𝐔𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥

I wish I could

Finally, it was 11 pm. Peaceful silence immersed the castle, as the students were in their respective Dormitories, possibly asleep; not one step echoed down the dark corridors, and the portraits, probably asleep themselves, were mute. Overall, a still quietness surrounded the study in which Severus and Blanche were locked, awake, and not quiet.

"YOU ARE INTOLERABLE."

Blanche slammed her hands on Severus' desk, making the solid wood tremble under the blow. The loud rattle made her instinctively back off. She was frustrated beyond reasonable measure, but her own outburst startled her.

On the other side of the table, Severus sat unfazed. He looked all but surprised: the most he did was raise a brow, staring at her with an impassible, dark gaze. He carried himself with solid grace, even when seated: his back was straight, stiff, even; yet, it gave him an austere aura that held an unconventional elegance. The dim light of the candles emphasized his composure, providing a singular gravity to his detached countenance. He didn't seem to have resented much from the lack of sleep.

Blanche, on the other hand, was a mess. Tiredness had gotten the best of her: her agitation was visible, and her temper was even worse than usual. She had yet to redo her hair, of which the strands were falling all over her face; she was aware of her state, and that made her feel self-conscious for a second, especially comparing it to Severus' inflexible appearance. If she hadn't witnessed him rest, she could have sworn that the man never slept.

The Barrier's design was almost ready and, as Severus had illustrated his personal touches to the project, she had ultimately lost it. He had disfigured her initial idea transforming it into something brand new, and at that moment the stress had crushed her, wrecking her last nerve. Control had eluded her once again at his hands, and once again she couldn't stand it.

The last straw had been exactly that: she couldn't stand him explaining how her project wasn't good enough, and what she couldn't stand the most was that his expertise made him right. It was obvious that Minerva had convinced him of being cautious, and Blanche was unnerved by his lack of resistance to her prudent take.

"Do not raise your voice at me," Severus snarled, giving her an immobile, warning stare. He remained unreadable, but his coldness was full of unmistakable resentment.

After a quiet moment, during which Blanche felt like dying, he slowly put his hands on the desk to point at a specific sketch of the castle's map. It was the North Exit, the main entrance for the students and the guests. Keeping his finger firmly on it, he leaned forward to slowly hiss, "I am merely stating the obvious. You did not locate the fault in the curse, whereas I did - therefore, I mended it," he paused, barely nodding in her empty chair's direction, "may you like it or not."

Blanche felt weirdly intimidated and judged by his black, merciless eyes, and sat down. A hint of guilt made her blush.

"I apologize," she murmured, "I didn't mean to scream. I am just tired."

A shadow of surprise crossed his face, only to devolve in his usual, cold expression after a second. He leaned back in his chair, and Blanche couldn't help but notice his cloak slipping to the pavement with a quiet rustle, exactly where she had picked it up from. He didn't move, uncaring for his robe.

"Control yourself and your ego," he said coldly, "that's the condicio sine qua non to dominate any difficult circumstance."

After speaking, he hesitated for an instant, as if he wanted to add something to those words; instead, he tightly clenched his jaw, restraining himself from doing so. Blanche decided to back off a little, taking a look at the sheet he had put his finger on. She hated the idea of surrendering, but she had no choice: every observation he had made about the project was accurate, and his corrections were nothing less than brilliant. He had followed a more traditional path, forged by decades of disciplined academic studies, as opposed to hers: she lacked a classical formation, which, at this point, played a crucial role.