Chapter 5: x Fall for the Fallen
Author Notes: Please note that none of this has been beta'd or anything - no one has done it for me. I just sort of wrote it chapter by chapter, and uploaded it chapter by chapter. So, if it's grammar bad and such, please forgive me. But I really don't have anyone to beta it for me.
Disclaimer: Like I said before, I own nothing.
Enjoy!
V. Fall for the Fallen
It hardly came to reality the fact that the first person to hug me in ten years is none other then my former worst-enemy. And in the matter of only a week my entire emotion system has gone on a roller coaster while the thing that has come closet to getting me on the ride took over three blasted years. I blamed the book, the chess games, the candy hearts. And the blasted innocence held in the boys eyes. They're so fragile. So gentle, and offered me what any lonely man would need; love.
And I fell for it.
I could bloody make a potion for me to put me out of my misery. Get away from the pains of students and homework and that damned Albus with his twinkling eyes. It'd take no more then a day or two. But I can't leave the boy. I'm not bound by anything; words or promises. But I'm bound with the strangest thing in my life: my heart. I wouldn't mind a Potter to play chess with. Everyday. Every hour. Every minute. For the rest of my life.
And I fell hard.
"Severus?" The words startle me, and I feel a shiver glide down my spine. It's Albus, back to pester me. I went through hell for the man, yet he still comes to me each time. I stiffen up and shrug off the feelings, turning around to face the aging old man. What charm the man has to life. He's so simple, and so giving. But he only wants one thing; happiness. Happiness for the world, and people. Merlin, I'm turning into a preachers boy.
"Yes?" I ask, getting out of my words. His eyes glitter. He has a favor to ask me. I know it. The twinkle is like the start of an equation hat equals to me doing a favor. I'm use to this math now on. I only wish I was taught it and prepared for it in the past.
"I want to thank you for hugging our young Harry today." I groan, he notices but doesn't act upon it. He never does. He respects my emotions.
"He was vulnerable." I murmur quietly and glance at the sand clock, wishing that the older man wouldn't interrogate me at this time. I needed rest and my bed. I had went through rough terrain these last nights, and I just wanted to relax. I had the chance to now. Potter was okay.
"Severus. He cares for you." He lies. The boy doesn't care for me. I'm his greasy old git of a Potions Professor. He bought me a bloody present. And played a total of forty-one games of chess to date with me. And he always keeps my tea cup half empty and half full. Merlin, he does care. A little.
"Fine. Then let him care for me." I mutter coldly, my fingers tapping on the desk in annoyance.
"And you care for him, Severus." The hair on the back of my neck tingles at his words; he's bloody right, I do care. I shouldn't care for the boy for an inch - But I do, oddly enough.
"Headmaster, I only played chess with the boy." I reply, looking thoughtfully at the book he bought me in a way to get rid of the image of Albus looking at me so.. deeply.
"You gave him a reason." He mutters and an arrow strikes through my heart. This is all so true, but I won't admit it. I can't admit it. There are reasons, too many to list in one thought. I can't think of anything to say to the man's words. He wins every battle that we have; and I honestly wish he would let me have one. I swiftly look at him. He's standing by my desk, looking at me with those eyes. And I sigh, as a reply. Just a simple sigh. I want my glare. My words. Merlin, I want my Potter.
"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..