"You insufferable, ARROGANT, UNBEARABLE KNOW IT ALL"
Snape couldn't remember a time when his patience had been tested so much so as to raise his voice in such a manner. Severus Snape never raised his voice: he killed comments with a single passing glance, or a murderous sentence uttered in hardly more than a whisper.
He was about to lose his wit and all composite when silence hit them both, and it was easy to slip back into his usual controlled self. (After all, he'd been so during almost all his lifetime). His conscience could be at least put at ease knowing he had enough mind clarity for them both.
and she was being nonsensical.
snape staggered inwardly, trying to put the pieces slowly together. the apprenticeship, his feeble attempt at a duel, the separation, now this...
no, he hadn't anticipated any of this. miss granger was clever (oh, she was clever) but he would have at least glimpsed a sign or two. (right?) or could she really be that controlled when not on edge?
severus tried not to think too much how he felt about all this. (because, judging by the ridiculous attachment which he had just recently began to acknowledge, there was only one way to go, and it was downhill from there, and snape was raised better than that).
but she seemed insufferably hell bent on giving him the night (more like the year his mind retorted), as was evidenced by her next words.
"miss granger" he almost interrupted, impatiently before controlling himself. he retorted seriously but with brutal stoicism --a miracle given his inner turmoil over all the things he wanted but shouldn't (and would never be) (
ooc: phrasing chosen exclusively for dramatic purposes, of course)
then he realized, truth hitting him hard like cold water over his long hair and robe, that she was very likely playing with him.
"you'd be disappointed to find my chambers uninteresting. unless of course, you intend to get yourself expelled by being fucked by a professor of about the age of your father within these walls."
"and, in case it had escaped your notice, these aren't my chambers. this is the headmaster's floor."
snape waved his hand (quill gripped and all), exposing all the numerous portraits that were pretending to be too perfectly sound asleep.
and he was certain he would be getting two month's worth of disapproval by the dumbledore hanging on the wall, high up and right across of his chair.
he could tell him all he wanted. nothing was going to happen, and that should be enough to put the painted authorities at ease.
slytherin headmaster, slytherin way.