Black Eyed Boy

25

Severus straightened himself, tugging the wrinkles out of his clothing as he staggered to the door, impressed that he only bumped into the wall once. He pulled open the door, liquid courage more powerful than the most potent dose of Felix Felicis ran through his veins, hesitating in his decision only momentarily when he saw that smile – the smile she reserved just for him.

Olivia reached up, wrapping a hand around his neck as she pulled him in for a kiss, her lips working against his but they weren't responding. "Severus? What's wrong?" He grabbed her shoulders, pushing her away to keep her at arm's length. Severus swayed slightly, quickly recovering but it was too late; she saw him.

"Are–are you drunk?"

"I'd prefer the term inebriated," he slurred.

"You're hurt!" she gasped, looking at his bloodied knuckles. He looked down, snorting as he examined the way the blood had dried.

"So I am."

"Severus, what happened? What's wrong?" She stepped closer, running her hands down his chest in what she hoped was soothing to him. He quickly snatched her by the wrists, tugging her arms away from him. She was hurt. He never turned down a comforting touch to her, not since their threesome. She knew their feelings had evolved past simple lust, Severus included although he'd never admit it. She frowned, tears burning behind her eyes– she felt rejected.

Staggering back, he fell ungracefully into one of his chairs, left leg dangling across the arm as he sat askew. He growled, likely embarrassed as he swung his leg over to sit properly. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees while he grabbed handfuls of his hair, a perfect picture of despair.

Olivia crept towards him, cornering the wild animal that was Severus Snape. She grabbed an ottoman and sat between his spread knees. Tentatively, she grabbed his hands, pulling them down so she could heal him. She cast a quick diagnosis charm. Boxer's fracture. He had punched something. She took out her wand, slowly looking up to find him watching her darkly. "This will probably hurt. You broke the knuckles on your little fingers, and dislocated a few more." He only shrugged, sliding his gaze to the roaring fire.

"Episkey," she whispered.

The snap of his bones being realigned echoed throughout the room, and yet the man didn't react at all, not even a flinch. How much pain had he endured in his past that he was so unaffected by this? Olivia wanted to cry, her chest tightening and suffocating her. Severus still wasn't talking to her, and wouldn't look at her. Had she angered him in some way?

She stood, walking to where she knew he kept his tinctures, salves, and potions. She grabbed some antiseptic, gauze, and a Sober-Up potion.

Severus could sense her anxiety, no doubt the witch could sense his tension and was likely blaming herself. He had to keep reminding himself this was for the best. He was doing what had to be done for the greater good. He'd keep her safe. He'd keep her alive. Even if he couldn't keep... her.

Finding her seat again, Olivia grabbed his hands, delicately rubbing the antiseptic over his knuckles with her middle finger. It was a thicker paste, allowing her to massage little circles against his skin, fascinated by how quickly his skin healed. She wrapped his hands tightly, ensuring none of the salve rubbed off, before lowering her lips to kiss both hands. Again, the man did not react at all.

"Drink this," she whispered, handing him the small bottle. Eyes never leaving the flame, he took the bottle, sniffing it before downing the liquid in one go.

Olivia waited a few minutes for the potion to work. "Feel better now?"

"Marginally."

"Do you want to talk about it?"