Hell's Last Lantern | A Severus Snape x OC Romance

Chapter Eleven

"Miss Cle––"

He sighed and stopped himself.

Well. Shit. He hadn't meant to make her cry . Perhaps he had gone a bit too far. He didn't mean it, not really. He just wanted to provoke her so she would stop being so idiotic and take care of herself; to wake up.

He couldn't figure her out. She was trusting and skeptical all at once. An odd mix. She had instincts, he knew that; she just didn't trust them. She trusted the opinions and instincts of the people around her instead, which was no doubt largely due to her lack of experience and confidence. She did not trust herself.

He thought of the way her eyes flickered with anger when he accused her of being naive. It was endearing, in an odd way. She had no idea what the real world was like.

So what if he had hurt her feelings? Her feelings were irrelevant. She was being incredibly naive, and a little wake-up call never hurt anybody. It was better than allowing her to needlessly be lured into Sharpp's trap, whatever it was. Speaking of the smug bastard. What the hell was that look passed between them? The touch on her shoulder? He was intentionally antagonizing Snape; he had to be. Why else was he acting so smug? And how did he know it would piss Snape off?

'Am I angry because she didn't listen to me about Sharpp or am I just...jealous?'

He quickly shook off that absurd explanation and exhaled in annoyance as he slumped into his office chair, kneading his eyes with the heel of his palms.

Why was she so comfortable around Sharpp, anyway? Was it because he was handsome and charming? Was she so simple-minded that such a glib display worked on her?

His mind pointedly reminded him of her tears, an image he was fighting to distract himself from. He tugged at his collar as he felt swathes of guilt crawling up his chest from his gut and up to his head where the accusatory thoughts screamed relentlessly.

Why did he care so much? He had made plenty of students cry in his years as a professor at Hogwarts...though he had never been brought to such anger that he laid hands on them. The closest was with Potter, but he would've loved to have made that arrogant little wanker cry.

He had to admit that he hadn't expected her to snap back at him like that. Turns out she did have some spirit, it just had to be provoked. He detested the way it had excited him and made his blood run hot when she pushed him and shouted at him. There was some sick thrill he found in fighting with her; in provoking that fire in her eyes.

In being the only one who could provoke it.

But he hadn't meant to make her cry. He just wanted her to see how dire things were. To wake up to the reality of the situation and stop being so damn oblivious. However, in the heat of the moment he had let it slip that Sharpp was a former death eater. He would have to do some damage control there.

Later. For now he'd give her time to cool down, and would attempt to ameliorate the situation the following evening during their remedial potions lesson.

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The following morning, Vela entered the Great Hall for breakfast and took a seat, willing herself to eat but finding the task insurmountable. Her stomach was tight with humiliation and dread. Everything felt...wrong. She wasn't sure why it had affected her so much to have issues with Snape. She'd been scolded harshly many times throughout her life, told she was useless, pathetic, stupid...but it hadn't ever affected her like this.