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Dark Coil	By : gotsnape Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 4418 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 26 - Ducks and Dames

Ok, usual disclaimers are still in place. JK owns it. I am borrowing it. 'Nuff said.
Professor Snape glared at the backs of the retreating seventh years struggling violently to escape through the doorway as one body.

Double potions at either end of the day! First year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws abutting breakfast with (twice damned!) the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins rounding out his day.

Upon quitting his chamber this morning, Snape had committed himself to ignoring each and every infraction of the school rules.

For today, and today only, he would turn a blind eye to careless mistakes in potions brewing. He had cunningly selected a benign recipe for the classes and should an accident occur, the worst that could happen would be a rapid increase in facial hair.

For this one day in time, Snape vowed to have ears deaf to the frequent, skittering whispers and giggles arising from the rows of fidgeting bodies.

Inwardly cringing, Snape swore that for today he "would be the duck."

Reckoning back, Snape recalled with distaste his first exposure to the "fowl" phrase. Madam Hooch, the Hogwarts flying instructor had rudely accosted him in the staff room following a particularly brutal potions class. "Severus, you look as if someone has jabbed a poker up your butt! Relax man! Be the duck!"

"And why, do tell, would I have any desire to transform my self into a waterfowl?" He had snapped angrily while sloshing tea from the seemingly bottomless teapot into a mug emblazoned with, "Teach a child. Touch a child. Strangle the life from a child."

"No, no Severus!" Hooch cawed her abrasive laugh while slapping him soundly on the shoulder. "Don't let the little beggers get to you. Allow their foolishness to roll from you as water rolls from a duck."

"And how," the potions teacher inquired,singsing the abused body part. "am I to accomplish such a feat?"

"Why, you ignore it, of course."

"Ignore it?" He snarled in disbelief. "Ignore it while those dunderheads melt every cauldron in sight? Ignore it as 'frisky' youths wander the corridors after hours doing only Circe knows what?" He shook his ebony head in disbelief taking a deep pull from his cup.

"Unless lives are at stake, yes!" Hooch insisted emphatically. "Give it a try. Save you a great deal of wear and tear on the stomach lining, not to mention preventing further erosion of those frown lines."

At the time, Snape had blown off the advice as being too ridiculous.

Simply childish.

But now�

Now, with the lure of Olivia's undivided attention�

He was willing to give anything a try.

"I will be the duck." He muttered to himself undoing the wards on the potions class door. "I will float above it all."

Alas, the best laid plans of mice and ducks�

During first period, little Sylvia Sugarquill's potion boiled over and ran onto the floor in a stinking, pink mass. As students frantically moved aside to escape the hissing concoction, someone nudged a cauldron of Pepper-up Potion Snape had been brewing for Madam Pomfrey. It toppled from its frog and the seething professor had watched helpless as a week's worth of labor vanished down the floor drains.

Feeling his teeth beginning to ache, Snape had deducted points from every house, present or not. He also found himself dangerously close to chucking his resolution of not handing out detentions. It would serve the stupid little brats right if they were to be assigned detention in the sub-regions of the dungeons. Let them spend a few hours wrestling with rats and slugs jazzed on Pepper-up Potion!

The mid-day meal in the Great Hall approached the fringes of lunacy. In Snape's opinion, the noise and tomfoolery exceeded that which usually accompanied a Quidditch match or an up-coming holiday. While the potions master's ears rang and his narrow jaws spasmed, he noticed that the other faculty members appeared unaffected by the howling and trashing of the student body below them.

Are they deaf? Snape growled, bending his soup spoon over on itself.

"No," chuckled a snarky voice in his head, sounding alarmingly Hooch-ish. "They are DUCKS."

His brief glimpse of Olivia rushing from the hall to her next class focused Snape's resolve and as he headed to the dungeons, he attempted to visualize himself with feathers.

The afternoon stretched on interminably.

"Be the duck, man!" Snape hissed to himself. "I am the duck. I am floating. Floating upon a lake of pupils."

But as the aggrieved professor gazed into what remained of the day, he discovered not a lake, but a vast ocean of students rolling and heaving under him. They pulled at him, rising up in brainless, whining waves that washed him further and further from his tiny speck of hope resting on the horizon. Paddle as he might, Snape never seemed to be any nearer to that island, that sanctuary called Olivia.

Darting glances at the hourglass, Snape�s fingers began shredding his fifth quill of the period. The small dune of feather fragments shifting softly between his feet gave silent testimony to the depths of Professor Snape's crumbling resolve.

Now finally, finally, the last nail-biting class of this agonizing day was bottle-necked in the doorway, everyone attempting to escape at one time.

Well, almost everyone. Two students wisely avoided the rush-hour traffic at the door.

Draco Malfoy had collected his possessions and lingered near the end of a row of desks. The potions instructor had wondered at the young man's behavior of late and could guess what the silver-haired youth wished to discuss. Lucius had recently intimated that Draco would soon be joining the ranks of other misguided teens that would throw their lot in with the darker side of magic. The elder Malfoy's voice had not even resonated with paternal pride at the prospect of Draco's initiation, but rather had dripped with malicious success. One more notch in Malfoy's wand. The Junior Death Eater obviously wanted to discuss the up-coming initiation and Snape shuddered, knowing he could not dissuade young Malfoy from his path without revealing his own role as traitor and spy. If the damn brat would only think for himself!

Draco waited with barely concealed impatience, coldly eyeing the other remaining student.

Miss Hermione Granger placidly gathered her boand and notes, tucking them neatly into her tote bag. She shouldered the bag and as she moved past Snape's desk, cast a glance up at him.

"Good day, sir."

"Good day, Miss Granger."

The young witch made her way across the room as the last of her classmates popped out of the door like a cork. Passing by Draco, Miss Granger presented him with a cold nod before following the class into the dungeon corridor.

"You wished to speak with me, Mr. Malfoy?" Professor Snape inquired, his voice slipping naturally into one of concerned indifference; very much as one would carelessly inquire of a stranger, "How aou?ou?" Not really expecting or desiring a response.

"No sir, not at this�" Draco began, only to be cut off by as Professor Snape coldly interrupted.

"Then why are you still here, Mr. Malfoy? If you wish to make an appointment to speak with me after hours, the usual practice of placing a note on my office door is still in effect."

Pulling himself taller, Draco lowered a veil of practiced indifference over his features, though the gray eyes retained a hint of the previous uncertainty.

"Would tonight be convenient for you, Sir?" The young wizard asked.

"No!" Snape bellowed, then forced himself to calm. "No, Mr. Malfoy. I have a previous engagement. Tomorrow evening, perhaps? Directly following dinner?"

"Yes sir. That would be fine." Draco replied. The young wizard�s voice carried the cool, cultured modulation of one to the manor born, but Snape heard a thin current of misgiving in Draco�s tone. Something was obviously intruding on young Mr. Malfoy�s composure. The young man swallowed nervously, seemed to want to speak, then grimacing, changed his mind. Watching Draco shoulder his book bag and turn away, Professor Snape succumbed to the pricking of guilt.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape began. "If you would rather discuss the matter now, I could make modifications in my plans." Please say no! Please say no!

"No sir." The teen quickly replied. Too quickly, Snape thought. "Tomorrow will be fine. Until then, I hope you have a pleasant evening."

Draco made his way from the class, pulling the door carefully shut behind him.

Click!

Snape collapsed across his desk, face resting on his folded arms.

He had made it!

He had the entire evening student free and Olivia had invited him to her chambers.

Of course, they would be discussing what had happened while she was in Voldemort's possession. Well, he was a good listener. It was likely to be an emotional time as well. He had taken her advice and a neatly folded stack of handkerchiefs sat on his bureau waiting for use. Snape would hold her while she cried. He would dry her tears. No! Even better, he would kiss them away!

And then there was the issue of Olivia's dastardly use of the healing potion. The silly wench probably thought that he had forgiven her.

Not likely, the potions master grinned wickedly. His was not a nature that easily forgave. It would be enteningning to see how far the feisty Miss McGonagall would go to earn his pardon. Very entertaining, indeed.

Pushing himself up from the desk, Snape gave a mighty stretch. By the gods, he felt wonderful.

################################################

Olivia swept the chamber in a final nervous glance before moving quickly to the door. The curt "tap-tap" upon the thick wooden panel had launched her from the bird-like perch she had just moments before taken on the sofa. She ran her hands over the sapphire blue material spilling from elegant gathers under the gentle swell of her breasts. Then, pinching cheeks already bright with excitement, Olivia tried to bring her facial muscles under control. Taking a deep relaxing (HA!) breath, Olivia opened the door.

The figure of the potions master was captured inside the yellow slice of candlelight escaping Olivia's chamber. He was garbed in the same robes she had admired during that first dinner at Hogworts. Familiarity with the garment did nothing to lessen Olivia's appreciation of it or its wearer. Sumptuous black flowed from Severus' broad shoulders, the rich fabric held in place by the same flame-eyed serpent that had stared at Olivia all those weeks ago. His face, above the elegantly tied cravat, appeared calm; his thin lips, relaxed; his brow, smooth and temperate. He had left his hair down and the black strands brushed along his olive cheeks before blending into the dark camouflage of his robes.

"Professor Snape," Olivia said boldly in case anyone should pass by and wonder at Severus' presence outside her chamber. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice. I know how busy you are." Stepping back, Olivia opened the door wider.

"Your message indicated that you wished to see me on a matter of some importance. I would not refuse such an urgent summons."

Olivia shivered slightly as Severus' voice moved through her. She caught a tiny flicker at the corner of the pale wizard's lips that said he had noticed and appreciated her body's reaction.

Midnight shadow momentarily eclipsed blue fire as Snape passed into the room, his robes flaring out wide and snatching at the trailing hem of Olivia's gown. His scent lingered, teasing the agitated young witch with its fascinating blend of lemons and rain-washed glens.

Olivia closed the door; warding it against further visitors, sound proofing it as well. Warm fingers skimmed over the tiny hairs on Olivia�s nape. She sighed, resting her forehead against the wooden panel.

"Olivia."

Severus' breath moved over the delicate shell of Olivia's ear, strands of his hair swaying against the exposed skin of her shoulder. "Olivia, if I may be so bold�"

"Yes," she gasped, pleading. "Bold. Yes. Please."

Severus' arms, sensuous velvet serpents, curled about Olivia's waist, squeezing, binding her to the firmness of his body. Angling her head back until it rested against Severus' chest, Olivia groaned softly, feeling the moist heat of his lips pressed to the tender juncture of shoulder and neck.

Bringing up her hands, Olivia folded them over his sinewy arms, pressing herself further into his embrace. She shivered violently as his tongue slicked liquid fire up the pale column of her neck before dancing along the edge of her ear.

"Sweet," Severus purred against Olivia's skin. "So sweet."

"I have missed you, Severus." Olivia confessed in a choked whisper.

"Have you?" He breathed against her skin. "How much?"

"Enough to cause me to ache with wanting you again."

Olivia tilted her chin, offering greater access to the questing mouth gliding over her shoulders and neck. Supple hands now fanned out over Olivia's ribs, roaming upwards to curve neatly under her breasts. Flares of desire shot outward from where Severus played, spinning and leaping from nerve ending to nerve ending, lighting signal fires throughout Olivia's body until every cell was aware of the tender siege.

"You ache?" The vibration of his words resonated through Olivia's spine straight to her heart.

"Yes." Olivia had closed her eyes, leaning fully into his strong embrace. "Yes." It was barely a whisper.

"Good." Severus pronounced, briskly setting Olivia away from him. Striding across the chamber he stood, arms folded, by the crackling fire, his expression one of smug accomplishment.

A bucket of ice water, a slap to the face, a flobberworm dropped down the back of her gown, could not have startled Olivia more. Mouth a-gape, she stood staring stupidly at the wood grain design of her door. The still glistening trail of kisses captured the cool air of the chamber, heightening her sensation of abandonment. Olivia pressed palms to stinging cheeks, drawing in a trembling breath.

"GOOD?"

Did he say, "GOOD?"

He said, "GOOD."

So, he was in one of THOSE moods.

A wicked smile worked its way across Olivia's face while an equally wicked idea threw itself at the iron bars of its cage, demanding to be set free.

Glancing saucily over her shoulder, Olivia tossed Severus her most dazzling smile.

In her head the click of a lock was heard.

Now, I wonder what Olivia is thinking of? Hmmm?

Can't linger. Have to go and pound out chapter 27. The next few chapters may be a bit fluffy for some tastes but we must lay some groundwork for what comes later. Who knows, I may change my mind and toss them back into the fire. Whatever happens, hang in there. I have the story all done in my head and all the major scenes all played out. It is just the mortar that holds the entire thing together, the lines that connect the dots as it were that still need mixing.

Now, look down there. Waaaaaaaaay down there.

Make it say 'click'.
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Dark Coil