𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 || Severus Snape x OC ||

12. THE YULE MOON

The night drew the students deep into their slumber, beneath warm covers, draped curtains, and half-melted candles, standing upon the night stands as if silent guardians of those now asleep.

Alice rolled on her back, her head tilted to the side, glancing at the other beds. Her eyes, now used to the darkness, watching for any sign that a student might be awake. But no, all Ravenclaw girls were asleep, all had dived into the depths of their dreams, their chests heaving slowly, softly, as their thoughts and minds drifted into different worlds than this.

She pushed and lifted the covers off her, sliding off the bed, careful not to make a sound, as her feet touched the floor, like a feline creature, her muffled steps inaudible. Her hands glided from the bed, and she glanced at them in the faint shadowy light of the night. Still darkened. Her lips pressed and she reached for the trunk near the window, where robes and fabrics were kept. Her darkened fingers came around the iron hasps and as quietly as she could she pulled them. The metal receded in the embrace of her fingers with a clacking sound, barely audible to even her. She pushed the trunk open, holding it steady with one hand whilst the other searched amongst the fabrics and robes.

Familiar texture. Somewhat heavy, smooth, and plain. She pulled it out and brought it close to her, closing the trunk gently. A few moments later, her silent steps led her to the door of the dormitory, and from there, to the stairs. The days of the Triwizard Tournament had deprived her of the nightly time she used to spend in the potion's master's dungeon. The Durmstrang headmaster seemed to be constantly at his tail, never leaving him alone for too long. She nibbled her lip at the memory of Snape's gentle touch upon her scarred wrist, his voice and his presence. The warmth that she felt each time his towering figure appeared before her, catching her breath in her throat as his onyx eyes fell upon her.

Yet the man that had come down to find her when she had run after the fallen Horntail, seemed so different, so cruel, and cold. She hadn't seen him, hadn't paced down to the dungeons since that moment. Her blackened hands were merely part of the reason. The rest was the flurry of emotions stirring within her chest. The hurt for what he'd done, the subdued anger that she was unable to stop him, unable to help the Horntail, although, deep down, she knew he had done the sole thing that could be done for the massive creature. And then, then there was something else in her chest, as she stepped down and crossed the large corridor to the gates. Something else that made her for fearful and in need of seeing him again. Something that pulled in her chest, warmed her from the inside each time her mind drew his image and echoed his voice.

She missed him.

She missed his scent, she missed how she grew weak when his voice addressed her. She missed the confusion in her mind and in her chest when he touched her. Walking away and keeping a distance from the man she knew was capable of finding everything about her past was the sensible choice, the reasonable way to protect herself, but that was asking too much. Too much...

~***~

The cold winter wind, soft as a feather and sharp as a blade, embraced with its harsh caress the bare skin as Alice glided down along the rocky path and reached the shores of the Dark Lake.

Silence. Solely the sound of the gentle motion of the water as it reached her feet and withdrew back, only to reach her again and draw back. She breathed in deeply and held the air of the lake in her lungs, filling them as much as she could. Thick pebbles beneath her feet and the dry northern wind's kiss upon her exposed shoulders as she lowered down her robes. Her skin shivered solely for a moment when her toes touched the cold water. Her breath was visible in little puffs amidst the darkness of the night.

The Black Lake, inviting and cold, drew her. She stepped slowly, carefully, letting the water embrace her as she walked in deeper, 'till the water reached her long neck, 'till her blackened hands were deep into the water. Unseen. Perhaps this would help them turn back to their fair colour. Perhaps the cold water, the Lake, was enough to drive her nightmare away. She tilted her head back, dipping her raven hair. The pale mistress of the night above glimmered in her reflection on the water. Almost a full moon. A pale face carved in melancholy, Alice thought as she raised her gaze to the near-full moon of the winter solstice. She closed her eyes and let herself submerge into the waters and rose back to the surface breathing in the air filled with the smell of the woods, the water, and the faint scent of burning logs from the castle's fireplaces.