifestation of the depth of thought happening behind it.
"Would you like to see the tree lighting in the town square?" He asks, pulling you out of your reverie, "Hmm? Yes. What? The tree? Oh, that sounds like an excellent idea, Severus!"
You walk the cobblestone path again, the shops closed for the evening, their awnings laced with string lights, the street lamps burning in a neat row leading to the main event. The giant tree stands dark at the center of the square, families and friends gathered around it. A big man with a beard stands before it, "Count with me, ladies and gents," the crowd joins him in a "Three, two, one!" and the tree blazes to life. You let out a soft sigh and Snape wraps his arms around your shoulder. You turn into him, resting your hand on his chest as you both watch the colorful display. Twinkling lights spiral up the tree, leading to a star at the top, burning bright and warm against the black starry sky. You glance up at Severus who has been watching you with a besotted gaze. You smile and look down but his thumb catches your chin, lifting it back up. He leans down and kisses you slowly, softly, your head spinning and your heart racing.
Who knew the dungeon bat was such a romantic?
You walk back to the edge of town and turn, taking one last look at the bright tree glistening smaller from way out here. He offers you his arm and you take hold, finally getting used to apparating. Somewhat anyway.
Back in the cottage, Severus removes the hen from the oven, the baked bread soon following. You set the table and light candles. You shriek quietly to yourself, amazed that a man could ever make you feel this way or want to participate in such idyllic clichés. "I say we light the tree so we can see it while we eat," he suggests. You agree and plug in the tree, its colorful lights and ornaments sparkling in the dim room, the light of the fireplace casting an amber glow. "Wonderful," he says quietly, a soft smile in his eyes. You warm at his praise.
You take your seat and eat the delicious meal he had made, both of you sharing your experiences and memories with the holiday. You learn about his childhood and it makes your heart ache but feel a sense of camaraderie at the familiarity with your own story. You talk long after you've finished eating, drinking coffee and admiring the tree and each other's company. You have been lonely people your entire lives, but being together is a salve on that tender wound.
Severus flicks his wand, the dirty dishes magically floating and cleaning themselves in the kitchen. "I thought you wanted to limit unnecessary magic," you say with a suspicious look. "Yes, but I may also determine what is necessary," he jokes, standing and leading you to the sitting room.
He settles down on the love seat, pulling you onto his lap, the woody aroma of the fire filling the chilly air. You turn on the television and say to Severus, "A lot of people will argue this isn't a Christmas movie, but I promise it is!"
"Die Hard?" He asks, reading the words on the screen, unfamiliar in his mouth, his brow arched. "It's an action film, but it happens during Christmas. Therefore, a Christmas movie," you insist.
When Hans Gruber comes on screen with his suit and commanding presence, you bite your lip and he catches the slight movement. "I see you have an affinity for suave villains..." You smile and blush, hiding your face beneath the fuzzy throw wrapped around you. He smiles devilishly at you, making your insides warm.
You take his face in your hands, gently kissing his cupids bow, his eyes closing softly at the contact. You take his lip between your teeth and bite lightly, his breathing quickening. You sit squarely on his lap to face him, your legs on either side of him. You kiss him deeply, tasting him and leading the kiss. Your mouth wanders down his face to his neck, then up to his ear where you whisper, "Will you fuck me on your desk again when we return to Hogwarts?"
His gaze falls to your lips, then down to his lap, his countenance falling. "What is it, Severus?" You ask, sobering. He replies softly, "I didn't want to spoil the mood for Christmas, but there is something we should talk about." Your heart thuds in apprehension. "Minerva has spoken to me about our...trysts," his eyes dart back up to find yours, "She has asked that we refrain from further...romantic contact until after you graduate. She feels that to continue in this way would rob you of your focus on your studies and your chance to be young and experience this time with your peers."
Your brows knit together in protest, "But I don't––" he holds up his hand and gently says, "I agree with her, Y/n. If you decide after term that you would like to continue our relationship, then I will be here and would accept with the utmost enthusiasm. But you deserve the chance to really think about your future, unaffected by our intimacy," his eyes gently roam over your downcast features, and he kisses your nose. "But she has allowed us this time away in the meantime, and I intend to make the most of every moment," he drawls, suddenly picking you up and kissing you deeply, standing and carrying you to the bedroom.
Your head spins with the conversation but it fades when you feel his lips roam down your neck where he sucks the delicate skin, leaving a mark. "Professor! It will be noticed!" you exclaim. His eyebrow cocks up smugly, "And you may blame it on that little boyfriend of yours. It validates your story, after all," he utters, dropping you on the bed and unbuttoning the front of your dress, giving him access. "Though I doubt any boy could make you scream like I'm about to..."
Your middle warms at his cocky attitude and the thrill of wearing his mark publicly, for others to notice. He looks down at you and says in a husky voice, "Take it off," nodding to your unbuttoned dress and underthings. You swallow hard and slip your arms out of the dress, unfastening your bra and finally sliding your damp panties down and off. He watches your movements intently, licking his lip when you are finally nude. You sit perched on the edge of the bed, supporting yourself with your arms behind you, your breasts unashamedly exposed to him, your legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles.
You imagine trying to seduce him back at Hogwarts, to see if you could wear down his resolve not to touch you until the end of term. You picture him breaking after hours of your mind filling his with lustful images of being sucked, licked, tasted, and fucked. He studies your face then unfastens his belt, deliberate in his movements, sliding it off and folding it over in his hand, grasping it in his fist. "Bend over the bed," he says in a dark, carnal voice.
Does he intend to whip me?
"Only if you want me to..." You hear his deep voice in your head, "it was, after all, your fantasy."
Your mind replays the fantasy he refers to, being punished for sabotaging your work for his attention. Your middle pools at the mental image of his large hands grasping the belt, swinging it through the air and landing it on your tender flesh in a swift movement. You let out a little whimper unintentionally and he leans down over your bent form to purr in your ear, "Shall I take that as a yes?" and you nod, "Yes, Professor..."
"You feigned ignorance in the kitchen earlier to get my attention...and I told you I'd need to punish you for it," he drawls. A sudden swish cuts through the air and stings against your flesh. You hiss at the sensation. He smacks you again, the sting a bit more pronounced this time. "And now I hear you intend to use other methods to get my attention back at school..." another whip. You cry out at the sting, somewhere between a sob and a moan. You feel his knuckles graze your wet slit. "That will only make things more difficult," he utters with another whip, causing you to sob loudly. He casts the belt aside, his breathing heavy behind you as he pulls you up to stand.
His hands gently glide down your waist and hips and wrap around your front. He mutters lowly in your ear, "Though I must admit..." he kisses your lobe, taking it between his teeth and nibbling softly, "there's a part of me that would love to see you try." You feel your ache growing between your legs, the arousal slowly seeping there. He releases you, his hands coming to unbutton his pants and shirt. He takes you by the shoulders and leads you to face the wall, lifting your arms and placing your palms against the wall to support yourself. He pulls your bum out toward him a bit. His trousers and boxers drop, and you feel the silky hardness of his erection pressed against your ass. You shiver at the contact.
His foot comes between yours and gently kicks them apart, opening the space between your legs, "If you plan to torture me..." he slips his cock between your thighs, between your lips and across your aching center, your wetness pooling around him, "then perhaps I shall return the favor," he says, gently thrusting forward across your clit. You moan loudly as he repeats the movement, slowly but firmly grazing your sensitivity.
You feel his breath on your neck, his hands snaking up and over your breasts, squeezing them softly with his thrusts. You feel your insides clenching in familiar arousal, your climax approaching. You decide if you're quiet, he won't know you're coming and can therefore not torture you by stopping you. You feel it coming closer, closer, closer...
He stops and you cry in frustration. "You can't deceive me, little one..."
Once your panting slows, he continues the torturous movement, sliding over and across your slit, your arousal now dripping down your thighs. You want so badly for him to come inside you, your pussy aching and open for him, longing to be filled. Please...please. His hands slide up over yours, holding them to the wall and thrusting more quickly. Your head swims at the feeling, dying for his entrance.
You struggle your hands away from his, and he growls roughly in your ear, his grip tightening. You try closing your legs but his legs force them open, your core clenching, his manhood coated in your slick heat, "Oh..." you moan, wiggling your body from his grip, the thrill of his forceful chase exhilarating. He roughly slams you to the wall and hisses slowly in your ear, "You will take my cock, you naughty little girl..." You melt in his grip, your body heeding to him. He slips himself over your clit a few more times, holding you right over the edge, your gasps hitching in your throat. Please fuck me...please come inside.
"But you are just too much fun to play with," you hear his deep voice respond seductively in your mind. You jump at the voice, your thoughts exposed to him. You feel vulnerable and so turned on. He sees your fantasies and desires, the ones you're too embarrassed to say aloud. Your weeping middle threatens to come, your breath ragged and unsteady. You moan loudly at the slow, agonizing pace of his head bumping against your clit, holding you close to the edge but never releasing you.
He gently twists your nipple and nuzzles your ear and it sends you almost over the edge but he withdraws. You scream your frustration. "Professor, please! Come inside me, please..."
He grabs your throat with his large hand and smirks, "Because you're always so polite," and thrusts inside you suddenly, your eyes widening then squeezing shut, your mouth agape, choking out little gasps and moans of pleasure. Your core clenches tightly around his cock, and he slowly slides it out, then rams it back in with a deep growl. One hand squeezes your neck, the other takes your nipple between his fingers and tugs lightly, sending jolts of pleasure to your center. "Fuck!" you scream, the sensation overwhelming.
His grip on you tightens as you hear his gasps in your ear turn into deep moans, "I'm going to come!" you moan loudly, surprised at the lasciviousness of your own voice. He steadies his pumps and takes you slowly, making you sob at the denial. You hear the smirk in his voice, "I've seen into that dirty little mind of yours..." he kisses your neck. "You want me to chase you and make you take my cock, don't you?" he mutters languidly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You bite your lip. "Answer me," he says softly but firmly. "I...yes, Professor."
He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, "You kept these fantasies locked away from me. Even from yourself," he replies. His smooth, slow thrusts gradually gain speed, "I told you what your punishment would be in detention, didn't I?" You moan loudly, the heat of your bodies growing with your approaching climax. "We're going to act out your fantasies...all of them," he thrusts harder, faster, "Now come for me, my naughty girl..." he says in that deliciously sexy voice, and you obey your professor, coming hard and sobbing your pleasure loudly, your body plummeting into waves of heavenly bliss. Your convulsing walls milk his cock as he releases into you, the warmth filling you up.
Your breathing calms and he slips out of you, turning your face to softly kiss it. Your eyes meet his and he says softly, "Beautiful girl..." He kisses your shoulders, your arms and your hands, leading you to the bath.
He lowers you in the hot water and washes your body with a cloth, admiring your soft skin. "Professor...how will we refrain from this? I don't think I could even go a day, much less five full months." He sighs and softly replies, "I...do not know," he looks down at the cloth, collecting soap on it before smoothing it across your skin again. "I suppose we will have to pretend things have gone back to normal for a little while," a listless tone in his voice. Your eyes suddenly burn with tears and you look away quickly. He takes your face in his hands, "It is in your best interest," he says peering deeply past your tears, the crease between his brow reinforcing his stance on the issue.
"But I love you, Severus..." you whisper from your tightening throat as a tear rolls down your cheek. He wipes it away with his thumb and his gaze softens. "I love you, Y/n. It will be alright. I will still see you in class and in the halls. At mealtimes. It isn't like we're separating." You nod reluctantly as he pulls you into his arms and cradles you there. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.
Your heart aches but relishes the warmth of his affection, wanting to soak up every minute of it. That night in the dark bedroom, you lie on Snape's chest as you both gaze silently out the window to the full moon in the sky, the stars so vivid and bright way out here far from light pollution. Little flakes of snow begin falling and you watch them, your lids growing heavy to the sound of his heart beat.