30. AMARE IN NOCTEM

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*.·:·.☽ ✧ ☾.·:·.*    

They say fear and desire are sometimes alike. Both have their roots deep within our existence and our instincts are driven by them. Ruled by them.

Fear and desire are two sides of the same coin. And Alice felt her heart switch between those sides within seconds. Out of a sudden, it all made sense and no sense at all. For the Death Eater who never fired a spell at her was him. The same Death Eater who helped her escape when there was hardly a chance for her to make it otherwise.

She stood speechless as he turned to face her amidst the dark, dreary, cramped, and gloomy room. His frock coat and dark cloak revealed, as the Death Eater's hood vanished into dark mist.

Slow steps crossed the distance between them. Her feet against the creaking wooden floor. Each step taking her closer to his towering figure. He glanced down at her. The way his dark onyx eyes seemed veiled by a dullness ever foreign to his penetrating stare made her ache, even if she still felt betrayed by his former actions. For this was a veil Alice had never seen before in his eyes. A veil that had appeared recently. As if something had turned; as if something had changed. A finality beyond his control, yet utterly his. He was strong, towering, intimidating, yet something inside him seemed to be breaking, slowly but surely.

He lowered his gaze to her feet. She had lost her shoes during the chase through the Forbidden Forest, wounding her tender flesh, and her clothes had turned into a mess of mudded fabric and shredded pieces.

She hugged herself, wrapping her arms around her form. "Is this where they'll come for me?" the sting of his betrayal towards her from before lingered against her heaving chest. The serpent of doubt denied her to hope that his intentions could have been against the will of the Death Eaters.

"No," he drawled out and she hoisted her eyes back to his. His back was rigid, but he stepped towards her, nevertheless.

She flinched. Fear and distrust swirled in her pagan eyes. He pressed his lips together. This was his doing, too. For he had had no time to warn her, no time to stop her before everything turned into a mess.

His drawl was deep, and she could feel the velvet of his sound covering the sharp rocks and underlying blades. Alice held his gaze. For all the velvety timber of his voice, there was an undeniable sense of distance as he kept himself barricaded behind a stiff and cold expression.

He pulled up a wooden chair near the dead fireplace. The subtle nod he gave her was enough for her to take the seat as he waited for her. She could sense him giving her a fraction of space after what happened. Yet, it was that very distance between them that made her uncomfortable, too. That distance seemed impossible to cross, even if the rational mind solely needed a few steps. It was a distance carved out of the events of the last few days, hollowing the trust she had harboured for him.

Snape stepped towards her. Alice darted her eyes at him, sensing his movement, which brought him to a momentary halt as if he approached a treacherous frozen lake and each step needed caution.

Snape's slow, careful steps brought him closer to a frightened Alice that stared back at him, resembling more a frightened creature of the woods, trapped in a cage, than the young woman he knew.

She remained still. Stiff and uneasy. Worried. He looked at her without saying a word and leaned down, kneeling on one knee in front of her. She jolted a bit, pushing herself further into the chair and gripping the armrests, clenching her jaw, and clawing the dark wood of the chair.

His eyes read her movements one by one in silence. His right hand came down slowly, carefully reaching for her lower legs. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him move. She tensed as his palm caved her ankle. It wasn't the harsh touch that had gripped her moments ago, leading her through the gloomy streets of Cokeworth in fear of someone following them. This time his touch was gentle, warm, and careful.

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