In Silence (Snarry)

In Silence

Frankly speaking, I was acting like an immature teenager whose hormones cloud their judgment.

It was humiliating to realize that I had created a stupid routine in which I pretended to grade assignments and exams while watching him fulfill his punishment.

"I'm done, Professor Snape."

I had crossed the line between what was ethically right and what was neither ethical nor correct. It was more than obvious that what I was doing was neither. To impose punishments on a student who did not deserve it - not even by my standards - was the most embarrassing thing I could do in my life. To want to be close to that student because I could not control a certain attraction I had towards him was truly stupid. But what was truly unimaginable was the fact that I had certain very inappropriate thoughts about that student.

The worst part of it all was that "that student" was my godson's boyfriend, whom I considered my own son.

Absurd...

But, no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, I couldn't... It was devilishly tempting when I was alone with him, always thinking about how easy it would be to approach him, touch him and...

"Alright, Mr. Potter, you may leave."

I hated the moment when he picked up his things and left, leaving me completely alone, engulfed in a silence that had weighed on me since the day I discovered how much I liked his voice.

I watched him walk slowly, his cane echoing in the silence of the room; the war, like for many others, had left him with lasting scars. Potter's had come in the form of an almost useless leg for life, along with the pain that accompanied it and the eternal disappointment of never being able to ride a broomstick again or choose the career of an auror.

"I'm sorry again for the mess I made," he said, and I realized that I had been staring at him, not even able to hide it when he turned to leave through the door.

I felt even more miserable receiving his apologies again when I had caused that explosion - and so many others - just to be able to punish him.

Ridiculous...

A man nearing his 40s, obsessed with an 18-year-old boy! The damn boy who lived! Even after the war had ended, I couldn't live in peace.

"Don't worry about it, Potter," I exclaimed, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible. "Just try to be more careful next time."

Trash...

Harry remained silent. I didn't mind him staying there with me, but it was starting to feel strange that he hadn't left yet. He had his gaze fixed on me, or at least it seemed like he was trying to, because his eyes were restless, as if he couldn't look at a fixed point for more than two seconds.

I didn't dare break the silence that had fallen between us. I didn't want to. If I did, I knew it would hasten his departure, and that was something I wasn't willing to facilitate.

"Can I ask you a question?" he spoke, gripping his cane tightly.

I looked down at my desk for a moment, pretending to glance at the papers before raising my gaze again and nodding.

"It's... it's more like advice... you know," he began to stammer.

He tried to search for something in his backpack, but his movements were clumsy due to the fact that he was also holding the cane. In the end, his nervousness caused everything to fall to the ground.

"Sometimes you're useless, Mr. Potter," I hissed with a grimace.

"Sorry," he said with a nervous smile.