Severus Snape (severus_or) wrote in chat_or, @ 2008-01-19 14:30:00 |
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Current mood: | nervous |
Who: Sappho and Severus
Where: Slytherin Common Room (at first)
When: Saturday, 19th January
What: They go to Hogsmeade together.
Severus sat on the sofa in the common room, his cloak draped over the arm, with hands clasped together between his knees. His legs bobbed nervously, though he wasn't really certain why. He and Sappho had been as inseparable as their disparate schedules would allow ever since Wednesday. Then again, today was their first real date, as it were -- going outside the castle and all that.
Would she want to go Madam Puddifoot's and snog? He'd never been to that place, but he'd certainly heard what went on there, and his stomach squirmed pleasantly at the thought. He'd never kissed anybody, either, but he was certainly anxious to give it a go. And Sappho was nice. And pretty. And she smelt nice. And he liked how he felt about himself when he was with her. She made him feel brilliant and witty and ... handsome, which he never thought he'd feel -- not once.
Of course, he'd always dreamt of taking Lily to Madam Puddifoot's, but somehow those dreams seemed so distant now. He also felt a twinge of guilt, but he tried his best to suppress it. Lily wasn't his girlfriend; he wasn't betraying her in the slightest. And while he wasn't quite certain if he could call Sappho his girlfriend just yet, it was perfectly natural to take her someplace cosy where they could be alone, wasn't it?
Anything that might have resembled guilt evaporated from his mind when he looked up to see Sappho enter the common room. His breath caught in his chest, and he smiled, standing up and throwing his cloak over his arm. People ought to be queuing up in the entrance hall by now, so he crossed the common room in three quick strides and held out his arm to her. "You look beautiful," he whispered, smiling again.
Sappho turned her head an inch and blushed. "So do you," she trilled. After slipping one hand out of her muff, she wrapped her arm around his and replaced that hand in the tube of gray fur. "Of course, you always look beautiful. Or would you prefer I say handsome or dishy? I think all three would work in your case." She cuddled up to his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. Luckily, she'd had the foresight to fasten her hat to her hair with pins, so it didn't fall off and go rolling across the floor.
"Dishy is my favorite," Severus said, trying not to smirk too awfully much, although it was a bit difficult. "And thank you." He leant his head against hers momentarily before starting toward the common room door. For a split second, he'd thought about pressing a kiss to her temple, but he wasn't certain how that would go over, so he stopped himself. Before he could open the door for them both, he had to pause long enough to sling his cloak over his shoulder, but he didn't think Sappho would mind the delay, in light of his attempt at a gallant gesture.
She gave a soft moan when Severus touched his head to hers, even if her hat was a little in the way. "Dishy it is, then. And you are, without a doubt, as dishy as they get!" she purred. Sappho was starting to grow accustomed to his opening doors for her and doing other gentlemanly things, so she allowed him to get the door and escort her through the dungeons. "I bet all the girls will be jealous when they see you with me. Looking so dishy with your cloak and being so chivalrous, as usual. You make me feel like a proper lady." With that, she nuzzled her cheek against his sleeve.
Though he was fairly certain the other girls would be nothing of the sort, Severus knew better than to voice that thought. Nevertheless, he walked a little taller with Sappho on his arm. He chose, instead, to address the last bit of what she'd said. "Well, you are a proper lady, so it's only fitting you should feel like one." He gave her a small smile, bordering on a smirk, before they started up the stairs to the entrance hall. When they joined the end of the queue, he couldn't help scanning the group to see if Lily was already waiting. He didn't see her, however, and ... he was a lot less disappointed than he'd expected to be.
The chill drifting in through the open doors reminded him that he'd best put on his cloak and gloves. "Excuse me a moment," he muttered, pulling his arm back from where it was looped through hers. After draping his cloak over his shoulders and fastening the material securely around his neck, he reached into the pocket to remove his dragonhide gloves. They were not the warmest things imaginable, but they were the only gloves he had, so they would have to do. He hadn't really thought about it before, since he didn't venture out of the castle to Hogsmeade very often. When he'd finished, he looped his arm through Sappho's again, this time murmuring an apology for the delay.
"Thank you, Severus. I've always hoped I could be a proper lady for you. You deserve that," Sappho lilted. Her cheeks burned and she smiled so broadly that all her teeth were showing. When he put on his gloves, she blinked several times. Were those his work gloves? Did he not have any winter gloves? "Dragonhide can't be very warm. Are you sure you'll be all right with them? You can share my muff if you'd like," she said softly. Her eyes were wide and pleading, like a puppy's.
He couldn't help smiling at her obvious concern, but Severus wasn't about to admit he couldn't afford better gloves -- even if that was painfully obvious, as well. "I'll be fine," he said quietly, shaking his head. "They're a great deal warmer than they look." Something else became obvious -- as they shuffled forward in the queue -- and that was Mr Filch was surprised, and a little bit suspicious, to see him with a girl. Severus was determined, however, to be on his best behaviour, so that the caretaker wouldn't think to take back his Potions workroom and convert it into a broom cupboard again.
Sappho smiled and bowed her head when Filch looked at her. She had always respected the man and knew that a little common courtesy went a long way with him. "Hello, Mr Filch," she said. He seemed appeased by this and continued with his duties, checking their names off of his list.
Severus felt his eyebrows rise. Most people despised Mr Filch. Then again, Sappho was anything but a discipline problem, and that was what raised Filch's hackles more than anything. They stepped outside, and he once again removed his arm from Sappho's, but this time it was only to put it around her shoulders to steady her as they made their way down the snow-covered marble staircase. He would have hated for her to fall.
She put one arm around his waist then. Partly for the added security, since she had all of a sudden felt like swooning, but also to be closer to him. He was gradually touching her more and more, and she wanted to do the same. Now Sappho was in the perfect position to lean her head on his chest (or the front of his shoulder, as it were). She did so with a kittenish whimper. Severus felt quite warm, and his cloak and robes were cosy.
Severus smiled when Sappho leant her head against his chest. He certainly hadn't been expecting that, but the surprise was undoubtedly a pleasant one. So much so that he didn't bother to remove his arm from around her shoulders, even after they had reached the bottom of the marble staircase and set off up the road toward Hogsmeade. If he recalled correctly, to reach the Shrieking Shack, they would take the first left after they'd passed the Three Broomsticks, and continue up the rise. The Shack itself was supposed to sit where the road ended at the top of the hill.
Despite the path being mostly cleared of snow, they had to be careful not to slip. There was a good deal of remaining frost. It made squishing sounds under the weight of their feet. Regardless, Sappho felt it was the most romantic date possible. "How many ghosts do you think are in there? I mean, if it's supposed to be as haunted as they say, it should have ten times as many ghosts as the school. That would be an awful lot of ghosts for such a small house. Is that even possible?" Sappho tried to imagine some seventy people dying in one tiny spot. It seemed a bit of a stretch to her.
"I don't think it's their number so much as their ferocity," Severus answered, shrugging. "Even the Bloody Baron seems to think they're a bad lot, and nothing frightens him." The wind picked up just then, and Severus could have sworn that every bit of it was whipping right through his gloves. He tried his best to repress a shiver, however, because he didn't want Sappho to know he'd been less than honest with her. His dragonhide gloves would keep away the frostbite, and that really was good enough. When they were halfway up the hill they had been climbing, he saw the Three Broomsticks off to their right, and the road to the Shack just ahead on the left. "This way, I think," he said, nodding toward the turn in the road ahead.
"Oh, I see. Do you think they're poltergeists as well, or just really nasty, regular ghosts?" she asked. As they made a left toward their destination, she gave him a squeeze. The Shack was now coming into view. Sappho squinted to get a better look at it. "Do you know much about its history, Severus? I can't seem to find any reliable records of it."
"Not a thing," Severus said, quickly, but he clenched his jaw shut a second later. He was starting to shiver in earnest, and his teeth were beginning to chatter. Damn. He wouldn't be able to hide this from Sappho much longer, no matter how hard he clenched his jaw. What on earth had possessed him to think that going to Hogsmeade was a good idea? They could have sat their arses in front of the common room fire and had a nice, long, warm conversation, for the better part of the day. Instead, now he was seriously considering taking her up on the offer of sharing her muff -- and he would have done, if he hadn't already lied to her about his gloves being quite warm enough, thank-you-very-much.
They reached the fence, where they stopped to view the Shrieking Shack. It was fairly boring, but then again Sappho wasn't there for the dilapidated building. She was on an outing with her beloved Severus. Even if she hadn't yet told him the extent of her feelings, holding him was extremely romantic. When she turned to look at him, Sappho could see that he was shaking. It seemed doubtful that this was a reaction to the haunted house they were standing in front of. They needed to be indoors and soon. "Why don't we go in the Three Broomsticks and warm ourselves up? It's far too cold out here." Steam rose from her mouth as she spoke.
"I -- hate -- that -- place," Severus managed to grind out, without unclenching his jaw too awfully much. "Everybody will be there." And by 'everybody,' he meant Black and Potter and their entourage of followers. Which was close enough to everybody, for his taste. The few times he'd stepped into the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer on his way back from Dervish and Banges, Potter and Black seemed to be engaged in some sort of comedy competition with the landlady -- probably to see if they could make her laugh hard enough to wet herself. It had always put him off his drink, the way everybody laughed at their childish antics.
"We could go to Scrivenshaft's now, if you want," he added with a shrug. Or Madam Puddifoot's, he continued mentally, though he hadn't the nerve to say that aloud. Sappho had mentioned one of the three places in Hogsmeade where one could order food and drink, and if they went to one of those, she'd probably wonder why he wasn't having anything. That would be almost as embarrassing as freezing to death, right in front of her eyes.
Sappho nodded with a groan. "Oh, I hate that place, too. I only suggested it because it's the closest. We'll go to Scrivenshaft's then." It was true. She preferred the Hog's Head to the Three Broomsticks -- there were fewer students who patronised it -- but today she was set on trying Madam Puddifoot's They went back to the main road and headed up toward the quill shoppe. It was in front of Honeydukes that a solution occurred to her.
"You know, a hot cup of tea would warm us far better than merely going inside. Perhaps we should stop by Madam Puddifoot's first." She used the most nonchalant tone she could muster. Having been a perfect gentleman, Severus might not appreciate a shameless ploy for a snog. And he could still be thinking of her as just a friend, someone else having already won his heart.
Severus swallowed hard, scarcely daring to believe his ears. She had just suggested Madam Puddifoot's, and now, two of his strongest drives were at war with one another: his pride versus his hormones. He'd love to take Sappho to Madam Puddifoot's and snog her senseless, and yet, he'd have to decline to order anything, because he hadn't the gold. Would she think any less of him for that? After all, the whole idea -- or pretense, rather -- was to have a hot drink to warm them up. But he wouldn't be drinking anything. Finally, it occurred to him that he hadn't spoken for a very long time, and Sappho might take his silence badly, as well. The possibility of hurting her feelings was enough to tip the balance of battle in favour of his hormones, and so he said, hoping to sound as casual as she had, "Ah ... all right."
She could have slapped herself for smiling so profusely. At this rate, her lips would be sore before she had a chance to plant them on Severus. "Do you like any particular teas?" she asked. The giddy rush had taken complete control, for the words came out in a shrill lisp. It was all she could do not to skip when they made the left turn to reach the tea house.
"I'm more of a coffee person," Severus answered, frowning, because he really couldn't afford either at the moment. "But -- ah -- I'm not all that thirsty." The second the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to slap himself for being so obvious. He might as well have painted on his forehead -- in bright, blinking, chartreuse lettering, no less -- 'I'm taking you to Madam Puddifoot's to snog you senseless!' He turned fairly red at the very idea. Then again, Sappho had suggested they go there, so perhaps she had the same thing in mind?
"It's not a question of being thirsty. You're shivering. You need something to warm you before you catch your death. I want you alive and well, so we can spend time together. It would break my heart if you caught a cold while taking me out," she said. "Sorry if I sound like your mum, but I want you to be healthy. You're special to me. I care about you." Sappho paused when they got to the door. Before he could open it for her, she whispered in his ear. "It'll be my treat."
Now Severus was shivering again, but it was for an entirely different reason. One of these days -- after they had been going out a while longer -- he might have to just tell Sappho what whispering in his ear like that did to him. Finding himself quite unable to form a coherent reply, he merely nodded, smiled, and opened the door for her. The decor that greeted them inside the cafe was, in a word, hideous. All pink and lace and doilies and things that would have normally made him want to retch, if he hadn't already been in such an incredibly good mood.
He squeezed Sappho about the shoulders and steered her toward an empty booth in a secluded corner. A few couples were already there, in various states of spooning, and they didn't seem to notice the new additions. "Do you want any particular type of tea?" he asked Sappho quietly, before Madam Puddifoot came bustling over to their table.
"Darjeeling would be nice," Sappho breathed. She removed her pelisse and sat down at the booth, scooting most of the way over to give Severus room. Setting her muff and hat between herself and the wall, she took a tentative breath. They might be kissing in a matter of minutes. She could hardly stand the excitement.
After stripping off his cloak, Severus joined her shortly, sliding into the booth and scooting as close as he dared, with the proprietor's approaching. He draped his cloak over his legs and began to remove his gloves, wondering if Sappho would be put out if he ordered for them both. That would be the easiest way to discourage her from buying him an inordinate amount of things.
Sappho moved closer to him. She didn't bother trying to be as discreet about touching her leg to his as she had been the first time they sat together, nor did she attempt to hide taking hold of Severus' hand, even though Madam Puddifoot had just reached their table. His hand was as cold as ice. Clearly, his dragonhide gloves hadn't been warm enough, no matter what he said, but Sappho wasn't hurt at his fib so much as the fact that he couldn't afford proper gloves. She sandwiched his hand between both of hers to warm his skin, at least until their drinks arrived.
"One coffee and one cup of Darjeeling," Severus said when Madam Puddifoot pulled out her pad. She scribbled down their order, nodding to them both, and turned to head back to the kitchen.
"And two scones," Sappho squeaked before Madam Puddifoot had the chance to walk away. "I'm getting a mite peckish," she whispered, close to Severus' ear. She hoped buying him a scone in addition to coffee wouldn't upset him. Obviously he was touchy about his lack of funds if he would lie to her about his gloves, but she wanted to take care of him. Surely he wouldn't object to being doted on, since he did seem to like her well enough?
It's just a scone, Severus thought, trying not to scowl. Learn to accept gifts gracefully. But it wasn't just a scone, really. It was a reminder of how far above him Sappho was socially, and how soon would it be before she tired of buying her poor, working-class boyfriend scones and coffee and other things? How soon would it be before she tired of him, altogether? "Ah ... thank you," he finally forced himself to whisper, hoping he didn't sound as dejected as he suddenly felt.
She studied his face as they sat, waiting for their drinks. He looked angry. Sappho was afraid she'd done something wrong, but wasn't sure what. "Is something the matter, Severus?" she asked in a timid, breathy voice.
It was only a moment later that Madam Puddifoot returned. On her tray was the coffee, tea, scones, milk, clotted cream, jam, and butter. Sappho thanked the woman before helping herself to her tea and scone.
Despite how quietly Sappho had spoken, Severus felt his head snap upright. He wasn't being a very good date again, was he? At this rate, he was going to run her off long before she grew tired of him, wasn't he? Swallowing and licking his lips, he looked up and shook his head. "No -- everything's fine," he lied, attempting a smile. And now he thought about it, the scones smelt very good, and he couldn't really fault her for buying him one, if she was hungry. It would have been rude to eat one in front of him, wouldn't it? She was too kind to do something like that.
Sappho stirred some milk into her tea. Though she blew the steam off, it was still a little too hot. She sat it aside and started on her scone. The jam and cream melted together nicely in a delicious swirl. Her first bite was a bit too big and she had to remind herself to be more lady-like in front of Severus.
Once Sappho had let go of his hand, Severus added three lumps of sugar to his coffee, stirred, and buttered himself a scone. As soon as he was done with that, and Sappho's hand was free again, he reached over, interlaced his fingers with hers, and smiled -- more genuinely, this time. He certainly didn't want to put her off him by being melancholy. And he really was glad they'd come here. It was much warmer, and cosy, and he could hold her hand without having to worry that he might have to have his fingers amputated.
"Do you like it?" she asked. Now that her tea had cooled, she was able to wash down the scone. Sappho squeezed his hand gently after she had a few sips. "Your hand is still cold. Is there anything else I can do to warm you?"
Severus choked on a bite of scone when Sappho asked if there was anything else she could do to warm him. That was a loaded question, if ever there was one. In fact, he could think of several things she could do to warm him off the top of his head, but if he mentioned any of them, he probably would have been slapped. Shaking his head, he washed the bite down with a drink of coffee and then, after a small coughing fit, managed to speak. "I'll be all right in a bit, I'm sure." Smiling, he gave her hand a squeeze.
She blushed and grinned at him. "All right, then. I just wanted to make sure," she whispered. Sappho gazed at his lips. Was he going to kiss her any time soon? Maybe after he finished eating. To encourage him, she took two more bites and another sip. That was when an idea occurred to her.
Once before, Severus had thought he'd caught Sappho staring at his mouth. This time, he was sure of it. He had a momentary urge to bring his left hand up to his mouth to cover his teeth, but he managed to resist. He also very nearly asked what she was looking at, feeling a little bit defensive all of the sudden, but then he reminded himself that Sappho thought he was dishy, in spite of his ugly teeth. She wasn't about to start taunting him in the middle of Madam Puddifoot's, was she? His eyes widened ever so slightly when he suddenly worked out why she had been staring at his mouth -- the other day, as well as just now: she wanted him to kiss her. That's why they were here, wasn't it? It certainly wasn't for the wretched decor or the pitiful scones...
Sappho finished her scone as quickly as she could without making a complete pig of herself. She followed that by drinking most of her remaining tea in one swig. There was barely a sip left before it was down to the dregs. She drank that carefully, then swirled the cup around three times in her left hand before turning it upside down in the saucer to drain. After that, she lifted and rotated the cup. "Hmm," she said as she examined the tealeaves.
Severus scooted closer, putting his arm around Sappho's shoulders, so that he could take the cup from her hand. "Here -- let me." Then he raised an eyebrow. "That is, if you were serious about helping me with my Divination?" Truth be told, he couldn't care less about learning Divination, even with such a pretty tutor, but he thought that he ought to keep up the pretense, at least. Frowning slightly, Severus examined the lumpy mess of wet leaves lining the cup, and, of course, he saw nothing but a lumpy mess of wet leaves. But what he actually saw was unimportant.
Clearing his throat, he cast around for anything he could remember about reading tealeaves at the beginning of third year. "I see the sun, which -- if I recall correctly -- means that there is romance on the horizon. In fact..." He turned the cup this way and that, cocking his head to the side, as well -- for effect. "I think I see a kiss in your immediate future." Replacing the cup on the saucer, Severus turned his head to face Sappho and licked his lips nervously. What if he'd been wrong? He decided to take his cue from how she reacted to his 'reading' before going any further.
Her first thought was that the sun meant great happiness, not romance. She had opened her mouth to correct him, but she soon snapped out of it. Severus said there was a kiss in her immediate future... His arm was around her. He was licking his lips and looking at her as if he expected her to say something very important. It's finally going to happen, she thought. "I think you're right," she breathed. Sappho then allowed her eyes to sink shut as she pursed her lips.
Well, that was certainly a good sign. Severus licked his lips again, for they had suddenly gone very dry, and brought his left hand -- now free of the teacup -- up to lightly stroke his fingertips along Sappho's cheek. He could do this. He'd read about kissing, after all. Surely it couldn't be all that difficult? Though he was tempted to steal a glance around the shop at the other couples for pointers, he managed to resist the urge.
He moved his head in slowly, until his nose was just touching Sappho's, and only then did he risk closing his eyes. Otherwise, he might have put her eye out with his hideous great honker. From there, he supposed it was instinct that took over, because the next thing he knew, both his lips had closed around Sappho's bottom lip, which he was now lightly sucking, and his right hand had somehow slid up the back of her neck and buried itself in her hair.
There was some delay, but eventually he was touching her and kissing her. Sappho felt as if her spine had dissolved. She leaned her weight upon him and moved her right hand up to his shoulder. After a second, she realised she ought to kiss back, lest he think her to be utterly useless. Opening her mouth a little, she did her best to suck his upper lip the same way he was sucking her lower one. It felt incredible and tasted lovely. She thought that she could die happy now, yet she was far too stubborn to give Severus up any time soon.
At first, Severus thought he must be doing something wrong, because Sappho was just sitting there. But then she moved her hand up to his shoulder and her lips parted and... Suddenly, he began to get a little light-headed, which he initially mistook for breathing in too much of her perfume, up close. Soon enough he realised it was because he had forgotten to breathe in general. Rather than release her lips just yet, however, he inhaled through his nose. That made a rather embarrassing, high-pitched whistling sound, which would have been mortifying under normal circumstances, but at the moment, he really didn't care.
She wasn't sure whose nose had whistled, but it wasn't too important. Severus didn't appear to notice, so she wasn't about to call attention to it. Sappho moaned into his mouth and arched her back slightly. Her right hand ventured slowly up to the back of his head as she placed the left one on his side. She let her fingers mingle with his hair before she gently caressed his scalp.
He wouldn't have thought it possible, but somehow Severus had gone from shivering with cold to fairly burning up in under half an hour. Now he understood why this place was so popular, and it certainly had nothing to do with the food. Though their relative positions were a bit untenable for snogging -- with his hand in Sappho's hair and her hand in his -- he found that if he shifted slightly in his seat, with his back closer to the table and pressing Sappho's back up against the booth, it was less awkward. And really, he didn't want to stop, now they'd started. Even breathing took a back seat to this, as he was poignantly reminded by another sharp nose whistle.
Sappho heard another nasal squeak. This time she was fairly certain it was Severus, because she had been quite breathless when it happened, in a tizzy over being backed up against the booth. She thought about trying to lie on her back and pulling him down on top of her, but decided against it. He was apt to think her a horrid tart if she did anything that brazen in public. Not to mention, they'd likely get thrown out of the establishment. Such a thing was probably taboo at this stage, as well. This was only their second date, and the first time he'd taken her out some place. So instead of being awfully lewd, she slid her left hand up to lightly rub his shoulder blade.
The second high-pitched whistle was enough to convince Severus that it was no good: he would have to stop kissing Sappho in order to breathe properly. Perhaps there was some way to both snog and breathe, but he hadn't discovered it just yet. When he did pull back, his face was burning and he was panting slightly, and he was also fairly sure that would have happened whether he could breathe properly or not. He wasn't sure if it would be considered rude to be panting in her face, with his lips mere inches from hers. To cover the embarrassment of not quite knowing what to do, post-kiss, he said the first thing that popped into his mind. "I told you I was rubbish at Divination."
"But you got it right," she suspired. Her eyes were heavy and dreamy. "I can't remember the last time I did a reading that spot on." Seeing how flushed Severus was gave her a great burst of confidence. He must have really enjoyed it. Sappho grinned and emitted a coy giggle. She stayed close him, idly twirling a strand of his hair around her index finger.
Severus couldn't help sniggering. "But I wasn't reading anything. I was -- making it all up." He very nearly said "pulling it out of my arse," but he managed to stop himself just in time. Somehow he didn't think Sappho would appreciate his (normally) foul language. When she began to twirl his hair around her finger, his eyes sunk shut and he sighed. It felt very nice, and it finally occurred to him that he ought to tell her so. "That feels nice," he whispered, tilting his head into her caress.
"To be honest, that was my intention all along. I was about to say I saw an image of two people kissing, but you took the cup away before I could work up the nerve. Not that I'm complaining. My whole life has been leading up to this. I just hope I wasn't horrid at it," she said softly. Sappho hadn't fully caught her breath. Being so close to him seemed to impair her lungs. When Severus voiced his approval of her touching his hair, her smile grew wider still. "Well, I want to make you feel nice. And I do adore your hair. It's wonderful."
Severus started to shake his head, rather than interrupt her, when Sappho said she hoped she hadn't been horrid at kissing. Though seeing as that made her pull his hair, he stopped rather abruptly. "No, you weren't horrid at it," he whispered, suddenly embarrassed. He had no basis for comparison, after all, but he'd liked the way she kissed just fine. He couldn't help frowning a little, however, when said his hair was wonderful. That was usually the thing that drew the most disparaging remarks, apart from his nose. Up until now, he thought she'd been playing with his hair because she thought he might like it (which, of course, he did). He never imagined it was because she just ... liked his hair. "My hair?" he asked, incredulously. "What's wonderful about it?"
"It's just so black and glossy and long. It has this wonderful texture that feels good between my fingers," she purred. "I think it's very dishy. Just like your nose." Sappho emphasised her point by playfully rubbing his nose with her own. She then looked up at Severus again, her gaze full of longing as she whispered to him. "Can we kiss some more?"
Severus was half-tempted to laugh at the ridiculousness of Sappho's thinking his nose was dishy, but something about her expression said she was being entirely sincere. He found that he hadn't the heart to laugh at her. Or say much of anything, really. What was he going to do, stubbornly maintain that his nose was nothing of the sort? Dishy was in the eye of the beholder, after all, wasn't it? And besides that, she then asked him to kiss her some more, and he mentally agreed that he had much better things to do with his mouth just then. Nodding and licking his lips again, he moved in to recapture her lips with his.
She moaned against his lips, pulling him closer to her. Severus smelt so good close up, like sandalwood and lanolin. Maybe he used soap made with those ingredients. Whatever it was, it was driving her mad. Sappho began rubbing her palm all over his back. His robes felt as good as they had always looked. She wished she could crawl up inside them nuzzle her cheek on his bare shoulder.
Somewhere along the way, Severus worked out how to kiss and breathe at the same time (at least, without making his nose whistle), but he pulled back after a few seconds, regardless. He had a question to ask her. "Do you want to go steady?" he whispered, rubbing his nose softly against hers. "With me, I mean?"
Only after he'd asked did the panic set in. What if she said no? What if she laughed? What if she was just ... what was the word, 'slumming'? What if she said he was good enough to snog, but not good enough to have as a boyfriend? He pulled back a little further then, so that he could look Sappho in the eye. His jaw clenched as he tried to keep himself from saying something vastly stupid, or perhaps taking it all back.
Her eyes grew wide as saucers. It took a couple of seconds for what he'd asked to sink in. "Yes! Yes, of course!" she gasped, still not daring to believe her ears. A trickle of uncertainty turned into a tidal wave right then. Sappho bit her lip and lowered her voice. "You want to go steady with me?"
It was all Severus could do not to laugh -- again. They were so much alike, even down to their numerous insecurities. But seeing as laughing would likely hurt Sappho's feelings, he did his best not to, though he couldn't suppress a small grin. "Yes, you," he said, raising an eyebrow as his grin transformed into a smirk. "You haven't seen me snogging anybody else here today, have you?"
"No, but that's not what I was getting at," she murmured. Sappho shrugged her shoulders. "You're the only one I want -- the only one I've ever wanted. But while I've been pining for you, you've been pining for someone else. I can't expect you to give that up any more than I can give you up." She looked off to the side, frowning. "I just want you to be happy."
Severus blinked, frowning, and turned so that his back was against the booth once more. Was he really that transparent? All this time, he thought he'd been so clever with his ruse, and all he'd done was stab Sappho in the back, as well as twist the knife. She didn't deserve that. And yet ... the past few days had been the happiest of his life. He liked her. He really, truly did. Maybe he'd fancied Lily longer, but that didn't mean he fancied Sappho any less.
Attempting to swallow the considerable lump that had just formed in his throat, he nodded. "So, you're going to hold it against me that I fancied somebody else before I started going out with you?" he asked in barely more than a whisper. "Because I'm happy now. Here. With you. Or at least I was, until a moment ago." He shrugged then, laying his arm on the table, and toyed with the handle of his coffee cup. He'd certainly cocked this up, hadn't he?
"I'm sorry I've upset you," she whispered back. "But I don't hold it against you. I just don't want to deny you anything. Your happiness means so much to me." Her eyes were getting quite misty. Sappho let go of his hair in order to take his hand and kiss it. She then held his palm over her heart. "I only want to be with you, but I'll understand if you're not faithful to me. I know men have needs."
Severus blinked again, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Men have needs? What on earth was she talking about? A second later, he put it together: Sappho wasn't attempting to break up with him at all, though that's how it had felt at first. He'd heard the rumours about her father, of course. Supposedly, Himerus Duncannon was an incorrigible playboy who kept several women at his ... disposal ... at any given time, whilst expecting all of them to be completely devoted to him. Apparently, Sappho had taken that to mean all men behaved that way, and she expected him to be no different -- requiring her to be faithful to him, whilst he did whatever he wanted, with whomever he wanted.
The very idea was at once both laughable and hurtful. Lily didn't think of him that way; nor did any other girl he'd ever met. His possibilities for tomcatting around -- whether behind Sappho's back or right under her nose -- were slim to non-existent. The idea was hurtful because ... well, he didn't want to do that to her. Merely looking at her stricken face just then, as she held his hand to her chest, was heart-breaking. In light of that, and the fact that they were both fairly miserable at the moment, he thought it was high time he came clean. After licking his lips, he took a deep breath to summon his courage and turned his hand so that he could grip hers.
"Sappho ... I have to tell you something," he began with a sigh, "though I will fully understand if you never want to speak to me again after I've finished. When you sent me that first anonymous letter, I fully intended to go out with you in order to make--" He neglected saying Lily's name; no need to pour salt in the wound. "--that other person I've been pining for -- jealous. But I don't feel that way any longer. You were right when you said we were a lot alike, and somewhere in the middle of lunch that first day, I stopped thinking about -- her -- at all. I like you a great deal. I fancy you like mad. I asked you to go steady because I don't want to date anybody else. I only want to date you." He shrugged then, a bit helplessly, waiting for her to drop his hand, or slap him, or tell him off, or whatever she was going to do. He deserved it, after all.
Sappho leaned forward to kiss his cheek. She then rested her head on his shoulder, pressing her torso to his. "I just never imagined you would want to be with me more than that co- Evans." She'd almost said, "cow," but caught herself in time. "She's so perfect and I'm nothing. As much as I'd like to make her jealous, I want a long-term relationship with you more. And I'd give you anything you asked for. I feel so deeply for you. I want to be with you!" The tears that had been threatening to fall for several minutes finally arrived, dampening the portion of his robes under her face.
Though Severus felt a twinge of something akin to annoyance when Sappho started to call Lily ... well, something other than 'Evans,' it was fleeting, and soon enough he felt something else entirely -- especially when she said she was nothing. "You aren't nothing," he said, a bit more snappishly than he'd intended. He was only going for stern, after all, but he made a point to say the next bit gently. "I think you're very special, and I think I've told you that before." Raising an eyebrow and smirking, he added, "Besides ... that's my girlfriend you're talking about, so you'd best watch what you say." Before he'd even realised what he'd done, he'd turned his head to plant a light kiss on Sappho's forehead and then leant his head against hers. It just felt so right that he hadn't even thought to stop himself.
When Severus dismissed her assertion that she was nothing, Sappho had hoped he would add that Evans wasn't perfect. He didn't, but her urge to inquire further on the matter was squelched by what he did next. He called her his girlfriend, kissed her forehead, and pillowed his temple upon hers. Sappho felt a pleasant chill that had nothing to do with any sudden drafts in the tea house. She pulled him closer still and went about stroking his hair again. After a moment of quiet cuddling, she released Severus, though she did not move her head from his shoulder. Sappho dabbed her tears with a serviette, then pulled off the claddagh ring from the third finger of her right hand. Inverting it so that the bottom of the heart pointed toward her body, she slid it back on the same finger.
When Sappho released his hand, Severus seized the opportunity to raise his arm, which he draped about her shoulders. He smiled softly when he realised why she had moved and what she was now doing: turning her claddagh ring to say that she was no longer available. Of course, if she'd been as devoted to him as she said, for as long as she said, she'd never really been available to begin with, had she?
"I'm sorry I made you cry," he whispered, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. "As far as second dates go, I doubt this one will be remembered to posterity as one of the best, but I've certainly enjoyed spending time with you today. Of course, your first letter arrived on my birthday, so that would be difficult to top."
She shook her head as best she could with it still pressed against him. "No, it's been a wonderful date. I'll never forget it. Our first time out, my first kiss, you wanting to be exclusive -- I'm truly happy about it. I only cried because I hurt you, so let me apologise. I'm sorry," she said. "For that as well as not getting you a proper birthday gift. I didn't know it was your birthday."
Sappho had almost blurted out that she loved him, but bit her tongue in time. It was too soon. Severus might feel smothered and call it off. Men didn't like being rushed when it came to relationships. That was what she'd always heard. St Valentine's Day was coming up. Maybe she could hold off till then. Or he might even tell her first... The thought made her sigh blissfully. She lifted her head and pecked him on the nose. He wanted her. For the first time in her life, she felt truly important.
Though he frowned when Sappho apologised for hurting him, it was all Severus could do not to snigger a moment later when she kissed the end of his nose. He didn't think she would appreciate his laughing all that much, however, and so he managed to restrain himself. "It's all right," he whispered, turning his head to peck her temple this time, and then rubbing his cheek against hers. Hopefully he wouldn't coat her skin in too much oil. "There's no way you could have known it was my birthday, so I wouldn't have expected you to get me anything. Your letter was more than enough. And I -- ah -- think we hurt each other, actually, but..." He trailed off with a slight shrug. "Perhaps we should simply make a formal agreement not to do that any more? Ah, hurt each other, I mean." Frowning again, he stopped talking before he said something else inordinately stupid. An agreement not to hurt each other? Could he be any more ridiculous?
"All right, then. Well... I didn't do it on purpose, and if it happens again, I'm sure it'll be another accident. All the same, I'll try my best not to," she said. As she reciprocated the cheek-nuzzling, Sappho unconsciously rocked side to side, causing the both of them to sway ever so slightly.
Her mind began to fill with ideas. What else could they do while in Hogsmeade? She could pass on Scrivenshaft's, for the few things she wanted to buy now would most likely not be in that shoppe. She had wanted to get him some proper gloves ever since she'd felt how cold his hands were earlier, and since his birthday had just passed, that would be the perfect excuse. "Oh, Severus, would you mind stopping by Gladrags with me on the way back? I want to get a book bag like you have. That way we can hold hands on the way to all our classes."
Severus wished he could say that he hadn't hurt her on purpose, as well, but he couldn't, because he had. He'd put into action a calculating plan to use her in order to win another girl's affections, without any real regard as to Sappho's feelings. So, his hurting her wasn't accidental by any stretch of the imagination. At the same time, however, he really hadn't meant to hurt her, and now that she was a real, flesh-and-blood person to him -- and not simply some words on a page -- he was determined never to hurt her, or use her, again.
"I'd like that," he said quietly, turning his head to smile down at her. Just then, he realised it wasn't entirely clear that he meant he'd like to hold her hand on the way to lessons from now on. He really couldn't care less to visit Gladrag's and see all the latest wizarding fashions that he most certainly could not afford, but for Sappho's sake, he'd tolerate the wretched place.
Sappho smiled back at him. "Do you want to go now or would you like to stay here a little longer?" she asked. They had finished their warm drinks and scones, as well getting in a great snog. There was no real reason they needed to stay in this silly place that looked like a pink powder puff had exploded in it. "Unless you'd like more coffee or something. I won't mind."
Though he wasn't entirely anxious to go back out into the cold, Severus nodded. "I'd like to go in a moment -- on one condition: that you agree to sit with me by the common room fire when we get back to school -- at least until it's time for supper. All right?" Before Sappho had a chance to answer, however, he put his hand to her face, stroking her cheek with his thumb, and bent his head to kiss her once more. "And if we run out of things to talk about, we can always do some more of that," he whispered, pulling back ever so slightly and smirking.
Sappho gave a little whimper of disappointment when Severus pulled away. "I'd be happy to sit with you by the fire, but could we do some more of that even if we don't run out of things to talk about?"
"Certainly," Severus answered, rubbing his nose lightly against hers. "But no homework. There'll be time enough for that tomorrow. Today, I just want to spend time with you." He pecked her lips softly and then pulled back further, glancing quickly around the tea house with a mock-disdainful expression. The place was hideous, of course, but still ... now it would always have a special place in his heart. "I don't know about you, but I think I've had my fill of pink frills for the afternoon. Shall we be on our way?"
"Yes, let's," Sappho chirruped, reaching for her pelisse. She pulled her coin purse out of the front pocket and left eight Sickles on the table to pay for their drinks and scones. As she waited for Severus to stand, she put her coin purse away and pinned her hat back on.
Severus stood and pulled his cloak over his shoulders. He tried to ignore the wound to his pride as he watched her leave her money on the table, though it didn't bother him as much now as the idea had earlier. One day, he told himself, he'd be able to repay her. In the meantime, he could repay her with kindness. A little kindness went a long way, after all. Once he'd fastened his cloak, he put his gloves back on and then held out his hand to help Sappho up.
Sappho took hold of his hand, grinning from ear to ear. He was such an irrepressible gentleman that she could scarcely believe it. Whoever had said chivalry had died had obviously never met Severus Snape. She put her pelisse back on and, after looping her arm through his, stuck her hand back into her muff. Before long at all, they were heading back up the side street toward the main road and soon found themselves entering Gladrags.
Out of one wretched establishment and into another. But Severus really couldn't complain. He had a pretty girl on his arm, and all the patrons of the shoppe turned to look at them when they entered. Though he knew it couldn't be so, he felt as if he'd just grown two whole inches. And even if he had no wish to browse the racks of clothing and accessories, he had more than enough to occupy his eyes. His gaze never left Sappho's face, in fact, as she began to look through the assortment of school bags the shoppe had for sale.
After a few minutes of searching, Sappho managed to narrow the list of possibilities down to three: a purple crocheted bag with shoulder strap lined with purple cotton, a plain black leather satchel that greatly resembled the one Severus owned, and a black leather rucksack with the Slytherin crest embroidered on the back in silk thread. "Which of these three do you like best?" she asked him. Since he was going to see her carrying her new bag every day, she didn't want to get one he didn't like.
"The one I've already purchased, obviously," Severus answered, raising an eyebrow and smirking. "Though I think the purple one suits you most." After a second, he added, "Here." Reaching down, he removed Sappho's muff from where she had it stuck on her left hand whilst looking through the bags. "I'll hold this. Why don't you go and have a look in the mirror?" He nodded toward the wall mirror at the back of the shoppe and gave her a soft smile.
Sappho giggled, although she wasn't entirely sure if it was because of Severus' joke or the way he raised his eyebrow, or both. After years of observation, she had concluded that most people simply didn't understand his sense of humour, but she thought he was just the bee's knees. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, Sappho walked toward the rear of the shoppe, and took in her reflection. But that wasn't nearly as interesting to her as seeing Severus' smile in the mirror. She was tempted to model the bag provocatively, but she didn't think she'd be able to bring that off without giggling, which would ruin the illusion. She returned to his side shortly, her face a little flushed. "You have a very good eye," she whispered breathlessly. Of course, now her mind was focused on the display of gloves by the till. How would she be able to buy Severus some gloves without offending him?
"Ah, thank you," Severus said quietly, with a shrug. "I merely thought the purple brought out the colour of your eyes." Suddenly nervous at being complimented again, he tried to cover with another joke. "That's why I have a black one, myself," he said, raising his eyebrow again. Well, that joke fell amazingly flat, and now, in addition to being nervous, he was starting to blush, as well.
"But my eyes aren't purple," Sappho protested, giggling again.
"I know they aren't," Severus said quickly, shaking his head as they made their way toward the front of the shoppe. "They're hazel green, but sometimes they look blue, depending on what you're wearing. And purple makes them look pure green." He stopped then, frowning, when he realised he was starting to babble.
"Aww," Sappho couldn't help saying, touched that he'd been paying such close attention to her eyes. "Even I hadn't noticed that."
"Well, when your eyes are as boring as mine, you tend to notice other people's more," Severus said, shrugging, and by now his face was beginning to burn.
"Boring?" Sappho protested, and this time, there wasn't a trace of a giggle in her tone. "Your eyes are beautiful. They're certainly not boring."
"Ah ... thank you," Severus said, but that was all he could manage. By now, he was sure his face had turned fairly purple. He was hoping for a change of subject, and soon, but he was also certain he wouldn't be able to think of one. Instead of trying, he turned toward a display of woolen gloves in the various House colours, with crests embroidered on them. He set down the muff and began to browse through the gloves whilst waiting for Sappho to pay for her bag.
That was a good sign: Severus was looking at the very gloves she had planned to buy him. He was also obviously embarrassed, though she thought he really had no reason to be. Perhaps a change of subject was in order. "I was thinking of getting a pair of those, as well," she said brightly, smiling at him. "Do you like them?"
"They're very nice," Severus said, exhaling a relieved breath at having something else to talk about. "And thick. They look exceedingly warm." He frowned then, wondering why Sappho would be buying gloves when she had a muff and quite clearly didn't need them.
"Why don't you try them on?" she said, fairly holding her breath and grinning. She knew he was more than brilliant enough to conclude that she was buying the gloves for him, but she was hoping he wouldn't put it together until after she'd paid for them. He started to frown, however, and she knew he'd already worked it out. "Please, Severus?" she added in a timid whisper.
"No, Sappho," Severus said quietly, frowning worse. "I appreciate the gesture more than I can say, but they're much too expensive. Coffee and a scone is one thing, but this?" He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't accept them."
"Not even as a belated birthday gift?" Sappho pleaded then, hoping she wouldn't tear up. When he started to shake his head once more, she took both his hands in hers and held them to her chest, dropping her voice to a barely audible whisper. "I know you're too proud to accept them, but please -- as a favour to me -- return them after we've made it back to school?"
"All right," Severus whispered after a moment, nodding. How could he refuse when she put it that way? "They're yours, and I'm just borrowing them." He never imagined his pride and Sappho's concern for him would be in direct conflict so quickly. But then again, his hands having been so cold was why she'd suggested going in to Madam Puddifoot's in the first place -- even if they had both also wanted an excuse to snog. "I'll, ah, need my hands back, if I'm going to try them on," he said finally, and somehow, he managed a smirk. Once Sappho had released his hands, he took hold of hers and raised them briefly to his lips before he released them again to pull off his dragonhide gloves. He selected a pair that fit snugly and then handed them over for her to buy. "Here you are."
She grinned as he handed the gloves to her. Retrieving her muff, she set the gloves and the bag down on the counter. Sappho then took out her coin purse and awaited the cashier's total. It was three Galleons and fifteen Sickles. Not having that many Sickles on her, she paid with four Galleons. After putting away the two Sickles in change, she slung the bag over one shoulder and gave Severus the gloves. "Happy birthday... My darling," she said, wondering if he would mind the pet name.
"I thought we just agreed that I was only borrowing them?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow, but he smirked a second later so that she would know he was joking. "Thank you." And he stood a little taller, again, at her having called him her 'darling.' He'd never been anybody's darling before, and he imagined he could easily get used to the idea. Once the clerk had removed the anti-theft charms, Severus pulled the gloves on, replaced his dragonhide gloves in the pocket of his cloak, and slipped his arm about Sappho's waist. "I suppose you've now graduated from 'merch' to 'serch,'" he said, smiling softly, as he pulled open the door for her.
Sappho replaced her hands in the muff once they were outside again. "Oh? And what does 'serch' mean?" she asked in a giddy lisp. "I'm growing rather fond of your native tongue, but then I've long been fond of all things Welsh." She pressed her cheek to his shoulder and whimpered. Severus apparently did not object to her calling him 'darling,' which was nearly as gratifying as their first kiss had been. "Do you still want to go to Scrivenshaft's, or would you rather go back so we can sit by the fire?" she whispered.
Though he knew it was wrong to say something like this, and it would rather ruin Sappho's impression that he was a gentleman, Severus found that he couldn't help himself. The opening was simply too good to pass up. "I'm growing rather fond of your tongue, as well. Oh -- sorry," he added with a smirk. "Missed the 'native' part, didn't I?"
Her face went red when he said that. The thought had crossed her mind, but she didn't dare mention it. "Oh, thank you," she said in a half-giggle. Sappho was unable to meet his gaze, settling instead on his chin. That smirk was too over-powering. She would have swooned for sure. "I like yours, too," she murmured.
"Thank you," Severus said, still smirking at how red Sappho had gone, and he bent his head to peck her temple. He probably shouldn't have enjoyed embarrassing her like that -- his conscience kept protesting about how very wrong it was -- but she'd turned such a lovely shade of red. "In answer to your questions," he continued in a whisper, close to her ear, "'serch' means sweetheart, and I'd rather skip Scrivenshaft's today, if it's all the same to you."
When Severus pecked her temple, Sappho shivered, though it was not from the cold. She nodded when he said he'd rather not go to Scrivenshaft's and then turned her head to bury her face in his chest. Her boyfriend's chest. Severus Snape was her boyfriend, and he'd just called her his sweetheart. That was worth all the blushing in the world. She couldn't imagine being any happier than she was right now. And they were heading to the castle where they would sit by the fire in the Slytherin common room and talk, or maybe even snog, for the remainder of the afternoon. She knew now that she could die happy, although she still didn't want to give Severus up. In fact, if she did die, she would simply have to come back and keep him company as a ghost.