𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 || Severus Snape x OC ||

25. MIDNIGHT WHISPERS

*.·:·.☽ ✧ ☾.·:·.*

Slender fingers pushed gently the dark blue covers. Her blanket receded silently, and Alice lifted her head to glance at the students. They were all sound asleep and the Ravenclaw dormitory was dipped in the softness of the slumber. She pushed the covers further, feeling the cold air of the tower embrace her form. Her pale skin radiating softly, illuminated by the moonlight, beneath the sheer, soft, and dark fabric. Her feet met the wooden floor, and she carefully weighed her steps not to make a sound as she moved to the wooden chest near the bed and snaked her hand carefully inside, reaching for her robes. Sliding silently into her clothes, she picked up her quill and the book of the Half-Blood Prince, clasping it to her chest and stepping like a feline creature soundlessly towards the door.

Her heart hastened its rhythm no different than a racehorse fighting its reins before being unleashed to gallop. Blood pulsing in her every vein. She slid outside the airy common room glancing once more behind her in case someone had seen her. A single step and she was back in the large spiral flight of stairs.

Quiet.

Silver soft rays of moonlight pierced through the stained-glass windows of the tower along the staircase, and the autumnal night's breeze from outside, echoed like a ghost between the walls of Hogwarts. Each step taking her deeper into the castle, as she worried her bottom lip. He had told her to go to the dungeon that night. She wasn't sneaking away at night as she had done countless times the year before. Yet her chest heaved with the same intensity as it had done when she first went down these spiral staircases, drawn by curiosity, and a luring scent she had irrevocably now related to the potions master.

Another floor down. None but the ghost of the Grey Lady is awake. Not even the elves strode around the castle at an hour such as this.

Did he know? She wondered, her hand touching the cold stone wall whilst the other pressed the book against her chest. Did he know I wouldn't sleep tonight?

Not tonight, nor any other night. For each day that eerie feeling within grew stronger, and she longed to tell him of what she had found in the library, what she feared could be true about herself, too...

Another turn and the final staircase to the potions dungeon revealed itself. Dimly lit by the flickering candleflames, that stood guards against the darkness of the night, each dancing upon its wick over a pond of melted beeswax. Their scent, subtle, warm, soothing, and somehow drenched in what felt like the echo of a mystery, infiltrated her senses. She breathed in through parted lips. Her fingers trembled. They always did. Each time he appeared before her, each time his glance fell upon her. Trembling hands and a thumping heart; jolting at the sight of his dark gaze. Those fathomless dark pools that swirled and drew her. And each time, she felt like standing atop of a cliff, gazing at the abyss beneath her. Reverence mixed with a deadly invitation to give in. To let herself go in that abyss, even if her instincts warned she may never return from it.

The wooden thick door of the dungeon appeared before her. Her glance rose to the candle above the door. She willed her breathing to ease, her heart to regain a steady, slower pace. The warm, dim light of the two candles on either side above the door flickered as the flames danced upon their wick. Her eyes focused on the dancing soft flame on her right. The beeswax candle, half-melted, forming hardened drops of its essence. She observed the wick, how it seemed to be what gave life to the little flame and held it bound at the same time.

Not to long ago, that little flame had told her to trust him, remaining still and steady upon its wick. This time Alice looked at the gentle flame and whispered from within.

Little flame your guidance I seek. What I fear of, tell me if it's true. Dance upon you wick and flicker to warn me, or else remain steady and let me draw from your warmth the strength I seek...