Fire in The Dungeon

Ch 25 The Arrivals

The day had arrived when the two foreign schools were set to arrive at Hogwarts. Severus stood rigidly amidst the gathering crowd of students and faculty outside the castle doors. Dumbledore was at the front, exuding the usual air of calm authority. He exchanged polite words with the professors, but even he seemed to carry a hint of tension, his gaze frequently flicking to the sky and Black Lake as if expecting something—someone. Snape knew that the arrival of the other schools would complicate things. With the two other headmasters in attendance and the eyes on the Wizarding World on the tournament, it would be increasingly difficult to hide the truth about Andromeda.

He thought back to their last conversation, to the way she had spoken of Dumbledore's betrayal. She had been right, of course. Dumbledore had shown him something sacred without her consent, and now it was up to him to make things right. But how? He couldn't simply undo what had been done. And even if he could convince her to accept him as Dumbledore's replacement in the blood bond, it would require a level of trust that he wasn't sure they still shared.

When she finally appeared, Snape's breath caught in his throat. Andromeda's long black hair hung braided over her shoulder, contrasting beautifully with the maroon dress she wore. The fabric hugged her slender figure elegantly, making her appear both regal and alluring. She was truly a stunning beauty, and Snape couldn't help but marvel at the seamless facade she maintained.

He moved to stand beside her, close enough that his presence couldn't be ignored. "Stop avoiding me," he whispered, his voice sharp, a command more than a request.

Andromeda didn't flinch, didn't so much as turn her head. Her gaze remained locked on the scene before her, the Beauxbaton's carriage now making its graceful descent. As the crowd of students cheered, she finally responded, her tone was cool and detached. "I thought I had been," she said flatly. "But given how persistent you are, I suppose I've failed."

Her head turned ever so slightly, and her eyes flickered with mild irritation as they met his. "Tell me, Severus, are you obsessed with me?"

His irritation flared instantly, her coldness and sarcasm grating on him. He gave a quiet scoff, responding with equal venom. "Oh, yes, absolutely. I've clearly nothing better to do than chase after someone determined to make herself intolerable."

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips, though it lacked any warmth or amusement. "Perhaps you're simply more of a masochist than I gave you credit for." She still didn't turn to face him, her words calm, though something about them felt more pointed than usual.

Severus allowed a thin smirk to tug at the corner of his lips, though he doubted she saw it. "You think far too highly of yourself," he replied with a sarcastic edge. "And you're mistaking my patience for something else entirely."

Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Patience, Severus? Is that what you call it?"

He stepped even closer, just enough to make his presence unavoidable. His breath brushed against her ear once more, his voice soft and deliberate. "I'd call it something else entirely."

And then, he saw it again—her mask slipping, if only for a heartbeat. Her posture tensed, her lips parted once more, though no sound came. The scent of jasmine seemed heavier now, intoxicating in the space between them. Her silence spoke louder than anything she could have said.

But she recovered again, her voice steady and calm, though she still didn't turn to look at him. "Tell me, Severus," she murmured. "What do you hope to achieve with this? Surely you know it's futile."

Her words should have cut, but he refused to be swayed. "And yet, here I am," he replied coolly, his gaze fixed on the side of her face, waiting for the next crack in her armor. "And here you are, still pretending you don't care."