Orli's eyes blazed with sudden radiance, her cheeks flushing rose-pink as she nodded.
Snape guided her from the ballroom with quiet stealth, their footsteps echoing softly in the empty corridor. Orli's exhaustion was becoming apparent—her elegant heels had begun torturing her feet, making each step precarious.
After a moment's consideration, Snape withdrew his wand and cast a gentle Hovering Charm.
Orli gasped in delighted surprise, both hands clutching his with desperate trust as she floated eight inches above the marble floor, suspended like a dancer in moonlit water.
"Better?" Snape asked, that rare smile still gracing his features.
He led her through the castle's winding passages, back to their private sanctuary at the tower's peak, before gently lowering her to solid ground. The door closed with a soft click behind them as he turned to face her.
"Still in the mood for dancing?"
Orli hesitated for the briefest heartbeat, then smiled with luminous warmth:
"One final dance?"
"One final dance," Snape agreed, feeling his last defenses crumble like ancient parchment. The rational barriers in his mind had dissolved completely tonight—he would have promised her anything, granted any wish...
Music swelled around them, ethereal and haunting, as they moved across the Persian carpet in perfect synchronization. The world spun dizzyingly until Orli stumbled, nearly tumbling backward. Snape caught her instantly—one arm circling her waist, the other braced against the stone wall, trapping her within the sanctuary of his embrace.
Silence.
Profound, eternal silence.
Every sense felt magnified beyond human endurance.
He could hear his thundering pulse, see his reflection swimming in her dilated pupils, feel her arms slowly winding around his neck with butterfly softness. She drew him closer, inexorably closer to her flushed cheeks, to her parted lips...
At the final, crucial moment, he froze.
Their foreheads touched, breath mingling in the charged space between them, but he could go no further.
When he finally spoke, his voice emerged hollow and lifeless, threaded with self-loathing:
"Enough, Waters. This ends now."
He attempted to retreat, but Orli's arms tightened around his neck with surprising strength. Tears gathered like diamonds in her eyes while fury blazed in her voice:
"Waters? You're calling me Waters again?"
"That's precisely what I should call you," he replied with arctic precision, though his hands remained frozen, unable to pry her away.
"Unless you're suffering from multiple personalities, you've orchestrated this entire charade from the beginning, haven't you?"
This time Orli released him, stepping back with eyes that burned like green fire—an expression of rage he'd never witnessed before.
"Waters, where are your manners and breeding?" he snarled, his aggression masking profound vulnerability.
"This isn't Gryffindor's Waters speaking to Professor Snape—this is Orli Waters confronting Severus Snape, so spare me your lectures about propriety!"
Her voice rose to a furious crescendo:
"You planned this from the very beginning—dragging me to France, living these weeks like they're your final month on earth, because you've convinced yourself you're living on borrowed time!"
She was magnificent in her rage, kicking off her torturous heels to pace the carpet like a caged lioness:
"Making me assist with the Wolfsbane improvements, adding my name to your research, bringing me to this conference, forcing me to demonstrate with those damned seedpods, even drilling me on every insignificant name and face..."
She fixed him with a stare that could have melted steel, though traitorous tears spilled down her cheeks:
"I'd have to be completely blind not to see you're building my future reputation, because you're convinced you won't survive the next decade!"
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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