Fierce Consequences [a main character x Snape/Malfoy fan-fiction]

*Chapter 56: Impulses

Songs for this chapter:
if u think i'm pretty - Artemas
Slow Down - Chase Atlantic

This is a long chapter and is all smut. Enjoy :)

Flashback 3: The Pensieve

Snape's words hit Elora like a train moving at full speed. The hint of darkness in his voice was apparent as he stared down at her. Her breath hitched in her throat as he smirked. He knew exactly what he was doing. All of the questions about his allegiance to darkness and intentions with her that had swirled in her mind for weeks came to an abrupt halt.

He moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, sending shockwaves over her small frame. The pressure of the cold dungeon air around them hung in the balance of her reaction. His hand stayed on her neck after fixing her unruly hair.

"Your thoughts, Miss Townes..." he said, "are quite loud."

Elora fought the nerves that threatened to rise in her body. Of course her thoughts were loud. They had been screaming in her head from the moment he touched her. But how could she have forgotten such a simple detail? Her professor's well-known Legillimacy skills were too powerful to keep him out and her thoughts too deafening to not be heard.

Suddenly, she felt a surge of boldness wash over her. Two could play at this game. She shoved her nerves away as she attempted to provoke him.

"Perhaps I should work on quieting them, Professor," she said innocently, not missing the way his eyes darkened slightly at her response. But within an instant, they returned to their usual obsidian shade. He refused to let his weakness for her linger.

"Perhaps," he trailed off, slowly sliding his hand down her neck and collarbone until it fell at his side. "You should learn to control your impulses."

"Impulses..." she said, raising her brows to question him.

Snape kept his expression hard and unreadable, but Elora knew him better now. She knew the things that could make him crack, knew how to perceive and interpret whatever he was hiding. The game was no longer skewed in his favor the way it once was. In the end, he was his own downfall as he let her in and showed her an unseen side of his otherwise rough exterior.

Elora swore she was about to drown in the pressure of the room. But she remained a strong contestant in their little staring contest, refusing to break first. She wanted to maintain her composure, assert any ounce of dominance she could over the potions master.

He lifted his hand to grab her chin lightly with his thumb and pointer finger. Regardless of her intent to keep his gaze, she was trapped now, eyes forced to be locked onto his. He leaned closer, the distance between them reducing to mere inches. Her breathing stopped as everything in her body stilled.

"Impulses," he repeated.

She fought against her body's natural reaction. Her eyes wanted to flutter closed. She wanted to lean into his touch. Her knees wanted to give out under her weight. She felt her abdomen threaten to heat at his actions.

This is wrong, her mind screamed at her.

But then the devil on her shoulder spoke, and its voice was louder, drowning out anything the rational do-gooder on the other shoulder said. If the information that Severus had about the looming war was true, who knew what would happen? Who knew if they would live to see the repercussions of their choices? Who knew how much time was left?

So what?

Elora sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, needing something to distract her from the warnings and urges and pleas drowning her mind.