Precarious (Severus Snape x Reader)

Chapter 18: Don't. Lie. To Me.

"- I hate Severus Snape -"

-

Although it was difficult, you gradually started to acknowledge your feelings for Severus. Frankly, you were scared to even approach the notion after having your heart absolutely shattered by the one person on the planet you thought you'd marry in college. Everything had happened so quickly, and you had thought you were simply infatuated with him at first, but, after seeing his dark mark and becoming dysfunctionally distraught, the feeling was unmistakable. It was strange to reflect on the fact that you were in love. You had sworn to yourself never to fall again, but alas, here you were, with utterly maddening emotions sloshing inside you like an over-boiled kettle, ready to burst. And what destroyed you the most was the fact that he didn't even seem to care.

Your next class was downright miserable. Severus had resumed his usual composure, detached, abrasive, and it felt like you were back in your first lesson, intimidated and resentful to no end. His condescending tone combined with your inattention and lack of success in class caused you to want to crawl, hands and knees, into the Black Lake and let the merpeople have their way with you. Unfortunately, there would be no such sweet release. The students would be arriving next week, and his attitude only worsened. Severus spent the subsequent days insultingly instructing you on how to teach his introductory classes, and you almost had the will to tell him to knock it off, as you were already experienced in this, but the will never came. You were daydreaming idly about his lips when he snapped his fingers in front of your face.

"Miss (Y/N)!" he hissed.

You blinked several times to dispel your stupor.

"Yes, sir?"

"You have not paid me any mind this entire day. In fact, you haven't been present at all over the last several lessons. You will be attentive to me."

You couldn't even feign a smile. "I've been paying attention to you, sir."

"Don't. Lie. To me," he scathed, and it split you in two.

"I'm not lying," you whispered, and you knew it was true. You had been paying attention to him, but only to the silky caress of his voice, his bittersweet scent, thick lashes fluttering as his eyes scanned pages of text, the beautiful ridges of his hands.

"I've had enough of your dismissiveness today. You will not be receiving any marks for this lesson, and you will be deducted fifty percent for every lesson in the past week," he said, unwavering.

Your brow knitted. "But sir -"

"Enough. Get out. I expect you here tomorrow at seven o'clock. There is more preparation to be done before the students arrive. Specifically, all of my ingredients need to be relabeled. Bring your best quill and try not to make any errors."

"Tomorrow is Saturday, sir," you wept. It was half of your only opportunity to decompress from the madness that had become your daily life before you were thrust into teaching again.

"I am aware of that, Miss (Y/N). Now go."

You nodded without another word, packing your things and heading straight for the door. When you had shut it behind you, an overwhelming throb of sadness tore through your chest, and you found yourself sinking down in the middle of the dungeon corridor. You could do nothing more than cry, hot tears pouring down your cheeks and soaking your robes, dripping into a puddle beneath your head, though you weren't even sure exactly what you were crying about. You were caught again in another episode of derealization, and you weren't sure if you'd ever again locate the ability to stand. The sobs wracked you, and you cursed yourself for displaying such fragility. It was physically painful, and the sharp, burning aches singed through every bone, every pore, until you were left lying motionless on the humid stone of the dungeon floor, nothing more than a severely fractured, freezing cold body. You stayed like this, falling in and out of consciousness, until someone, a dark figure, stooped low and brushed the damp hair from your face.

"(Y/N)?"

It was not the voice you had hoped for.

Minerva's emerald robes enveloped you in a tight embrace as she guided you to your quarters, prompting you to reveal your password, and practically dragging you inside. You said nothing for what felt like centuries, until Minerva attempted to coax an explanation from your pale lips.

"What is going on with you?" she asked seriously. "I'm worried. Have you been cursed? Are you ill?"

You snorted half-assedly. "I'm fine."

She shook her head. "I know you're not. Please, dear, tell me, so I can help you."

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. You truthfully didn't feel like spilling the entirety of your vile guts to her at this moment, so you answered in the most vague, yet honest way you thought possible.

"It's Severus. He's driving me nuts," you replied.

"How so?"

"He's just being less than friendly. I'm exhausted from all of the lessons."

Minnie frowned. "Is that all?" she asked suspiciously.

You nodded unconvincingly. "Yeah."

"I'm going to be keeping a very close eye on you. I can't have you falling physically or mentally ill while you're here. I want this to be the best experience for you. Now, get some rest."

"Thanks," you whispered, and stretched lengthwise on your couch as Minerva exited your quarters.

Little did she know, you were seriously physically and mentally ill. You were completely miserable. But you couldn't allow her the enlightenment, else she may have a stroke from the anxiety you'd cause her. It was up to you to handle this on your own. You glided off into a nap with the mantra I hate Severus Snape cycling repeatedly in your mind.

-

It was pitch black when you opened your eyes. Your candles had burned out, and the only sensory information you received was the uncomfortable cushion of your couch and the soft purr of Brew lying directly next to your head. She always had a way of comforting you, even in slumber. Reaching toward the sound, you made contact with the wispy fur along her spine, thanking her for the companionship. She smacked her lips in response. You were suddenly a bit unnerved at the pitch darkness, and patted around blindly for your wand. You hadn't remembered placing it on the table.

"Lumos," you whispered, and the tip of your wand was set aglow.

You quickly lit the large candle on the table and cast a charm toward your hearth, filling the room with amber light. You were able to discern the time from the clock on the wall, and were strikingly disappointed to learn that it was three o'clock. In the morning. You had to meet Severus in four short hours, and you dreaded even conceptualizing it. You decided to indulge yourself to what was really only a nap in your bed, though you were grateful for the decision as soon as you sprawled out beneath the sheets. Your watch sat forgotten on your nightstand, and you opted to set an alarm for six, just in case you were difficult to rouse. You released your first, and most likely not your last, tears of the day as you drifted slowly into turbulent unconsciousness.