autumn | severus snape

six

"I can't believe she just brought him up like that," Ophelia snapped, pacing the length of the dock like a storm barely contained. "She makes me so.. so.. ugh!" She stomped her foot, the sharp crack of wood beneath her boots matching the snarl in her chest. "Does she think I forgot? Like it didn't almost kill me?"

Cory, stretched out in the sun with one leg lazily swinging off the edge, didn't even flinch. "Take it easy," he said, squinting up at the sky. "She probably didn't mean it."

Ophelia shot him a glare. "Don't do that. Don't defend her."

"I'm just saying—"

"Don't." She dropped beside him with a frustrated sigh, pulling her knees up to her chest. "She knew exactly what she was doing."

A moment of silence passed before Cory glanced sideways. "So, what about this Snape guy?"

"What about him?" she muttered.

"I mean, what's his deal? Why is he over at your house right now having dinner with your family?"

Ophelia groaned. "I don't fucking know. He just shows up. Like a specter or a fungus or something."

Cory snorted. "Maybe he's got a thing for you."

She whipped her head around, scandalized. "He's like, what, ten years older than me?"

"Yeah, and your point is?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes. "That's disgusting."

"Well, what does your boyfriend think?" Cory smirked.

"Ricky's not my boyfriend!" Ophelia snapped.

"But didn't you two—"

"Yeah," she cut in sharply. "So what? There were no strings."

Cory raised an eyebrow. "That's like the third guy since you got here, Ophelia. You can't keep playing them like that."

"I'm not playing them, you asshole." Ophelia narrowed her eyes. "I just recently got out of a relationship, okay?"

"I'm just saying," he said, tossing a stone into the water, "those guys liked you. Maybe give them a heads-up before you wreck them."

"Maybe you should mind your own goddamn business."

Something in her tone hit a nerve. Cory stiffened, sat up. "Despite what you think, those guys are my friends."

"Then maybe teach them to take a hint," she said, standing.

But before she could take a step, he grabbed her wrist and shoved her down, pinning her to the dock. "You're not going to string them along like they're disposable."

Her breath caught, but not by surprise. She knew his temper.

"Get off, Cory, or I might start to think that you're in love with me or something," she said colly.

He went still. Then he rolled off her with a muttered curse. "You're such a pain in the ass."

Ophelia smiled. "But you wouldn't have me any other way, now, would you."

"Fuck you," Cory sneered.

"Get in line, babe."

"Let's just go to Margot's."

"Who's Margot?"

𖠇

"Teddy?"

"Ophelia!" he grinned, pulling her into a hug. "Happy to see you. This is my girlfriend, Margot."

She was gorgeous. Effortlessly so. With bright eyes and a smile that looked painted by Botticelli.

"Oh," Ophelia breathed. "When God made you, he was really showing off."

Margot laughed. "You're sweet."

"Easy, Ophelia," Teddy said as he put his arm around his girlfriend. "She has a boyfriend."

They were pulled into a game by Jane, despite Ophelia's protests, and soon she was spinning bottles and downing shots and trying not to notice how everyone else fit in so easily.

She drank. She danced. She drank more. Strangers pressed close, their heat and laughter disorienting. Her stomach churned, empty. Her mind blurred.

At some point, she left.

Margot called after her, offering a place on the couch. But Ophelia was already halfway down the road, the world tilting with every step.

Then headlights.

A car slowed beside her. A boy she vaguely recognized leaned out the window.

"Hey, you alright? Need a ride?"

She shook her head.

"Come on," he said, grinning. "You're wasted."

"I live just here," she mumbled, stepping into a yard that wasn't hers.

He followed.

Too close.

"Stop," she whispered as she reached for keys that weren't in her pocket.

"Is that really what you want?" he said, his breath hot against her neck.

Her skin crawled, mind spinning as he cornered her against the door.

"Let me go."

Adrenaline flooded her system, pumping and beating as if it was trying to escape. Her body wanted to run, scream, fight, but she remained where she was. She could taste saliva thickening in her throat and beads of sweat trickling down her forehead. And then she screamed. She turned away from him and lammed her fists against the door, praying someone would hear.

The boy grabbed her wrists and pressed down his nails into her skin. Ophelia's breath hitched at the sudden pain, losing her ability to speak as he continued to turn her around. She prayed she had caused enough comotion for someone to have woken up, but if she did, they were taking an awfully long time to respond.

As if God, or Merlin, could read her mind, the door behind her opened up and she could see the eyes of the boy widening.

"Let. go." the voice growled and Ophelia realized she was at the wrong house.

The boy dropped her like she burned. Snape pushed him, hard, and followed him down the steps.

"She's drunk," the boy muttered. "I was just—"

"If I ever see you near her again, I'll make sure you never walk again."

The boy paused, eyes flicking between them. "Oh, I get it," he sneered. "You want her all to yourself."

"Can't you see the state she is in?" Snape's voice dropped, lethal. "I wouldn't touch her even if she begged me to. Could you say the same?"

That shut him up.

He fled. Tires screeched.

Snape turned back, climbing the steps in two strides. Ophelia was sitting on the wooden surface, her back against his door and her knees pressed against her chest, blood dripped slowly from both her wrists. He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to stare up at him.

"What have you taken?" he asked harshly.

She blinked slowly. "Everything."

Then she gasped. Her chest heaved. Panic overtook her. She shoved his hand away and vanished into the dark.

Snape stood there for a beat too long, staring at the spot where Ophelia had been, fingers tight with frustration and something dangerously close to fear. He should have noticed sooner. Her pupils, blown wide. Her speech, slurred. Her wrists, Merlin, her wrists.

He gritted his teeth.

"Stupid girl," he muttered, pressing his thumb to the bridge of his nose. "Stupid, reckless..."

But the anger couldn't hold. Not with the way her voice had cracked. Whatever she'd taken, it was enough to send her running on instinct, fight or flight, no time to think. Her brain was probably drowning in a cocktail of alcohol and stimulants. Useless garbage pretending to be escape.