Her first opportunity to prove herself came that Thursday evening when Cory was softly tapping on her window.
"Sorry, Cor, I'm not coming tonight."
Ophelia was sitting on the floor, her arms crossed over the windowsill.
Cory bent his knees, putting his weight on his toes. His hand came up to feel her forehead, brows creasing.
"Are you ill?"
"Oh, shut up," she swatted his hand away. "I just feel like I should cut back on the drinking for a while, you know?"
"I truly don't," Cory frowned.
She playfully slapped his chest with the back of her hand and he laughed.
"Alright, then," he breathed, giving her arm a squeeze, "see you tomorrow?"
"Ah, no, actually.. I'm having dinner with Teddy and his dad."
Cory's eyes practically jumped out of his head.
"You're joking!" He raised his eyebrows, "well, how the hell did that happen?"
"He just asked me and.." she shrugged, "I didn't know how to say no."
He narrowed his eyes, "you're not shagging him, are you?"
"No!" She frowned, "I mean, he's good looking but I don't have the hots for Teddy's dad, okay?"
"Not his dad, Teddy! But good to know where you stand."
"Oh! Yeah, makes more sense," she pursed her lips, "but no, not Teddy either."
"But you're thinking about it?"
Ophelia shook her head. The only one she could possibly be thinking of that way, she couldn't have. It was confusing, because she was used to liking someone because they had been kind to her, because they offered her hope and a sense of affection. But Snape wasn't like that, and it made her all the more desperate to see him again.
"I'm really not."
"Huh," Cory breathed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Come on," she nudged him, "you can tell me."
"There just has to be something severely wrong with Teddy," Cory shrugged.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I thought you were horny for just about anyone," he grinned.
Ophelia's jaw dropped as she stuck her middle finger in his face.
"You know that thing I said before? Yeah, I take it right back, never tell me anything ever again!"
"Sorry," Cory laughed.
"You know, you joke a lot about my sex life," she teased, "I'm beginning to think it's because you wish you were in it."
He rolled his eyes, "in your dreams, Delisle."
𖠇
His wards warned him the second Ophelia stepped into his home. Snape took a deep breath, contemplating the next course of action. He had been thinking deeply about her, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter that he had wanted to kiss her back in the water and it didn't matter that he had wanted to kiss her again on the balcony, because he could never allow himself those desires. Which was all that it was; desire. Nothing more.
Nothing more.
Besides, there were other, more urgent, matters demanding his attention and he simply could not afford to be distracted. He would not let silly desires ruin everything.
"Exactly how.. did you manage to break into my house?" Snape said as she stepped into his potions lab.
"You gave me my wand back, remember?"
Snape rolled his eyes, "I do not have time for you this evening."
"Trust me, I'd rather be dancing and having drinks with my friends like a normal teenager. But alas," she sighed dramatically, "here I am, prepared to sacrifice my valuable time to mince bat tongues and frog legs."
He ignored her, continuing to add stewed mandrakes to the potion until it had the desired red color.
Ophelia walked to stand beside him, looking down into the cauldron, "come on, what are we doing?"
Snape frowned. Usually when he told someone to leave, they did so gladly. No one in their right mind wanted to spend more time than necessary in the presence of the dungeon bat. However, Ophelia seemed to make it a point to be close to him.
"Draught of Peace."
Ophelia had never excelled in potions. However, with the help of Snape's book, she felt confident she at least wouldn't set his home on fire.
"For you?" She asked.
"For Hogwarts," he sneered.
She rolled her eyes. Such attitude.
"I was under the assumption that your Occlumency had.. improved," Snape said while stirring the potion, turning it orange, "my mistake."
Ophelia added more stewed mandrake to the mixture before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning her hip against the table.
"Thought we talked about you reading my mind, Snape."
"And I thought that I informed you that it is very difficult when they are nearly shouting at me, Delisle," he growled.
It wasn't as though he was actively trying to read her mind, but sometimes, when she was thinking of something clearly, her thoughts almost blurred with his. It scared him. It made him believe that his mind wasn't as safe as he thought, and so he put up the only defense system he had; anger.
"Well, I wouldn't have to think so much if you wouldn't go ballistic on me every time I open my damn mouth," she retorted.
"It is better to let someone think you are a dunderhead.. than to open your mouth and prove it," he turned away from the potion, facing her fully.
"If I talk like a dunderhead, Professor," she took a step closer, "it is only because it's the only way you'll understand me."
Snape's jaw tensed, about to throw another insult her way when the potion started to bubble over. His hand brushed her arm as he reached to turn down the heat. And as the liquid simmered down, so did their argument.
"Oh," Ophelia reached into her bag, "here."
She put his book on advanced potion-making on the workbench. He stared at it, hadn't even noticed it was missing. But why would he? The book had suddenly appeared in his home after the battle of Hogwarts. Snape suspected that Potter had secretly held on to it and decided to give it back. However, Potter denied the accusation and admitted that he had thought the book had been destroyed in a fire.
"That is my book," Snape stated.
"Yes, I borrowed it."
"You stole my book," he said through gritted teeth, turning to face her once again.
"Nuh uh," she frowned, "bo-rrowed."
He glared at her, "you cannot take things that aren't.. yours."
"Well, yeah," she scoffed, "that's why I'm giving it back."
"Infuriating woman," he spat, "I never should have given you your wand back."
"Hey!" She stood up straight, "you never had the right to take it in the first place."
Snape picked up the book, "and you never had the right to take this."
"So I guess we're even, then!"
He narrowed his eyes in hers, taking steady breaths. He was very good at picking fights and making people squirm, but he realized she could keep up just fine. And as he stared down at her, the corner of his mouth moved upwards. It was minimal, but it was there. A smile.
Her body shivered just a little as her muscles relaxed. There was something about that gaze of his she'd never find in another man. He really knew how to drive a girl crazy.
"Alright," he said finally.
"Alright," she said, and couldn't help but smile as they turned back to the potion.
Ophelia couldn't stop staring at his hands while they worked. The way they moved while chopping ingredients and measuring them exactly. His hands looked rough, but she wondered if they would feel softer against her skin. They were hands that spoke of the kind of precision that only the focus of years may bring.
"We are finished," Snape said, wiping his hands on a towel.
She swallowed thickly, trying to rid her mind of the sinful images of his calloused hands all over her.
Ophelia turned to him with a shaky smile, "Legilimency lessons?"
Snape shook his head, "tea."
He walked past her up the stairs, leaving her alone in the room for a moment. Ophelia pursed her lips, guessing she could wait a little longer. She found him in his kitchen, boiling water.
"What would you like?" He stood with his back towards her, taking tea bags out of the cupboard.
"Blackcurrant, please," she said, "if you have."
It was the calmest she'd ever seen him, his shoulders rising and falling ever so slightly with the gentle breaths he took, his hand running through his jet black hair. She felt like she could watch him forever, just the back of him. It was enough.
"Are you going to keep staring.. or join me?" He asked, bemused.
Ophelia cleared her throat, "yeah, uhm.. sorry."
Snape smiled, only because he knew she couldn't see. She was rarely nervous around him, and it felt good to know that he could have that effect on her.
She stopped beside him, their shoulders brushing against each other.
"Blackcurrant with milk," he said, handing her a cup.
"Thank you," Ophelia smiled.
Her hands covered his in the exchange. He glanced at her and caught her staring at him through her lashes. His eyes fell to her lips, soft and vibrant. Snape breathed in sharply, tempted, but paralyzed.
Then the cup fell through her fingers, glass shattering on the floor and hot liquid splashed everywhere.
"Shit," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."
Ophelia quickly bent down to pick up the broken pieces.
"Stop," he said, dropping down in front of her, "you'll cut yourself." Snape grabbed her frantic hands in his, "use your wand, you silly witch."
She looked at him, and for once he didn't seem angry.
"Right," she breathed, followed by a weak smile.
Ophelia dropped the pieces of glass from their hands and cleaned up the mess she'd made.
"Reparo."
The cup was whole once more.
"You can perform wandless magic," he said, not shocked but a bit surprised.
"Only simple spells.. I'm sorry, again," she said as they stood up.
"No need for apologies, Miss Delisle," Snape dismissed her.
Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest, grinning, "who are you and what have you done with Professor Snape?"
He scoffed while pouring her another cup of tea.
"It would be an enormous waste of energy.. to fight over something so foolish as spilt tea."
"Right you are, sir."
Ophelia liked this side of him, the gentle, the calm. His defenses were very efficient, but if she allowed herself to dream then maybe they were meant for others, and she had her own door.
They sat down on his couch in front of the fireplace, the same spot they'd drunk wine and been completely honest with each other all those weeks ago. The bookshelves on the wall behind them were filled to the brim, some books even had to make themselves home on his floor.
"Have you actually read all those books?" She asked, sitting cross legged and facing him.
"No, Miss Delisle, they are only for decoration," he answered sarcastically.
Ophelia gave him a crooked smile, happy that the calm and gentle was still him.
"Can I ask you something?" She asked, sipping her tea.
Snape sighed, "you can always try."
She breathed deeply, putting her tea down and running her hands through her hair.
"Why is my father reading my mind? What does he think I know?"
Snape pulled his lips into a thin line, leaving his cup on the table and glancing over at her.
"It is not what you know, it is why you know it."
She frowned, "what the hell does that mean?"
"I cannot tell you anything more, Miss Delisle."
"Why?" She asked desperately. "I am sick and tired of being kept in the dark, especially when I'm clearly involved somehow."
"It is getting late," he said, standing up, "I believe it's time to go home, Delisle."
He stalked towards the door, and she followed him.
"Wait," she put a hand on his arm, forcing him to stop and face her.
Ophelia licked her lips, building up the courage to ask what had really been playing on her mind for the better part of the week.
"Does it really not matter to you?" She asked quietly.
Snape stared at her, clearly deep in thought, journeying through some creative stream only he could sense. She ran her hands through her hair, eyebrows creased, looking up at him with eyes full of intensity,
"Please," she whispered and stepped closer, her hand running up his arm.
His heart was pounding in his ears. The thought of her pressed against him, just the whisper of his imagination, and he was losing control.
It is only desire, he kept telling himself. He'd dealt with worse before.
"I cannot.. it doesn't matter-"
"You keep saying that," Ophelia interrupted, "but it matters to me.. Severus."
As soon as she said his name, he had her trapped against the wall. One hand came up to grab the side of her face and the other rested on his wallpaper as he pressed against her.
The sound of his name usually made him scowl, it always came with strings and favors to be asked. But what she seemed to be asking was exactly what he had been longing for. So perhaps having strings wasn't so terrible, if she was on the other end of them.
"Do it again," he demanded.
"Do what?" Ophelia breathed.
"Kiss me."
Her eyes widened as she whispered gently, "what?"
"Kiss.. me."
And so she did. Her hands grabbed his shirt collar as their lips moved hurriedly against each other. She pulled him flush against her, breathing fast, heart rate faster. Her fingers tangled in his long hair, their kiss full of raw intensity. His tongue grazed hers and she welcomed him fully. The hands she'd been fantasizing about grabbed her waist, rough fingers finding their way under her shirt and moving across her lower back.
He trapped her bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently, and she couldn't help a small moan escaping her. It drove him insane. He kissed her lips, then her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Then he came up to meet her lips again, lingering for a moment before pulling away slowly, reluctantly. His hands covered her cheeks as he breathed her in.
"Now, you are trying to get into my head."
"Not everything is a scheme, Snape," she smirked and kissed him once more.