Ophelia carefully approached the window that would lead directly to her room, which she had left open for situations like these. It was two am and she was just getting back from a nightclub, which Cory had so kindly invited her to.
Cory was the first friend Ophelia had made when she moved in that summer. He had taken her under his wing and introduced her to all her current friends. He had really been there for her regarding her brother's death. He didn't know of her magical powers, though, her parents had a long time ago forbidden her to speak of it around muggles.
Ophelia's breath hitched in her throat when the window wouldn't budge. She pressed her forehead against the glass and then let out a long sigh, it was locked from the inside, she must have pushed it down too hard when she snuck out earlier that night. Ophelia didn't know if she could manage to sneak into the house without waking her mother, who was a light sleeper, or disturbing her father, who never slept.
She snuck around the house to the patio, the glass doors were almost always left unlocked. She swiftly slid the door open and breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and the house was still quiet. It had been a week since the dinner with the Bentley's, and her father had been on edge ever since. It made the house a very dangerous place to be, her mother was walking on eggshells around him, and Ophelia found that it was easier and better for everyone if she just stayed away.
"Delisle," a voice whispered from the dark.
Ophelia flinched, and had she not been as intoxicated as she was, she might've even screamed. She turned around to face the owner of the deep voice, and even though she hadn't heard it for a week, she would know it anywhere, she would never be able to forget it.
"Snape," she greeted him, "how do you do this fine evening?"
"What exactly are you doing?" He asked through gritted teeth.
"I could ask you the same thing, Professor," she grinned at him.
He approached her swiftly, the moonlight giving them limited sight of each other. He grabbed her chin with his hand roughly, moving her head from side to side, inspecting her. She flinched and ripped his hand away, suddenly feeling very flustered.
"What the fuck?" She hissed.
"Are you drunk?" Snape glared at her.
"Frankly, I don't see how that's any of your business," Ophelia shrugged. She turned around and opened the fridge, however, Snape's hand stopped the door halfway and slammed it shut.
"Hey! I wanted tea to my milk," she crossed her arms over her chest and then frowned, "no.. the other way around, I wanted milk because I was going to make tea-"
"You're lucky that I am not halfway to your father's study right this second," he leaned down to get right in her face.
"Wait," she closed her eyes and shook her head, "you're not going to tell my father?"
"Consider this a favor, Miss Delisle," he whispered, "one of very few that I will ever offer you."
"Wow, don't you know how to make a girl feel special," she scoffed.
Snape rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, "go to bed, Miss Delisle."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not going to bed," she stated, narrowing her eyes in his, "not yet, anyway."
"And why not?" He growled, annoyed at her disobedience.
"Cause I won't be able to fall asleep," she snapped.
"And how would you know that, without even trying?" Snape raised an eyebrow.
"I can just feel it, alright?" She glared at him, "here," she said quietly and put her hand over her chest.
Snape contemplated her words, taking his time to breathe in and out slowly. He was breathing like he had made it an art form, his chest rising and falling with the sedative qualities of a lullaby. The night was so quiet that Ophelia could hear each breath with ease. She, however, felt like she couldn't breathe at all.
Snape was just about to ask what she meant, when a door was slammed shut in the other room. Ophelia felt like every pore in her body released the toxins from the alcohol she'd consumed earlier, and her brain switched to survival mode.
"Shit," Ophelia whispered before grabbing the Professor by his hand and pulling him into the pantry, carefully closing the door.
The room was small, it was barely big enough to fit the both of them. They were standing chest to chest as the sound of Ophelia's father rummaging through the kitchen rang in their ears.
"Are you insane-"
Ophelia cut Snape off by putting her hand over his mouth and glaring at him. With every inhale, his chest would touch hers and Ophelia was certain he could feel her rapid heartbeat, because she could definitely feel his. She could feel her face getting hotter as his face was so dangerously close to hers.
Snape went rigid as the door to the pantry opened and a thin stripe of light filled a small portion of the room. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed her flush against him, he was as far up against the shelves as humanly possible. Ophelia's father rummaged through the shelves closest to the door, and she thought for sure she was going to have a heart attack. If her father caught her in that position, in that room, with that particular man, there was no guessing how he would react.
She could feel Snape's heartbeat slow down as her father found what he was looking for and closed the door, retreating from the kitchen. Snape glared down at her and she quickly removed her hand from his face, whispering an apology. She was suddenly very aware of his hand on her lower back, and she blushed as she let her thoughts wander.
Ophelia felt Snape shift slowly. "You need to close off your mind," he whispered and removed his hand from her back.
And the sensation was gone.
"How about not reading my goddamn mind," she hissed and backed away from him, supporting herself on the shelf behind her.
He watched her as she breathed out heavily, rubbing her eyes. He could see the heaviness in her face, could practically feel her headache. He wanted to say something, to scold her for the sinful place she had let her mind wander to, but he found himself unable to. A sort of calm had washed over him, until he remembered where they were and why they were there.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" He sneered, stepping forward to tower over her.
"Hey!" She glared up at him, "you should be thanking me, I saved both our asses back there."
"Saved," he scoffed, "would hardly be the appropriate term."
"I panicked, alright?" She said quietly.
He narrowed his eyes in hers and let out a small scoff. Snape had been through enough in his lifetime to know it was fear that triggered the rage he was feeling towards the girl in front of him. Fear of being caught, it was what fuelled the hot burning anger inside of him. He had learned to control it over the years, when his mind and body wasn't his own. Snape took a deep breath, let out a disapproving grunt and then stormed out the pantry.
Ophelia sighed and rested her head against the shelf. She closed her eyes for a moment, just long enough to get her feet back on the ground. What had Snape been doing at her house, anyway?
She left the pantry quietly, her heart still beating loudly in her ears. The rush from almost getting caught, the adrenaline coursing through her body, it excited her. Being stuck in a closed space together with Snape, she hated to admit it but it made her feel someting she hadn't felt in a while; alive.
Ophelia was halfway to her room when the blood in her ears finally settled, and the heaviness in her head became more evident. All she wanted was to go to sleep. Her wish, however, did not come true as the lights in the hallway were turned on.
"Where have you been?" Hearing her fathers voice echo throughout the house made her shiver.
She shrugged, "oh, just out."
The favor from Snape seemed wasted now.
"You're going to have to give me more than that," he sighed, leaning against the doorframe of her room. "Unless," he shrugged, "you want me to wake your mother."
Ophelia scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Cory took me dancing."
Her father nodded slowly, "you know," he breathed, "your mother doesn't like that kid."
"Yeah?" Ophelia let out a small laugh, looking down at her shoes. Somehow, talking to her father made her feel like she was ten years old again.
"Yeah," and there was something in his voice that made Ophelia look up.
Her father pushed himself off the frame and took two steps towards her. And then he smiled.
"Don't worry, I won't tell," he slightly nudged her shoulder as he passed her, winked and bid her goodnight.