The Halfblood Princess
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Last Summer in Cokeworth
🕑 Added 2025-02-02 11:52:48 +0000 UTCCokeworth in summer was even more miserable. Filled with the kind of heat that settled into the brick and asphalt during the day and oozed out long after the sun had gone down. The factories had shut down for the day, but their stink still hung in the air. Metal and burnt oil, rust and coal, amplified by the soupy humidity. You could almost taste the acrid grime in the back of your throat. The river was low this time of year, cutting a sluggish path through the town and adding to the miasma.
I had been walking aimlessly for hours like a stray dog just to avoid going back to the house I was supposed to call home. There was nothing waiting for me there but tense silence. My mother was probably hiding in the bedroom and my father passed out in his chair, marinating in the stale stink of the pub down the road.
I sat underneath a tree at the riverbank and stared out over the water, trying not to think of the conversation I had overheard in the corner shop earlier that day.
Have you heard? Lily Evans got engaged!
She had been my world. And now I wasn’t even an afterthought in hers. No letter. No warning. Just a snippet passed between two women who didn’t even realise what those words did to me.
I closed my eyes. The thought of her and Potter… It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
A door slammed in the distance. A dog barked. Somewhere, a car rattled down the uneven road up the bank. And then, suddenly, there came the grating creaking of metal.
"Oi! Mind helping me?"
I turned my head slightly to see a girl up by the road, staring down at me.
She was pushing a bicycle. It looked old with rust eating at the frame, the kind of thing that had been repaired too many times to ever be truly functional again. The chain dangled uselessly on the ground.
She looked familiar. Not like a name, not even a full memory, but a face I had seen before. A half-formed recollection of someone who had been part of the town’s background.
“Sure, I can take a look.”
She cautiously pushed the rusty thing down the grassy slope. Her dress was well worn and carefully stitched in places. She wasn’t delicate like the Lilys and Narcissas of the world. Her skin was sun-worn and ruddy. Her dark hair was windswept and stuck to her sweaty forehead. A deep purple bruise bloomed near her knee, another, almost faded, along her upper arm. She looked like she was built from the same rough edges as Cokeworth itself.
She halted a few paces away and tilted her head.
"Aren’t you that lad from Spinner’s End?"
There was no mockery in her voice. Just idle curiosity, like she was asking about the weather.
"I don’t see how that’s any of your business," I muttered.
She made a humming noise, like she was considering that then nudged the bike forward. "Chain’s slipped. Again. You gonna be useful or just sit there sulking?"
Something about her tone, unbothered, unimpressed, itched under my skin. I let out a sharp breath, debating whether to tell her to sod off after all. I didn't.
"Give it here," I said and got to my feet.
She smirked as she flicked back the kickstand. I crouched to examine the chain, knowing full well I had no idea how to fix a bloody bike. At least not the Muggle way. With a quick, whispered spell, however, the chain slipped neatly back onto the sprockets. “There.”
"Huh," she managed, before I returned to my spot under the tree to gaze at the dark river. Most people would take the hint and leave. But she didn’t. She lingered like a stray cat.
"Do you always bother people who clearly want to be left alone?"
"You always sulk by the river or is this a special occasion?" she shot back.
I glowered at her but she just grinned. Then she pulled a cigarette from the depths of her dress and lit it with an old silver lighter. The brief flare caught the sharp line of her jaw before the lid snapped shut with a metallic click.
"Well? Go on then. Tell me to piss off proper and I’ll go."
I opened my mouth to tell her exactly that, but for some reason the words didn’t come.
And I wasn’t sure why.
She sat down next to me and took a long drag, then held it out to me. I ignored it. "What? You too good or something?"
I rolled my eyes and took it from her, inhaling deeply. The smoke burned in my throat before curling up into the night.
"You’re that Snape boy, aren’t you? Knew I’d seen you about," she said and reached for the cigarette. "Didn’t think you still lived here."
I turned to look at her properly. "You don’t know anything about me," I said and plucked the cigarette back from her.
"Aye, and you don’t know a thing about me either, so we’re even, yeah?"
For a few minutes we shared the cigarette without another word, just two people who had nowhere else to be. When she took the final drag, she flicked the butt into the grass and stood. “Thanks.”
I nodded, keeping my silence as she picked up her bike and trudged back up the slope. I caught myself following the line of her tanned legs as she hauled the unwieldy thing up the hill and quickly looked away. When I took another glance, she was already at the top. And then she was gone.
***
I told myself it was just coincidence.
The first night after fixing her bike, I found myself back by the river. I hadn’t meant to come, but somehow my feet had carried me there anyway.
I sat beneath the same tree, smoking a cigarette, when the sound of wheels on the road appeared.
I looked up just as she coasted into view, one foot dragging against the ground to slow herself. She wasn’t pushing the bike this time. The chain must have held.
"You again," she said as she wandered over.
"Me again."
She came down and propped the bike up against the tree.
"Starting to think you live here."
"Maybe I just like the view."
She snorted and snatched the cigarette from my fingers like it was hers to take. She took a deep drag before settling down next to me. I caught the scent of sweat, of tobacco, of something faintly metallic. Maybe from her job, wherever that was.
"If you say so."
That was how it started.
We didn’t arrange to meet.
We just did.
I told myself I wasn’t waiting for her, and maybe she told herself the same thing. But she still rolled up on that battered old bike, kicked down the stand and settled in beside me like it was something we had agreed upon.
She never asked why I was there and neither did I. It was strange how easy it became.
She wasn’t like the girls at Hogwarts; prim, careful with their words, either intrigued by me or repelled entirely.
She wasn’t like Lily either, soft in ways that made it impossible not to want her, to want everything she was.
This girl, she wasn’t soft. She was rugged and tough like Cokeworth itself. There was no gentleness in her, no false sweetness. She spoke the way people did here, plain and unfiltered, full of dry humor and the kind of realism that made hope seem foolish.
"You talk posh for a lad from Spinner’s End," she said once, after I had corrected her on something.
"I have standards," I muttered.
"Yeah? And what good’ve they done you?"
I scowled. She laughed.
She liked to pick at me. I could tell. Not in a cruel way, just for the fun of it. She prodded at the way I spoke, at my testiness and at my tendency to overthink things.
I tried to act like it annoyed me but it didn’t. I was beginning to enjoy it.
The night she told me her name, it was almost an accident.
She had been laughing at something I said. Really laughing, head tilted back, her teeth flashing in the low light.
"What?" I asked and frowned.
"Nothing. You’re just not half as miserable as you pretend to be, that’s all."
"I don’t pretend–"
"Oh, sure you do. You’re all doom and gloom, but look at you, sittin’ here every night, enjoying a cigarette like we’re old friends."
I huffed, rolling my eyes. "We’re not friends."
"No? Well, seeing as we keep meeting, you should probably at least know my name."
She said it, like it wasn’t important, like it didn’t matter at all.
I repeated it once. She grinned. "See? Now we’re almost friends."
I didn’t correct her.
***
One night, the air was so thick with heat, the humidity stuck to my skin and made my shirt cling uncomfortably to my back.
She rolled to a stop beside me and her hair hung in damp strands against her temples.
"Hell’s got to be cooler than this," she muttered and wiped at her neck.
I flicked my cigarette ash into the dirt. "I imagine we’ll both find out sooner or later."
She grinned and sat down next to me.
That night, we didn’t talk much. Just passed cigarettes back and forth and watched the night sky.
It was strange, the kind of silence we had. Not uncomfortable, not full of expectation. Just... there.
She was lying on her back, legs stretched out, one arm folded behind her head with her cigarette smouldering between her fingers. I sat beside her, cross-legged, drawing nonsense in the dirt with a stick.
"You ever think about the future?" she asked suddenly.
"Of course."
She exhaled smoke toward the sky. "No, I mean really think about it. Not just like, ‘Oh, one day, I’ll go here, I’ll do this.’ I mean… properly think about where you’re actually gonna end up."
I frowned. "That’s the same thing."
"It’s not." She looked at me with those cynical eyes. "You can dream up a future all you want. Don’t mean it’s real."
I paused and thought about my real future. The one that had already been decided. I thought about the promises I had made, the power I had been offered, the path I had set myself on.
And then I thought about Lily. Marrying James Potter. Becoming Lily Potter.
I swallowed down the sudden lump in my throat and stared at the river. "I know where I’m going."
"Yeah? And where’s that?"
I didn’t answer.
She didn’t push.
Instead she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. "I know where I’m going too. Plain as day."
"Oh?"
She smirked, but there was something tired about it. "Aye. I’ll marry some bloke from down the factory. Have a couple of kids. Work the same job until my back gives out. Die in Cokeworth, just like everyone else."
Something twisted in my chest.
"That’s it?"
"That’s it."
I scoffed. "That’s stupid. You could do something else."
She gave me an amused look. "Could I?"
"Yes," I snapped. "You could leave. Go somewhere else."
"Go where?"
"Anywhere."
"And what would I do, then?" She flicked the cigarette away. "Not all of us have a world waiting for us."
I didn’t say anything. Because she was right. She didn’t have a world waiting for her. She wasn’t like me, born with magic, called to something greater by fate or power or desperation.
She was just a girl from Cokeworth, living a life that had already been laid out for her long before she even had a chance to make her own choices.
"You don’t have to stay."
"And you don’t have to go where you’re going," she countered.
I glared at her, but she stared back at me defiantly. "Do you?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it.
Neither of us said anything.
Then she sighed and rolled onto her back again. "Dunno why we’re talkin’ about this. Just makes it worse, don’t it?"
I stared at the river and my hands curled into fists. "Yeah."
We didn’t talk about it again.
***
One night we sat as we always did, cross-legged in the dirt, sharing a cigarette while the world moved along without us.
"Bloody hell," she hissed and jolted upright like the ground itself had bitten her. She shook out her hand. "Bastard stung me."
I glanced up. "What?"
She scowled and rubbed at her forearm. "Dunno. Some weed got me. Stings like hell."
I looked to where she was pointing and grinned. “That’s not a weed, it’s a nettle.”
“So?” she huffed, still fussing with her arm.
“So, it’s hardly useless. It has medicinal properties. Used to reduce inflammation.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Brilliant. Maybe I’ll rub some on and see if that helps.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not how it works.”
“Nah? Then enlighten me, professor.”
I ignored the dig. “There’s a cure, you know.”
“Oh yeah? Let me guess. Another one of these bloody weeds?”
“Actually, yes.” I trudged over to the river’s edge and plucked a broad green leaf. “Dock leaf. Rub it on the sting. It should neutralise it.”
It was obvious she didn’t believe a single word. “You just making that up.”
“Feel free to keep moaning instead.”
She reached for the dock leaf and pressed it against her arm.
“Huh. Think it’s working.”
“Of course it is,” I muttered.
Her eyes suddenly gleamed mischievously. “Knew you were a proper little professor.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? Suits you.”
I glowered, but she only laughed. “All right, professor,” she said and pointed to another plant near the bank. “What’s that one, then?”
***
It became our game.
Each evening she would nod at some random patch of overgrown greenery and say, “Go on, professor, what’s that one?”
Every time I’d sigh and roll my eyes before giving in.
“Mugwort. People thought it kept away evil spirits.”
“Foxglove. Poisonous if you’re not careful. Causes hallucinations.”
“Yarrow. Old battlefield remedy. Helps stop bleeding.”
She’d smirk but never interrupted though she went to great lengths to trip me up.
“Oi, professor,” she said one night and held up a wildflower I’d identified only the day before. “What about this one?”
“You know that already.”
“Maybe I forgot.”
“You didn’t.”
“Maybe I just want to see if you’ll get it wrong.”
“I won’t.”
She grinned and tucked the flower behind her ear like a trophy. “One day, I’ll catch you out.”
“Doubt it.”
***
Some nights, when she wasn’t looking, I tried to read her mind. I wasn’t skilled at Legilimency yet, but I could sense things. Faint emotions. The crude shape of thoughts.
With her, I got… nothing.
It was strange. At Hogwarts, people’s minds had always been like unlocked doors. Most didn’t even realise I was there when I tested their defenses. But she was different. Whenever I tried, all I got was a kind of thick, unreadable static. Not resistance. Not walls. Just… silence.
It irritated me.
"You're impossible, " I muttered once, more to myself than to her.
“What d’you mean?"
I blushed. "You’re… impossible to read."
"Good," she replied and took another drag from her cigarette as she glanced over at me. Her eyes lingered. Not in the way girls at Hogwarts used to look at me, half-wary, half-pityingly. It was different somehow and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I pretended that I didn’t notice as I shifted my position, suddenly acutely aware of my lanky limbs and unsure where to put them.
"You always this twitchy?"
"You always this nosy?"
She blew out a slow stream of smoke and watched it vanish into the warm night air. "Maybe I just like studying people."
I scoffed. "Then study someone else."
"Nah. You’re more fun."
I didn’t know why, but the comment sat strangely in my chest.
That night on my walk home I caught my reflection in a shop window. My hair was falling limply in my face as usual, my clothes slightly too big on my thin body, my skin still gaunt from years of underfed childhood. I looked… pitiful.
The next night I cast a spell before heading to the river. Nothing drastic. Just a bit of magic to neaten my hair, adjust the fit of my clothes so they hung less awkwardly on me.
When she arrived, she didn’t say anything.
But she noticed.
I knew she noticed.
I caught her watching me more often after that. And it felt... good.
***
The air was different that night. The heat was the same, thick with suffocating humidity, but there was something else underneath it. A tension. A shift.
She had arrived later than usual. I had been waiting. Not that I would ever say it out loud. She didn’t roll up on her bike. She was walking. That alone was strange.
"Where’s your bike?"
"Chain’s slipped again," she said with a shrug. Her voice was as easy as always. But there was something different about her. I noticed it immediately.
She looked cleaner in a way. Not polished. Not like she had tried to make herself something she wasn’t, but there was an effort there. Her hair was still dark and wild, but she had tucked it back in places instead of letting it hang in her face. Her dress was different too. Not new, because nothing either of us wore was ever new. But nicer. It looked like she had actually chosen it instead of just putting on whatever was clean.
It was subtle. But it was enough. Enough to make me take a second look.
And that was when I felt it.
Something had changed. She looked at me and for the first time, I was the one who looked away.
"Fancy a walk?" she said and tilted her head toward the river.
We never walked. We always sat. Under the tree, on the dirt, close enough to pass a cigarette but never too close.
"Alright."
So we walked.
The farther we went, the quieter Cokeworth became.
The factories dwindled to nothing but dark shapes in the distance as we followed the winding river toward something greener. The streetlamps were small dots behind us now and the only light came from the moon above. The air smelled less suffocating and more like fresh damp earth. I had never been this far before. Neither had she, I realised.
Eventually we reached a stretch of grass hidden behind a thicket of brambles that shouldn’t have existed in Cokeworth. Untamed and untouched by the industrial blight. Like a secret garden between the river and the trees.
She kicked off her sandals and walked barefoot onto the grass with almost childlike delight as she stretched her arms over her head.
"Well, look at that. Didn’t know this place had anything pretty in it."
I just stood there with my hands still in my pockets, watching her.
The breeze caught her dress and made it ripple around her knees. Something about the way she looked in that moment – so confident and carefree – it stirred something hot and wild inside me.
I had never looked at her like this before. Never really thought about her like this before. But now, standing here… I was thinking about it. It wasn’t love, I realised. Just… curiosity. Teenage, restless, half-formed curiosity.
We sat down in the grass. Too close. The shift in space, the way our knees nearly touched, the way her fingers fidgeted slightly with the hem of her dress. Neither of us acknowledged it.
She pulled a cigarette from her pocket, lit it with her silver lighter, and took a slow drag. Then she passed it to me without a word.
There was no banter tonight. No teasing. Just the low sound of the river and the occasional rustle of an animal in the underbrush.
The cigarette burned lower.
It felt like something was about to happen, something inevitable, something that had been coming for a while but that neither of us had been brave enough to name yet.
I flicked the cigarette ash into the grass, took another drag, passed it back.
She took it, but she wasn’t watching me anymore. She was watching the river with her arms wrapped loosely around her knees in a way that wasn’t quite relaxed.
The cigarette burned down between us, and when she flicked the last of it away into the grass, it felt like the world was holding its breath.
I glanced at her surreptitiously through the dark curtain of my hair. And then, without really thinking, I tried again.
Legilimens.
Just a nudge. The faintest brush. And this time, I felt it.
Not words or concrete thoughts. It was a knowing. She wasn’t indifferent. Wasn’t just watching the river because it was interesting. She was waiting for me to do something.
I had never made a move toward a girl before, never thought of myself as someone who could. But here, in the dark, with nothing but the river and the hum of summer air around us, with her sitting too close… I reached out.
My fingers tentatively brushed the inside of her wrist. It was barely a touch, barely anything at all. But she didn’t flinch. Nor did she pull away. She simply turned her palm up like she had been waiting for it.
I was simultaneously hot and cold, could feel the blood pulsing hot and thick in my neck and then my fingers intertwined with hers.
My heart pounded in my ears as I leaned in and guided her back into the grass.
She let me.
I leaned over her, hovering just close enough to feel her breath against my skin, warm and steady. For once, she wasn’t smirking. She was watching me. Expectantly. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel like a shadow. I wasn’t second to someone else. She was looking at me. Not through me. Not past me.
Me.
I lowered my head. And finally, finally, kissed her.
The moment my lips touched hers, my mind blanked. I had imagined kissing before, in the abstract. Thought about it in the same way I thought about dueling or potion making. Theoretically, strategically, as something people did like it was a formula. But thinking about it and doing it were entirely different things.
This was real. And she wasn’t laughing. She wasn’t pulling away. She wasn’t doing any of the things I had feared she would. Instead, she kissed me back. And that, well, that was almost worse.
Because I had no idea what I was doing. My lips pressed too softly, then too firmly, as I tried to find the right balance. My nose brushed against hers awkwardly, and I could feel panic welling up inside me.
She’s going to laugh. She’s going to tell me I’m terrible at this.
But she didn’t.
She just tilted her head slightly, adjusting, guiding without correcting, matching my movements like she had done it a million times before. Teaching me for once.
I stopped thinking and allowed my body to figure it out. My fingers found her waist as I moved closer and shifted my weight more fully over her. She smelled like tobacco and summer heat, like the wild overgrowth of the riverbank. And when she made a soft, barely-there sound against my lips, something inside me snapped.
I kissed her deeper, somehow emboldened by her reactions and I stopped second-guessing. In fact, I wasn’t thinking about anything at all any longer.
Her hands moved first, sliding under my shirt. Soft and warm and tender against my skin.
I shuddered. Not from the night air, but from the sheer bliss of being touched like that. She wanted this, I realised. She wanted me.
And before I even knew what I was doing, my hand was moving, too. Sliding. Testing. Fingers gliding up the outside of her thigh before dipping beneath the hem of her dress.
She didn’t stop me. She just kept going, caressing my back as she pulled me harder against her. I suddenly sat upright and tugged off my shirt. I was nothing but skin and bones and sharp angles. Under any other circumstances I would have been self-conscious, embarrassed even.
But I wasn’t. Because she was looking at me like I was something she wanted to see. And before I could overthink it I leaned down and kissed her again while my hand pushed further up her thigh.
I found the edge of her knickers and I paused. My breath came in ragged pulls as I kissed her neck, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. She didn’t direct me or rush me; she just let me explore with my clumsy, inexperienced hands. And then I tugged at them. She lifted her hips to help and then they were gone. What was I doing? This was real beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Could I go through with it? Did I even want to? Yes. No. Maybe. This was all so new, so immediate. I was discovering not just her, but an entirely different version of myself – someone bold, someone capable. Someone who, for once, could simply take what he wanted.
Her hand reached up and touched my face as if to pull me back into the moment. “Kiss me, professor.”
I looked down at her, half-expecting her to tell me that this was all some elaborate prank. But she didn’t. Her eyes were serious, and then her hand was on mine. She showed me, not with words but with her body, her hand guiding mine in sure movements. I studied the way her face changed, the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted and the subtle arching of her hips. All of it was a kind of silent language, and I was trying to learn it as quickly as I could.
Her breath came in uneven bursts as she moved my fingers exactly how she wanted them. I felt like an intruder at first. But she held me there, kept me there, and I began to understand that this wasn't just for her. She was giving me something, too. Confidence. And a glimpse of what it meant to be desired. She moaned softly. It was the first real sound she'd made, and it echoed around in my head. Could I make her do that again? And again? The realisation that I had that power was exhilarating.
I started to anticipate her needs, applying what she'd taught me with a growing surety. She shifted slightly and my thumb brushed against a new place. That sent a jolt through her. Her hips bucked and she bit down on her lower lip, stifling another moan. I did it again. And again until I settled on a rhythm that had her tensing before melting back into the grass. Curiosity gnawed at me. What would it feel like? Her wetness coated my fingers and I hesitated only for a moment before slipping one inside her. She gasped and her eyes flew open, then shut again. It was warm and slick. My finger explored with a kind of clinical curiosity at first. It was different than I had imagined; hotter, tighter, more intimate. Her breathing grew louder, more urgent, and I watched her face intently. She looked almost pained, but I knew she wasn't. This was pleasure distorting her face into something raw and beautiful.
Her hips started to move in small circles, grinding against my hand. She was taking control without taking it away from me, showing me exactly how she wanted it. I tried to keep up, to follow her lead. She was so wet now, so ready, and the thought of what could come next sent a rush of blood through me. Suddenly she tensed up and her hands clutched mine tightly, digging almost painfully into my skin as she clenched around my fingers. I had done that, I realised with sudden pride.
She sighed and stretched lazily in the grass. I watched her, still caught somewhere between disbelief and triumph. Then she opened her eyes and grinned up at me. “You planning to just sit there and stare at me all night, professor?” Her eyes dipped down to the bulge in my jeans as she propped herself up on one elbow. “Or are you gonna do something about it?”
I pulled her up to a sitting position and reached for the hem of her dress. In one swift motion, I tugged it up and over her head. Her bra was plain and practical, the kind of thing bought for function rather than allure. But it didn't matter. I reached around and unhooked it with only a little difficulty, then slid the straps down her arms until it too fell away.
Her breasts were round and heavy and I couldn't stop staring. I had never seen a girl naked before, never been allowed to look so openly. My erection throbbed almost painfully now.
“Well?”
I stood up and undid my fly with shaking hands, shoving my jeans and underpants down my hips. My hardness sprang free, bobbing slightly as I kicked the rest of my clothes away. It should have been awkward, but it wasn't. Because she was looking at me like she wanted to devour me.
"Come here." Her voice had lost its rough edges.
I knelt back down in front of her. She ran a hand down my chest and over my ribs like she was counting them.
"You want this?" she asked. It wasn't teasing.
"Yes," I said, surprising myself with how sure I sounded.
Then her familiar smirk lit up her face as she lay back in the grass. "Then take it."
I positioned myself over her. My cock brushed against her thigh, then slid up along her wetness. I had to grit my teeth to keep from coming right then and there. She reached down between us and wrapped her hand around my length. She guided me to her entrance and then I sank inside. My mind went blank. It was better than anything I had imagined in my awkward, lonely moments of self-exploration. The reality of it made every fantasy look crude in comparison.
I held still, partly to get adjusted to the feeling and partly because I was afraid that any movement would end this moment too soon. She shifted her hips slightly and I let out a strangled moan.
"Move," she whispered.
I obeyed, pulling out slightly and then pushing back in. I did it again and again, slowly finding a rhythm. It was clumsy at first but soon our bodies moved together like they had never known any different. My orgasm was approaching fast, tightening, pulling, demanding. I barely noticed the way my breath hitched, the way my thrusts grew less controlled. I was close…so close.
And then my brain kicked in. Not slowly. Not gently. But like a slap to the face.
I hadn’t thought about it. Not once. Not until this exact moment.
We were using no protection. Nothing.
The panic hit me like a brick to the chest but I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stop. My body wouldn’t stop. The feeling was too good, too overwhelming, dragging me forward whether I wanted it to or not. I tried to slow down, but somehow that just made it worse.
“Shit!” The word came out strained, uneven, panicked. She noticed immediately. Her fingers tightened on my shoulders. Then she smirked. That smug, knowing smirk, like she had been waiting for me to catch up. Oh, Merlin, kill me now.
She pulled my face down to hers, and in a voice far too amused for my current predicament, she murmured,
"Breathe, professor."
I couldn’t.
She grinned and shifted beneath me, which sent a full-body shudder straight through me. My panic turned desperate.
"Just pull out, yeah?"
Oh. Right. I could do that. I could absolutely do that. And then it was happening. There was no coordination, just awkward fumbling, frantic scrambling, and then–
Oh, fuck.
I collapsed onto my forearms, shaky, breathless, as the world tilted around me.
And she? She was still grinning. Not smugly. Just deeply entertained.
I groaned and hid my head in the crook of her neck. “Shut up.”
"Didn’t say anything."
The world didn't feel different. Not in the grand, life-altering way I had imagined. Not in the way books and stories made it seem, where suddenly everything clicked into place and made sense.
No. It just felt… messy. Sticky. And hot.
A fresh wave of embarrassment crashed over me. It was everywhere.
My face burned.
For one wild second, I thought about using a spell. But of course I couldn’t. So I had to make do. I grimaced and reached around blindly for my shirt in the grass. With a deep, miserable sigh, I picked it up and wiped myself off.
“Didn’t think you had it in you.”
"Thanks," I muttered.
She sat up and brushed a kiss over my lips.
“I liked it.”
She reached over and grabbed her crumpled dress from the grass to get a cigarette from the pocket.
Of course.
Then she sank back into the grass, completely naked and completely at ease. She turned her head and patted the space beside her.
"Lie down, professor."
There we were, sprawled out in the grass, with nothing between us but this strange, quiet comfort. Not too close. Not too cuddly. Just relaxed.
I stared up at the sky, still trying to make sense of everything. The black sky was endless and I could almost imagine that we were the only two people in the world. She passed me the cigarette, but this time, there was no tension in the touch.
I took a slow drag and let the burn settle in my chest. She sighed deeply and stretched her arms overhead like a wild creature comfortable in its own skin. "Admit it, that was more fun than your weeds, wasn’t it?"
"I suppose." I tried to look unaffected as I took another drag. In reality I felt like I had just unlocked some secret power no one else knew about. And I wanted more.
I could feel her eyes on me. I turned my head and sure enough, she was smirking.
"One shag and he’s gotten cocky already."
I narrowed my eyes and bit back a laugh. "Shut up."
"No, really, professor, this is a great moment. I think we should take a second to–"
I didn’t let her finish.
I flicked the cigarette into the grass and pinned her underneath me. Then I kissed her. Not the way I had kissed her the first time. This was different. Certain and self-assured. Not because I had figured everything out, but because I knew now that I didn’t have to.
She gasped in surprise and I grinned against her mouth, still half-drunk on the sheer power of knowing what I was capable of.
But eventually, we had to move.
She sat up first and reached for her dress, shaking out the wrinkles before slipping it over her head with the same effortless ease she did everything else. Her bra was tucked away in her pocket.
I picked up my shirt, and then I remembered.
Oh. Right.
It was still sticky, only now it was the cold kind of sticky. I stared at it for a second before I yanked it over my head.
She snickered quietly, but mercifully didn't comment on it.
We started walking back towards the tree, back towards the real world. Still the same people as before, only not quite.
We didn’t hold hands or link arms. We just walked. Not as lovers. Just two people who didn’t feel the need to put a label on that thing between us.
***
It became routine after that.
Like the cigarettes. Like the river. Like the long stretches of silence where neither of us said much but neither of us left either. Only now, it wasn’t just talking. It wasn’t just cigarettes shared between almost friends, and sarcastic banter in the dark.
It was more.
Every night, she came to me. And every night, we ended up tangled together in the grass. There was no talk of feelings. We made no promises. Neither of us asked questions about what this meant or where it was going. It was just something we did.
And I liked it.
More than that. I needed it.
For once in my life, I had something that wasn’t complicated. That wasn’t wrapped up in regret or uncomfortable feelings. For a while I didn’t think about Lily or James. Or the future that was waiting for me at the end of the summer. When I was with her, I wasn’t anyone but myself. Not the weird lad from Spinner’s End. Not a Death Eater in waiting. Not the perpetual second choice. Just me.
And then, one night, she didn’t come.
I waited under the tree with one cigarette after another burning low and forgotten between my fingers. I kept glancing toward the road, expecting to see the wobbling front wheel of her bike.
Nothing.
The next night, she still didn’t come.
And the night after that.
And the night after that.
And I kept showing up. Every night. Long after it became clear that she wouldn’t.
***
The summer was ending. Tomorrow I would be leaving this miserable place. Not for Hogwarts though. This time I was leaving for Malfoy Manor. For a future I had already committed to even if it no longer felt like a choice.
And yet, here I was. Sitting under the tree like an idiot. Like a boy who refused to accept what had already happened. I had stopped expecting her to show up. At least that’s what I told myself.
"Evening, professor."
I nearly jumped.
Her voice was the same as ever, low and rough around the edges, tinged with amusement like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t vanished for days. Like she hadn’t left me here waiting, feeling like a complete fool.
My pulse kicked up despite myself. She stood there, holding a cigarette already between her fingers. She looked the same as before and somehow that made me angrier.
"Didn’t think you were coming."
She sank onto the ground beside me.
"Yeah. Sorry about that."
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even look at her. We just sat in silence like nothing had happened. But eventually she spoke. And in a voice quieter than usual, she said, "I got engaged."
I froze. Of course she had, I thought bitterly. Just like Lily.
"Well, congratulations."
"Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying."
I scoffed and took a deep, sharp inhale of smoke just to keep my hands from shaking.
"So that’s it, then? You're off to settle down? Marry some bloke, have a couple of kids, work till your back gives out?"
She didn’t even look offended. "Yeah," she said simply. "That’s it."
Of course it was. That was always going to be it. I just hadn’t let myself believe it until now. I should have walked away and never looked back. But I didn’t. Because she didn’t. She just sat there, smoking. Like she always did.
"You wanna take a walk?" She asked it casually, as if it wasn’t a loaded question.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew exactly where this was going. And I knew I shouldn’t. Not after she had told me, straight-faced, that she had chosen someone else. I should have told her to go back to him, said something sharp and cruel and let my pride carry me home.
But I couldn’t. Because I still wanted her. Because she had come back, even just for tonight. And perhaps because, just one last time I wanted to take what I could get before it was gone.
So I flicked my cigarette away, stood up, and said,
"Yeah. Let’s walk."
We walked in silence. Neither of us asked where we were going. We both knew it. My mind was fighting itself, but every step felt like a slow, inevitable surrender. I walked beside her with my hands shoved in my pockets. When we reached the clearing I wasn’t surprised when she turned to me and kissed me.
I didn’t move. Or kiss her back. I didn’t let my hands reach for her like they wanted to. Because I was too proud. And too hurt. I had spent the summer thinking that this was different. That she wasn’t like the others. But in the end, she had done the same damn thing.
Gone and gotten engaged. Settled for some dull, safe, normal life that had nothing to do with me.
I should have hated her for it and pushed her away. Left with my pride intact. But I didn’t. Because the second I felt her fingers sliding beneath my shirt, the second she pressed herself against me, my body betrayed me. A low groan rumbled in my throat, and suddenly, my hands weren’t in my pockets anymore.
I still wanted her. More than I wanted to punish her. More than I wanted to be right and let my pride win. So when she kissed me again, I kissed her back. Harder this time. Like it meant nothing. Like it meant everything.
There was no urgency. No frantic hands that fumbled clumsily in the dark. It wasn’t like the first time when I had been too nervous to think. This was quieter and heavier. As if, even though we hadn’t said it, we both knew this was the last time. She touched me with purpose, like she was trying to take something of me with her. And I let her. Because I was doing the same.
The grass was cool beneath us. There was no teasing. We just moved together in a familiar rhythm and for the first time, it wasn’t about me trying to prove something, trying to impress her, trying to show her I was worth choosing.
Because she wasn’t choosing me.
We had both known exactly what this was. It was never meant to last. We weren’t in love but it still hurt.
I knew that I would miss her just like I knew that I would never see her again. She’d go off to marry some nameless, faceless man. Live some quiet life I wouldn’t be a part of.
But I could still come back to this. To the heat of her summer skin, to the sound of the river and the breeze in the treetops. To the feeling of one last night beneath the Cokeworth sky, making love to someone who was already gone.
When it was over, she did something she had never done before.
"Walk me home?"
I blinked. We always parted at the tree. I never asked where she lived. I didn’t even know her job.
But tonight, she asked.
And I said yes.
***
The walk was silent and the streets mostly empty, save for the occasional drunk shape stumbling home from the pub, or a cat’s eyes glowing briefly in the dark.
When we reached her house, I stopped a few paces away and shoved my hands deep in my pockets. The house was grimy and old, brick worn down from rain and smoke, much like my own.
She turned to me and neither of us said anything. Because what was there to say? That I didn’t want her to go? That I hated that this was ending? That I hated that she was choosing this life, that she had chosen someone else, that she had left me waiting for days and then came back just to say goodbye? None of that would change anything. And I wasn't even sure I wanted it to change anything.
So instead, I kissed her.
One last time.
It was a different kind of kiss. Not careless and easy. It wasn’t something I could shrug off or pretend meant nothing. It was secret. Forbidden. And that made it all the better. And all the worse.
She sighed into my mouth and flung her arms around my neck. A light in an upstairs window turned on and she pulled away. Her eyes roamed over me one last time.
"Goodbye, professor."
And with that, she disappeared into the house, leaving me alone on the street, with nothing but the taste of her still on my lips.
I walked back to Spinner’s End. The night had cooled slightly, but I still felt too hot and restless. It was inside of me and I was unable to shake it off. A door slammed somewhere in the distance, followed by the muffled sound of a man shouting. It barely registered. My mind was still back at her house. Back in the clearing, in the grass, in the heat of her body against mine. Still stuck in that last kiss. But she had made her choice. And now I had to make mine.
***
I pushed the door open without a sound. The air inside was stale, musty with the smell of damp and stale smoke. The sitting room was dark, but my father was still there, passed out in his chair with an empty bottle clutched in his hand. My mother was nowhere to be seen. Probably asleep, pretending none of this existed.
I moved carefully, stepping over the loose floorboard near the stairs. I had been doing it for years, knew every creaky spot, every place to avoid if I didn’t want to wake him.
But tonight I wasn’t thinking straight. My foot landed just an inch too far left. The wood let out a long, drawn-out creak.
I froze.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then came a slow, heavy grunt. A shift of movement followed by heavy uneven footsteps.
"What the hell are you sneakin’ ‘round for?"
I stiffened and braced myself.
His voice was thick, slurred, dripping with that familiar, slow-building anger. The kind that started low but always ended in fists.
"You think I don’t know when you come and go?" he muttered and steadied himself against the wall. His breath reeked of alcohol. "Creepin’ in here like a damn thief!"
I didn’t move or say anything. But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid.
He blinked blearily up at me with bloodshot eyes and raring for a fight. "You deaf, boy?"
I stared at him. And then I pulled out my wand.
"You put that thing away," he spat, but there was something different in his voice. Something I had never heard before. Not anger or drunken bravado.
Fear.
I let the silence stretch. Let him sit in it as I turned the wand between my fingers. Calm. Controlled.
Then in a voice quieter than his, but far more dangerous, I said,
"Or what?"
He stilled. For the first time in my life, Tobias Snape had nothing to say.
I felt it deep in my bones. The shift as the balance tipped. He wasn’t in control anymore. I was.
"That’s what I thought."
Without another glance, I turned and walked upstairs. I packed quickly. There wasn’t much to take. There never had been. I knew with a finality that there was nothing for me here. There hadn’t been for a long time. And then I left. No goodbyes. No second thoughts.
She was gone. And so was the boy I had been before her. I didn’t belong here anymore. I had something bigger now. A future that I had chosen. A path that was mine to walk. And suddenly I wasn’t afraid of what came next. A life that was finally, finally in my control. And this time, I wasn’t just walking into the future. I was ready for it.
Comments
Angela O'Brien
I know that's you my love
F C
Yes, that's me 😁
Darling
Dear halfblood princess, I think I may have read one of your first stories on ao3. Do you go by Luna Athena?
shane
Your writing is so damn amazing!
Pepisaurio
Amazing writing!!! How can I find you on Ao3? 💓
The Potions Mistress
Such an amazing story 💖
Purwoof
👍
Purwoof
Oh my goodness, incredible. You have such talent. I totally lived that. I was there. Thank you. Amazing. 💥🙏🎉
Jen Macias
This was so good!
Allee-Carter
I actually really liked it. I thought it was going to be sad because of the comments but it was more so bittersweet. 10/10
DarkRomanceSnaddyLover
I think it would be amazing if you wrote more of these they are absolutely amazing
BeelovedHoney
I am looking forward to others! Already followed you to Ao3 and reading ♥️
Hussy Mine
Always happy to be the cat amongst the pigeons...
Lilia Shico
🫂
Iron Pan
It's sad because it's beautiful
F C
Thank you 🥹☺️
F C
That is so accurate and right on the head. All these tough experiences made him into the man he is. But despite it all he never lost his good heart. That alone is a sign of what type of character he is. It would have been so easy to turn bitter and uncaring. And yet he fought till the end. Albeit covertly. Hard agree on his father 😆
F C
I wasn't planning on continuing this particular story but I will definitely write others.
F C
Thank you 😍
F C
Thank you!
F C
Nooo, don't cry 🥲
F C
His pet will take good care of him 😉
F C
Thank you 🫣😁
F C
I'll make a note for next time 😂
F C
Ugh, being young is the worst and the best, lol. You get all these first but often they're anything but magical because nobody really knows what the hell they're doing. But that's the way it goes. Thank you for reading and enjoying it 🥰
Microlulu
Haha no worries ! It was really beautiful ! ❤️ You are really talented everyone agrees 😘
F C
Agreed. I stuck to the canon timeliness for this, but maybe it gave him a little happiness.
F C
Thank you. I like her too. I just wish canonically his heart hadn't been so stuck on Lily. He could have been great with someone like this.
F C
No, no, no. I didn't mean to make everyone cry🫣
F C
Thank you so much 🥰
F C
I'm sorry to hear about your cat. Saying goodbye us never easy, even if you know it's coming 🤧 And thanks for putting an image of Indy Snape in my head now 🤣
F C
Thank you 😍
F C
Thank you!!
F C
Thank you! For the next longer storyline I'm imagining the female character a bit more confident for sure. She'll have to be more polished of course, being a fellow colleague but she will be equally unintimidated by him. And not afraid to challenge him.
F C
I love teen Severus. There's so much angst. I love it 😂
F C
Yay, you're more than welcome 😁
F C
Noooo 🥲
F C
I wouldn't mind writing more short single stories like this that don't really lend themselves to recording. I think the banter here is really important and that would be very difficult to do in an audio. So if you guys don't mind, I'd love to write more like this.
F C
I'm glad you did, I've been wanting to do this for a while and you all gave me the push 🥰
F C
Thank you 😍
F C
Don't cry 😭
AJ
Perfectly said! 🙌🏾
BeelovedHoney
Awww. This was a great story. I want to read more!
Dawn Norton
Loved this
Aimee Lynn
This was so well written and a nice story.
Iron Pan
😭 ❤️
Nat
This is incredible. So gentle and strong at the same time. So many people cheated and betrayed him. I really hope that he will find himself, strong and mutual love and build a family that he 100% deserves. ❤️❤️❤️
Darling
This was a wonderful way for us to peek into his history and see how he lost his virginity. He seems to act all big and bad, but glimpses of his insecurities, and first experiences of sex show a sensitivity of his heart. Another abandonment from another woman he had a connection with had to hurt. His whole demeanor has been shaped by a need to protect himself. I’m sad she had to leave him like that, but at least she gave him confidence in performing sex with a woman and getting in touch with his sexual nature. Great writing and a wonderful peek at the backstory of Severus’ evolution to manhood. But I would like to hit his Dad over the head with a cast iron skillet lol
Sue Eastvalley
Girl… girl! This is so well written! I shouldn’t be surprised though, you’re an amazing writer. 💗
Darling
I’m so sorry about your black cat. It’s really tough to lose a furry loved one after years of great companionship. They are in your heart forever. I always thought black cats bring you luck. Mine did. If you need to eat ice cream late at night, do it. If you need to stay in your PJs and cry or watch movies, do it. Be super kind to yourself. Sending you condolences and lots of big hugs.
Willow
This one should have the following disclaimer: Pack your bags, we're going on a feel trip.
Virginie Florentin
So sorry about your cat....
Sirts
I loved all the details, the shitty neighborhood, the weather, stink..drsperstion, sigarettes, even the brilliant 'cover picture' giving out just the perfect vibe! I felt it all, especially the juvenile nervousness.. remembering too well how bad my own first kiss was and how quickly everything can turn into a absolute disaster. How we do stupid shit just to discover and connect or even disconnected and how good mindless stuff can feel. I Loved how you kept it messy and so well in charter for portraying young people. Beautiful written and brilliantly executed. I loved it! Thank you 🙏🖤
Rucola
It was beautiful, but very sad.. he deserves so much better..
Shelbycominroundthemountain
This girl is the girl I want to be! Carefree, bold, sarcastic, but kind and loving as well. Thank you for sharing. You have such a talent for writing! 💕
Microlulu
Oh my god, that was beautiful... i cried for some reason... ☹️
_that0nesnapehead_
OMFG LOVE IT ♥
Hussy Mine
Sex is its own magic Particularly the first time. Lovely to have his 'I feel like a god!' moment on paper. He deserves it. The bright spark in my weekend. Sorry not my most inspired comment. Sitting in the dark eating the remnants of ice-cream because my black cat just died. Not devastated because he'd been ill a long time and he was old. Still, rubbish end to the weekend. Great Young Snape story though. Really pleased you didn't do an Indiana Jones to him.
Pearly
Just beautiful! 🖤
AJ
This was everything !! Omg what a great read to start my morning! More please. 🙏🏾 I loved every moment of this. Well done 👏🏾👏🏾 Thanks for sharing! 💚
Liliam Magana Delgado
This was so fantastic! I was pulled through the whole story . You draw them both in such a compelling way. I love Severus being with someone that is not prim and proper or some paragon of virtue or beauty. I guess I identify with her more than with the women he is usually paired with. Also love that it brings out the unpolished sides of him. That in this place he felt desired. Love love love any audios like this would also be appreciated. Love to see what older Severus would be like with a woman like this. Would he have forgotten this side of himself? Polished it away? Or is it still there? Either way thank you for this story
Lauren
Teen Severus needs more love and stories for sure. This was great!
Flying Banana
Thank you so much for this it was perfect! ❤️
Nyx
Im crying
DarkRomanceSnaddyLover
I loved this so much I hope we can see more soon 💓💓 It was very emotional but definitely worth it.
Riri
The puzzle piece I needed. Enjoyed this very much.❤️🙏
M. Lopez
I really love it.
Lilia Shico
Why am I crying? It's very beautiful and cute..🥲
F C
Thank you. This was a fun project 😁
Virginie Florentin
So....this is awesome. Now we know about his first time. And so well written and in character. I love it!
