Something different I Severus/Lucius/Y/N

corridors

As we traversed the echoing corridors of Hogwarts, Snape broke the silence with a tone of concern that hinted at more than just professional curiosity. "Miss Y/L/N, the way Lucius Malfoy spoke of you this evening... it was quite familiar, suggesting a closeness that is, frankly, concerning given his influence and your position as a student here, even though your adultness."

I felt a sting of indignation at the implication, and it prompted a sharper response than I might have normally given. "Professor Snape, I assure you, there was nothing inappropriate in my acquaintance with Mr. Malfoy. I am quite capable of maintaining professional boundaries, even if he is—by all accounts—a charming man."

Snape's stride faltered slightly, his gaze sharp as he turned to look at me. "Charming, you say? And this charm, does it influence your perception of what is appropriate in terms of familiarity?"

There was a pause, a moment where the air between us was charged with unsaid thoughts. Then, I added, something within me wanting to challenge his assumptions, "I've always had a thing for older men. They have a certain... allure that I find compelling."

The admission seemed to take Snape by surprise. He stopped walking, turning to face me fully, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. "You find older men charming," he repeated, his voice flat, almost as if trying to understand the implications of what I had said. "And does this thing extend to your interactions with Lucius Malfoy?"

The question hung heavily between us, and I realized how my words might have sounded. "No, Professor, it doesn't. My relationship with Mr. Malfoy is strictly based on mutual intellectual respect, nothing more."

As I watched Professor Snape's retreating figure, his cloak billowing slightly with the swiftness of his departure, my mind unwillingly drifted back to Lucius Malfoy. Despite the clarity of my assertions to Snape about the purely intellectual and respectable nature of my interactions with Lucius, internally, I couldn't deny the more complicated feelings that stirred within me when I considered the elder Malfoy.

Lucius had always possessed an undeniable charisma that was almost palpable. His presence in any room was commanding, marked by an elegance that seemed as effortless as it was calculated. Even in brief encounters, he exuded a confidence that was both intriguing and intimidating.

Inside my head, a quiet voice acknowledged how his intelligence and the sharp wit that accompanied it had always drawn me in deeper than I had perhaps wanted. There was something about the way he articulated his thoughts, a precision and depth that made every conversation feel significant, engaging—captivating even. It was these moments that had left a lasting impression, often leaving me eager for the next exchange.

And then, there was his humour, subtle but sharp, often laced with an irony that caught me off guard in its cleverness. It was a humour that required a quick mind to appreciate fully, and I found myself frequently caught between a laugh and a moment of awe at his swift mental agility.

I shook my head slightly, trying to dispel the cascade of thoughts. Why was I allowing myself to dwell on these details? It was true, that I had always maintained a professional demeanour in our interactions, but my mind, it seemed, occasionally wandered into naughty waters.

As we made our way through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Lucius Malfoy, I failed to navigate the familiar yet now seemingly elusive path of the castle. Engrossed in a haze of reflection, I took a wrong turn and collided abruptly with a low-hanging stone archway. The sharp, unexpected pain shot through my nose, and I stumbled back, my hand flying up to my face, feeling the warm trickle of blood.

Professor Snape, who had been walking a few steps ahead, turned instantly at the sound of the impact. His usual stern expression shifted quickly to one of concern as he approached me.