Amalie Zeller will make your mouth malleable. (lafilledanse) wrote in find_horcruxes, @ 2010-03-14 03:33:00 |
|
|||
She had woken up early that day to clean, though there really hadn't been a need for the extra effort. Her flat was usually very well kept, and what had started out as a vigorous clean had quickly turned into a general tidying, when she realized her insecurity over what was (or wasn't) going on between she and Severus wasn't an excuse to act like a lunatic. So instead, she had made herself a late breakfast and then spent a few hours reading, and then by the mid-afternoon was in her bath, trying to soothe her nerves by a long soak and a good read. The warm water did go a long way to calming her nerves, and by the time she emerged at four, she was focused and clear-headed. She used the next two hours to make herself pretty, using the well-practiced cosmetic charms that she used for work that gave her a healthy glow without looking too made up, then found an appropriate dress for the evening--pretty, but casual. Non-threatening, she hoped. One that didn't scream "please do something to let me know where this is going so that I can stop being tortured with insecurity." Or. at least she hoped it didn't. When she was finally ready, she went into the kitchen and began to put together the ingredients needed for the sauce, a recipe book open on the counter. Flicking her wand, she set the knife to chopping the vegetables and went to put the pot on the stove, pouring in a jar of ready-made sauce to set to boiling. Yes, she knew it was cheating, but she did want this to come out well, and she was going to add to it, so it was like homemade, anyway. When she was done, she sent the tomatoes, oregano, and onions into the pot with another flicking, stepping back to survey her handiwork before glancing at her watch. Half six. He should be here any moment. Severus had been fighting with himself most of the day. The general question he seemed to be asking was, what in Merlin's name was he doing. The answer was, he was continuing to see Amalie without having any clue what she was thinking, what he was thinking, what was smart... Well actually, no, that latter one he knew and it was not showing up to her flat at half six on a Saturday evening to eat pasta with her, but he also found himself hard pressed to care. He tucked the bag with the bread and the pasta under his arm and he raised his hand to knock on the door. As he waited, he couldn't help a bit of a smile as he remembered just how pretty she'd looked last weekend at the library. The dress had been absolutely gorgeous and she'd been gorgeous in it, and perhaps his earlier thought had not been incorrect. The fact that he was as worried about her as he was had to mean that he cared at least somewhat. Did it mean he fancied her? It was far from the same feeling he got when he thought about Lily, but it was just so different he wasn't certain he could compare them. He reached up to run a hand nervously through his hair. She turned toward the door at the knock, and took a moment to carefully smooth her hair (though she wore it loose, again, not wanting to seem too formal) and check to make sure nothing had splattered on her dress. She didn't want to appear eager, so she walked slowly across the sitting room, pleased the smell of the sauce was already wafting through the air. It made the flat seem inviting, and she wanted him to feel welcome. Comfortable. Relaxed. Relaxation was definitely something their relationship lacked, though they were both getting better at it, she hoped. She opened the door with a smile, embarrassed that her heart jumped into her throat a bit at the sight of him. It didn't do to like someone this much when she had no idea if he felt the same way. Or even a shade of the same way. She wasn't sure how to greet him--a handshake was awkward and too formal, a hug probably too familiar. Compromising, she put her hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss him quickly on the cheek, pulling away before it could seem like she was lingering. Or waiting. "Hello, Severus. Please come in," she said, stepping back so he could step into the flat proper, closing the door behind him. "You look very... uh, dashing." "Oh, um, thanks," his cheeks felt rather warmer than he thought they should have considering it was a simple complement really, but he wasn't certain that it was the complement that had set his cheeks so warm. It had likely been the kiss on his cheek which, while chaste and very simple, had left him wanting the feeling of her lips against his skin to linger. He stepped into the flat and shut the door behind him, making certain that the wards were set before he turned around. "I brought the bread," he raised the bag so that she could see it. "Where should I put things? And I have pasta, which we should attempt cooking, or I should, really - although if you've ever cooked pasta before it might not be a bad idea to oversee that attempt." And as he looked at her, he realised that he hadn't mentioned anything about her looks, which if he were being perfectly honest were very nice. "Whatever you've been cooking smells delicious and you look lovely." She smiled at the way he raised the bag, like a little boy showing he had done his required assignment for the day. Everything about him was just so endearing, she found it hard to contain herself at times. At his compliment, her cheeks tinged a delicate pink and she looked down at her dress, smoothing her hand over the skirt and resisting the urge to say something nonchalant like oh, this old thing? "Thank you, on both accounts." She gestured toward the kitchen, reaching out to take the bag from him. "The bread can go in the oven, so it will be nice and warm for later. And the pasta we can wait on, since I want to let the sauce simmer for awhile before we set the water to boiling." She crossed the room then, stepping into the kitchen and waiting for him to follow her. "I cheated a bit on the sauce, I hope you don't mind. But if you want to chop some more herbs, we can add them to boost the flavour a bit?" Nervously, she tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned against the counter, trying to keep her hands from fluttering about. "And, well, there's wine if you'd like some?" Severus followed her towards the kitchen and smiled at the smell which was much more potent in the kitchen, but pleasantly so, and he stood awkwardly for a moment before stepping over to stand beside her. "I'd like a glass of wine, actually, thanks Amalie." He could sip on that slowly, and it would give him something to do outside of chopping herbs and standing about awkwardly. "And where are these herbs that I should chop up? I think I've done my share of chopping things up in my lifetime," he gave her a half grin. "So I'm pretty certain I can handle chopping up herbs if you point me in the direction of the knife, the cutting board, and the herbs themselves." If he had something to occupy his hands, he wouldn't be so nervous. At least he was pretty certain that this was true. He shouldn't be nervous, they'd been out together twice, and conversations with her in the journals were always, well if not entirely comfortable certainly pleasant, so there was no reason for the nerves jangling about in his stomach -- particularly considering he was not even certain that he- but that argument was beginning to wear away with the realisation that he kept stealing glances, and in the back of his mind he was still vaguely focused on the tiny, insignificant peck on the cheek she'd given him earlier. But it didn't feel insignificant to him -- he couldn't say when he'd ever had someone greet him like that. Did she fancy him? She smiled up at him when he stood beside her, trying to keep her expression friendly and not simpering. "Just think of it like a potion and everything should be fine," she teased, wanting to take his hand but too afraid to slide her hand over the scant few inches that separated them. Yes, she was a first-rate coward, but there was really nothing she could do about it. Indicating the cutting board next to the stove, she turned and went on tiptoe to lean over the stove, taking some scissors to cut basil and thyme from the little pots that grew on the sill. Turning on the faucet, she washed the leaves and then handed the damp bundles to him, trying to ignore the electricity that went through her as her fingers brushed his palm. "And there's garlic in the container next to the board as well." While he occupied himself with that, she picked up her wand again and went to the icebox, opening the door and extracting the now-chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc. It was her favourite type, especially for when she was spending the evening reading, and she thought the acidity would go well with the tomatoes. Setting it on the counter, she tapped her wand against the neck and muttered a decorking charm, catching the cork as it popped out and then pouring them each a glass, holding one out to him as she turned to watch him work. Severus couldn't help but smile at her light teasing. If he thought of it as preparation for a potion he was certain he'd be able to manage it quite well enough. And even if he didn't use cooking herbs frequently for cooking, most of them made an appearance at some point or another in a potion so it wasn't as if he hadn't any experience with them. Therefore it was easy enough to take the stems, and set himself to actually chopping the leaves into smaller bits that would be perfect to add to the sauce. The garlic though was a different matter, and he waited a moment to start in with that. If this were a date, and he was lying to himself if he thought that this was anything but a date, then he didn't particularly want his hands to smell like garlic the rest of the evening. Small things he typically never thought of when he was working with potions, but he wasn't certain Amalie would appreciate the smell of stale garlic should he actually work up the nerve to trace a finger down her cheek like the thought that had occurred to him only a moment before. After a sip of the wine, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the garlic, preparing it similarly to how he would for a potion that took garlic, and once that was done, he picked up the knife and started in on it. He would have to hope that scourgify worked, he supposed, because if cooking was anything like potions, there really was no substitute for doing it by hand. "It was really good of you to come to the library gala thing," he gave her a shy smile. "It was good to see you there, even if I had just seen you the evening before." He wondered momentarily if that sounded weird to state it like that, so he added, "I think I could get quite used to talking to you every evening." She took a sip of her wine as well, and then, despairing of anything to do and not wanting to stand around staring at him, she went to the pot and began to stir it slowly, holding the lid over it at an angle to catch any bursts from the bubbles now breaking on the surface. The kitchen smelled like a proper Italian home now, and she was pleased that her sauce cheat seemed to have worked and was producing a decent product. The last thing she would want to do was make Severus sick tonight--she didn't want him forever associating spending time with her with being sick to his stomach. When he was ready with the herbs, she held the lid aside to allow him to dump them in, stirring to mix as he did. "We make a good team," she commented softly, too shy to meet his eyes. When the herbs were done she watched him begin to prepare the garlic, a little amused at how meticulous he was about it. Well, she supposed one didn't become a Potions Master just be throwing things together and hoping they worked. "It was my pleasure, I assure you. It was a lovely evening," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear again as she stole a sidelong look at him. His comment made her flush, but her smile was definitely too pleased to indicate anything but pleasure. "Could you now?" she asked coyly, refraining from reminding him that the sometimes did talk every night over the journals. As well as she liked that, she wouldn't mind if he was referring to something more. Severus finished the garlic and then moved to the sink to wash his hands as thoroughly as he could, turning around to give her a bit of a smile at her response which was certainly bordering on flirtatious and perhaps he did fancy her after all because he had to admit that the response was flattering, and certainly somewhat encouraging and was not remotely changing his mind about wanting to continue to spend time with her. "Perhaps," he said matching her coyness as reached for the cutting board so that he could put the garlic in to the sauce as well. Once that was done he reached for the spoon to stir it. He stirred thoroughly out of what was almost habit to make certain that the ingredients were not likely to stick to the bottom of the pan. He finished stirring and now he reached for the glass of wine finally. The sip he took was small, and despite a typical tendency to not look people in the eye when he was talking to them, he looked up to meet hers and he forced himself to relax a bit. She wasn't likely to bite him, and he really needed to be comfortable to the point where he could think of some way to ask her some of the things that he really needed to find out. Political things - and things about the war - things that Severus had appreciated not talking to her about, but couldn't help but feel that he needed to broach and he needed to do it before the thought of cutting off the possibility of whatever it was they had made him wince any more than it already did. "Which of the displays did you like the best? And don't feel obligated to say mine just cause I'm standing here. I can certainly live with you liking someone else's better." She watched him wash his hands and smiled, digging into a drawer until she found a stainless steel serving spoon. Reaching out, she took his hands and pulled them toward her, rubbing the convex side of the spoon against his skin. "It removes odours," she explained, peeking up at him through her eyelashes then looking down, unable to look at him for too long while she was holding his hands like this. When she was done, she released him and stepped back, taking a sip from her glass to calm her suddenly pounding heart. "I liked yours quite a bit, and would have felt the same if the presenter wasn't half as charming." She took another drink from her glass, needing to fortify herself after that remark. "The display of original poems was amazing, and I quite enjoyed Mr. Nott's speech, though I sometimes find his books tedious." Severus was momentarily startled by her touch, but upon further explanation and a meaningful one at that, he tried not to think too much of it. Her skin was soft and he was close enough to notice that she smelled good, and when she released him he half wanted to reach for her to come back again. "Clever," was all he could manage in return to her comment regarding the spoon because anything else would have likely given too much away and as she spoke he reached for his glass as well. "I love the poems," he agreed, feeling a bit more even keel after the very purposeful act of a sip of the wine. "It's amazing to me how much Brookstanton has, and it bothers me to think how much was lost. We were able to recover most, but some things are gone forever now. And Mr Nott's books are - well, he is a bit wordy isn't he? They seem thoroughly researched though," he leaned back against the counter now and now that they were not quite so close together took the opportunity to really observe her. "Favourite wizarding historian then, if not Mr Nott?" "It is tragic. I can't... I can't comprehend what would motivate someone to terrorism in the first place, but what could possibly be accomplished by setting fire to a library?" she asked, shaking her head in disgust. She couldn't disagree with vigilantism in general, but neither side could benefit from destroying parts of their own history. It was wasteful, and wanton. Pressing her lips together, she realized she was on a tirade and suddenly looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. It's obviously something I feel passionately about." "I enjoy Bathilda Bagshot's works. I find her to be very reasonable, and she keeps things pithy, whereas Nott can get caught up in the... politics of Wizard history, at times." 'It's all right," Severus shook his head almost instantly not wanting to discourage her tirade. "I don't disagree with your passion, and frankly I'd be more bothered if you weren't disturbed by it." Likely more than any other conversation they'd had this was getting closer to something that resembled her feelings about the war and he desperately wanted to know that -- wanted to know if there was any possible way she'd not throw him out of her flat immediately if she knew that he were a Death Eater, or perhaps more accurately a spy for the Death Eaters who wasn't always very helpful to the vigilantes he was attempting to help. And that thought had led very nicely into the next -- why not use the history books as some sort of guide into the topic. "I suppose that's a fair assessment," he said thoughtfully, reaching for the wine and taking a sip. "I think some politics is always going to be involved in a study of history -- I mean, right now what we're living through? Someone's going to write this a long time from now, and they're going to take a side, and will it be the entire truth? Well, I imagine that's difficult to say just yet." She leaned her hip against the counter, rolling her glass between her palms for a moment as she considered his questions. "If history is written by the victors, who can say who will be writing this down later?" she said wryly, though there was a note of fatigue in her voice. "I don't think anyone knows the entire truth--most especially not the people who claim to know what's right for everyone else." She exhaled in a long sigh, trying to organize her thoughts into proper expressions. "Sometimes I get very uncomfortable thinking about the state of the world, though I've read enough history to know that this isn't unique. Sometimes it makes me sad, seeing people acting as though this is the end of the world. It isn't--it will end, and it will happen again. History is cyclical." "Every individual has their own bias," he suggested as he looked over at her, trying to figure out whether she was speaking complete truth, or a cautious one. He rather thought complete. Likely he was the only one of them used to speaking in cautious half-truths that skirted the issue entirely. "It's a very practical way of looking at it," he said thoughtfully and he looked down then, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought. "I'm not certain it's a very inspirational one though, as it rather has the effect of making one feel as if one's actions do not matter in any broader context. And perhaps that is not wrong -- perhaps one's actions only matter in a microcosm, with the few people one can touch, or help, and the larger outcomes are - well... I don't know - the bits that are more circular?" "Well of course they do. And I do as well, I'm not some dispassionate observer. But as a student of history it's hard sometimes not to see the greater patterns at work, the ebbs and flows of human nature." She reached up and rubbed her hand against her eyes, hoping she didn't sound utterly pedantic. "I know it may sound terrible--I know this is effecting people in a much more personal way than it has me, that for them, it is forever." She exhaled again, trying to think. "Do you know Mahatma Gandhi? He was a religious and political leader in India, in the first half of the century. He said once that you need to remember that all throughout history, there have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seemed invincible, but in the end they always fall. That's what I try to remember," she said softly, just barely meeting his eyes. "I try to trust my government, and I hope it does what is best for everyone. And I always love my country, and my people, and my culture--which of course means being ready to oppose the government when it is no longer working in the best interest of those things. But not by killing people. Not by blowing up libraries or burning villages or setting werewolves on innocent people or taking the rule of law into my own hands because I am dissatisfied with the system." Well, that seemed to strike firmly against favouring Death Eaters, Severus thought as he listened to her talking. And there was at once a sense of instant relief, followed as well by a sort of uncertainty about what he should do next. If she stood against the Death Eaters, that was a good thing, because at least in principle they were on the same side, but of course it was ever so much more complicated than that because he was still taking the rule of law into his own hands with what he was doing, thus - complicated. And Severus couldn't keep pretending that it wasn't, even if for the moment that's all he wanted to do. "It doesn't really sound that terrible," he said quietly. "It has been my experience, limited though it may be, that people care the most desperately about something that has effected them personally. Someone that has lost someone in this war, or is effected directly in some way -- they're going to have stronger emotions and that may or may not be helpful. Emotional reactions many times are not that helpful, really," he sighed as he said that, reminding himself of the fact because he most certainly had a history of being overly emotional about situations. "I'm sorry, Amalie, I have turned us towards a topic of conversation that is anything but light," he looked up and gave her a half smile, too much at once and he wouldn't be able to think through the pieces of trying to figure out what she might think of his situation, and in truth he wanted her to enjoy her evening. "No, it's inevitable that eventually the topic will come up. Cyclical, remember?" she said, a note of teasing in her voice. She didn't like to talk about politics, because she knew her views were not popular--being, for all intents and purposes, neutral did not sit well with other people. They wanted passion, they wanted you to come down on one side or the other. Good or evil. Nuance was confusing, and so it was distrusted. And usually taken as covert support for the other side. Not that she though Severus thought of her that way, but it was why when she spoke about it, it tended to come out all at once, and self-consciously self-aware. She glanced at her watch, and then back at the pot, reducing the flame to a simmer. "We still have about thirty minutes before we should put the pasta on. Would you like to sit, or is the smell entirely too appetizing in here to be far away from?" Severus grinned at that, and the mood felt suddenly a bit lighter. At least he was fairly certain she didn't approve of what the Death Eaters were doing, and nuance and more details could wait, really. He hadn't given her anything really about his perspective, after all and she deserved a little more than him simply prying her for information the entire evening Besides which, until he could give her a few pieces about him, it was a little unfair. "I suspect the smell will follow us quite enough to ensure that I will be hungry," he laughed briefly. "Let's go sit down." He reached for his glass of wine and pushing away from the counter as he did so. He stepped up beside her and reached for her glass as well, giving her a smile for a moment before he moved back towards her living room, setting both glasses on the small table and turning his full attention back to her. She followed him, and though she was touched that he carried her glass for her, she couldn't help but feel a pang of wanting him to take her hand. Something about holding his hands in her own had felt decidedly right, and she found it disconcerting to think that she was the only one who felt this way. It was fairly obvious that Severus liked her well enough, and she had been hopeful after confessing her feelings to him before, but it seemed that he hadn't taken them as she had meant them. And now they had gone one two outings that had seemed to be obviously dates, but he hadn't kissed her. She knew she was old fashioned, but surely no one was so old-fashioned that they thought there was no kissing one a first date. Or a second date. Or ever. Which meant he must only think of her as a friend, but then why would he act so... un friend-like? She shook her head, trying to dispel these thoughts, and sat beside him, accepting back her glass. "So what did you do today, Severus?" Severus raised an eyebrow with a smile because he couldn't imagine that his day was so interesting that she'd really want to hear about it. It had been a rather typical Saturday after all, work, mostly, except for when he'd gone to pick up their food for this evening. "Well, mostly work," he said simply. "I had the work at the laboratory for most of the day, except for a few hours this morning when I was at Slug & Jiggers doing inventory, which, Merlin only knows has to be the most boring task on the face of the earth. Generally when I'm working there, I'm brewing potions, or something else that's - well, I was going to say useful, but arguably inventory is important, so I suppose I'll settle for interesting anyway. There are a few potions I could brew in my sleep, but most of them require a bit more than that." "Then I flooed home and tried to get dressed so I wouldn't smell like I'd been doing potions all day, and then I came here. Oh, wait, I went to the grocers first, then I came here," he gave her a smile, looking sideways at her. She was so close, and he was noticing again that she smelled good, and her hair looked rather touchable, and to be honest, so did she and it was everything he could do to not reach over and take her hand. To distract himself from the desire to do that, he returned her question to her. "And you? What was your day like?" He seemed to work very hard, and it made her feel oddly proud of him, that he was willing to put so much time into achieving what he wanted. She admired people who didn't rely on other people to get them what they wanted in life--it was a lesson she had learned many years ago from her father. Plus, he had looked downright adorable stirring the sauce together, and she imagined the frown of concentration when he was brewing a potion was equally endearing. She took another drink from her glass and had now finished almost half of her portion, setting it down on the table to keep from warming it with the heat of her hands. "Uneventful. I read this morning, tidied. I tend to be quite lazy on weekends," she admitted, leaving out the hours of primping. He definitely did not need to know that part. He nodded, his eyes on her face as she talked. There were very few moments in his life that he felt that he could consider lazy. The idea seemed nice enough and perhaps one day he'd really be able to feel that. But he needed to get his Potion Mastery first, and the project with Master Bones had been entirely to worthwhile to turn down. The idea of being lazy with her definitely had appeal and he felt his cheeks warm slightly at the images that seemed to bring to the front of his mind. "That sounds nice," he said, glancing down at his hand and then hers. and really, why shouldn't he reach for her hand. He was reasonably certain that she wasn't going to mind. He turned slightly, so that one leg was pulled up under him on the sofa and he could actually face her, and with a sudden decisiveness, he moved his hand forward and slid it over hers. And trying not to show too much how nervous he was, he focused back on her face. "What book or, I suppose books possibly, were you reading then?" Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs as he reached for her hand, though she tried to keep her face as nonchalant as humanly possible. As if it was nothing, she twined her fingers through his slowly, though inside her stomach was doing what amounted to a series of back flips and a conga. This had to mean something. Friends did not go to make dinner at each other's flats and then hold hands. They just didn't. "Well, I read today's Prophet, but only for about five minutes. And then I went back to Charms and Charities, which I'm rereading now for the first time since I was about sixteen," she said, her tone carefully even. Her fingers twined through his, and he rather felt as if he had a dozen canaries in his stomach and he only hoped that he didn't look quite as ridiculous as he felt at the moment. His eyes fell on their hands and his lips twisted into a half smile and he forced his mind back on what they'd been talking about -- or at least he gave it a very good effort. Severus had never read Charms and Charities, but he thought it likely that it was far more cheerful than the Prophet during the current day and age. Except that right now he wasn't certain that even the Prophet could make him dreary, because not only had she not moved her hand away from his, she'd actually slid her fingers between his, which made the entire gesture seem more intimate and rather pleasantly so. "I've got to admit I've never read Charms and Charities," he started, feeling entirely uncertain of where he wanted this conversation to end and that lack of knowing was rather evident in the way the sentence seemed to sort of trail off. He could have asked what it was about, he supposed, but he found himself lacking the words to do so and instead he lifted his eyes to her face, her lips, and back to meet her eyes again. And the thought train that was so distracted by Amalie's actual existence in the room stammered on. "I - um. I'm not even very certain what it's about." She decided then that she quite liked his smile, which was equal parts shy and delighted. He sometimes had a very melancholy look about him, but when he smiled it made the cares seem to melt from his face--it made him seem boyish and hopelessly endearing. He hadn't pulled away when she had made the gesture more permanent, and that must have been significant as well. She felt anchored by her hand in his, like it had a gravity all its own. It was hard to concentrate on anything else when her brain kept being pulled toward the sensation of his skin touching hers. "It's about, you know, society and marriages and all that mid-century social mechanization worries," she said vaguely, suddenly unable to recall exactly what the plot of the novel was at all. There were a lot of pretty dresses and parties, and a lot of tea being consumed. Who cared what else happened? She felt his eyes on her lips like a brand, and wondered if it had been intentional. "You should read it," she said, clearly not invested in his literary choices at the moment. "Perhaps I will," Severus said, but there was obviously no real intention behind the words and not because he wasn't interested -- although society and marriages and mid-century social mechanization was very likely not that interesting to him -- but because he was simply more interested in her than what she was reading. He'd spent most of the past month wondering if she liked him, and perhaps more importantly, if he fancied her in return and right now in this particular moment, he was certain the answer to that question was yes. And whether that made everything easier, or more difficult, he wasn't certain. ...Nor did he particularly care. His eyes lifted to hers again, perhaps trying to read whether or not he was likely to be slapped if he followed through with what he really wanted right then. And perhaps it was the fact that Regulus had nearly died a week ago and reminded Severus very firmly that it could have been him and therefore he should live his life, or perhaps he was just having a moment of unlikely bravery, or maybe something in her eyes pulled him in, but whatever the reason he found himself leaning forward. He closed his eyes as his lips touched hers tentatively, and the hand that held hers tightened almost imperceptibly. Amalie didn't care if Severus read the book. She didn't care if she became spontaneously illiterate, because he leaned in and kissed her. Severus Snape leaned in and kissed her. She didn't care if it turned out to be awkward, or stilted, or if he did weird poking things with his tongue--she had thought entirely too much about this moment to not appreciate it. And she promptly began to appreciate it by turning off those thoughts long enough to allow herself to just feel. She shut her eyes as he closed the distance between them, leaning forward enough so that her lips met his with a sense of purpose, if not a demand. She felt his hand tighten against her and it thrilled her, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand gently. After all of the anticipation, this kiss ended up fulfilling every expectation, and then exceeding them by miles--not because it was heart-stoppingly passionate or dripping with sensuality, but because it was sweet, and honest, and hard-won. He didn't get slapped, which might not be a worry for some men, but for Severus it certainly was. Women were never something he took for granted, having had spectacularly bad luck with them in the past. But Amalie had struck him as different almost from the beginning, and at first it had only confused him that she didn't seem to be running away from him. Right now though, every thought, doubt, and confusion was as far away from his thoughts as they could possibly be. Severus lifted his other hand to her shoulder, resting it there for an instant before he, rather reluctantly, began to pull back. His cheeks were flushed and rather pink, and he didn't drop her hand from his, but instead pulled his eyes up to her face to meet her eyes. "I-uh," Words were clearly somewhat inadequate in the face of what had easily been the best kiss of his life thus far. A half drunk French stranger snogging him at the stroke of Midnight on New Year's Eve certainly could not even hold a candle to Amalie. "Um." And with the ridiculous inability to articulate anything he broke into a shy smile. She really couldn't do anything but return his smile, taking in the flush on his cheeks and knowing she matched, her whole body warmed by the rapid beating of her heart. At least he was trying to talk. She was just content to sit there and gawp at him like some love-struck adolescent. Which, if she were being honest with herself, she kind of was. The only other experience she had was with Edward Watkins, and as nice as that had been, it definitely wasn't the same. First kisses when you are a teenager and first kisses as an adult were on different planets of feeling. "Exactly," she said, grinning. Then, realizing that it was stupid to try and keep talking when really there was only one thing she wanted to be doing, she leaned in again and pressed her mouth to his, her free hand reaching out to curl against his knee, wanting to tangle in his hair or something equally epic but thinking that might be a bit much. She looked how he felt. The thought flashed through his mind in an instant, and then he was squeezing her hand just slightly and his eyes were still locked on hers, and it was far more intimate than he was used to being with anyone, but he found that he couldn't quite look away in spite of that. It was a touch uncomfortable, but it was a pleasant sort of uncomfortable that Severus couldn't help but think would pass eventually and yet at the same time he didn't want it to. He wanted to somehow keep this feeling forever. And when she pressed her mouth to him again, he didn't resist at all, but instead closed his eyes and if anything he leaned forward, not entirely closing the distance between them, but bringing them closer nonetheless. And this time his hand moved from her shoulder to her neck, the skin soft under his fingers, and he could feel her hair and this time he knew she wanted him to kiss her and so this time he really didn't want to pull back. That he didn't resist felt absolutely perfect, and it shot through her like an arrow, melting away all the insecurity of waiting for this moment. He wanted her, after all. And he was a lovely kisser, which was a nice bonus. It made her stomach jump, and her skin tingle where he touched her, leaving a path of goosebumps in his wake. Leaning into him, she brought her hand up to cradle his cheek, her thumb stroking along his jaw gently. Her brain was pleasantly switched off now, and for the first time in months that she could remember, her thoughts were of nothing more than a kind of warm static. If the fact that Severus could quiet the raging tempest that usually was her internal monologue wasn't a ringing endorsement in his favor, she didn't know what could be. Her touch was electric and completely unlike anything else he had ever experienced in his life and the fact that she hadn't pulled away did encourage him to keep his hand on hers, and his other inched up so that his fingers were slightly through her hair and he kept kissing her, and when he finally did pull back again, his hand was still on her neck, his thumb gently rubbing against her jaw line, and he breathed out slightly. "I- That was nice." And it was perhaps the most inane thing he could have said, he thought a not more than a second later, but he didn't bother correcting it, simply giving her a shy and pleased smile. He rubbed her hand with his thumb and sat back. He didn't know how long they'd been sitting on the sofa kissing - it seemed at once as if it had been forever and no time at all. "Do we need to check the- um, the sauce? If we keep this up we may have to go to take away." And he almost looked as if he didn't mind the idea entirely. "It was definitely nice," she replied, her own grin about as bewildered as his. She was finding it hard to concentrate on anything else with him touching her face and hand, but she pulled her brain back from the blissful plane it had been on and concentrated on his words. Somehow she had completely forgotten dinner, and she didn't much mind. Of course, it was tempting to take him up on the idea of letting the sauce burn and focusing on him instead, but part of her still wanted to finish this little project, if only because she was so blissfully happy now she was certain she had suddenly become a gourmet cook. Anyway, she wasn't planning on letting more than five minutes pass without kissing him no matter what they did, so they might as well get some spaghetti out of it. |