"I..." Back to reality, a little less stunned by his views of her. That surge of fear is ebbing away, leaving behind an adrenaline rush that's also fading slowly. "Guess you're right." She remembers her hand on his then, and gives it a squeeze. Then, she meets his eyes. "Thanks," Darcy murmurs tipping her head to one side slightly and swaying forward just the barest bit. Almost expectantly, but only in the slightest way. "For everything."
"No more of this." Quietly, but firmly. Very seriously. "What you saw could be you. It is why I was so intent on keeping you from going at all. I know what werewolves are about."
He pins her with his gaze, and though it's clear he's still relieved, there's a tightness around his eyes that's almost a frown. "I'm not omnipresent."
What if he can't get to her in time if this happens again? If something goes wrong?
Darcy shakes herself out of whatever moment that was she was just having. Can she help it if her instinct after being scared out of her mind is to kiss someone senseless? She doesn't think so. But at least it hasn't come to that. Blinking several times, she has the courtesy to keep looking him in the eyes as she admits, "You're right. It was really fucking scary, and what I did was really stupid, and I'm just incredibly lucky you aren't screaming at me." Then she looks away, settling on a point somewhere at his shoulder or just past it. "Thanks for that, too."
(Professor Snape is a very observant man. But that went approximately ten billion space miles over his head, lightyears away from even registering. ...Sorry, Darcy?)
"Would screaming help?" in a tone that says he knows it won't. It's like a school nurse who doesn't interrogate children she thinks might be getting hit instead of walking into doors - sometimes you have to reel in your temper to get people to keep listening and keep coming back. Even though he's missed her action film third act moment, there, he's not completely oblivious.
"I'm sure it was tempting." Helpful or not. Just take the thanks where it's offered, Snape. Jeez.
Finally, Darcy begins to look around. Not just at him, or at the floor, but actually at the space. Turning in a slow circle, she doesn't hide her inspection (though it's without apparent judgement or any real scrutiny, just cursory), giving him her back. It serves as a chance for her to make a face at her behavior, and at her own expense, unobserved. "Would you mind if I-" The last portion of whatever she was about to say is bitten off. She's attempting a much more casual affect when she looks over her shoulder to Severus again. "Maybe I should go back to my room."
"Leaving you here and going to find your friend and put him in containment was tempting."
Not screaming.
And then - huh? Severus frowns a little when she cuts herself off. His room isn't that offensive, is it? It's more or less immaculate; the bunk he sleeps on is made with military precision, and the opposite one has been transfigured back into a desk. (It angered him last week and wasn't a desk for a while, but has since returned to his good graces.) There are a few books on that desk that he picked up on Arima, an unopened bottle of wine, and a tin of real tea. No dirty socks or cast-off shirts or pencil shavings.
Oh my gosh, Sev. Why do you give these openings? You know not what you do.
Urge to grab his shoulders and shake him aside, Darcy shrugs, turning bodily toward him again. "I'm not sure." She could lie, tell him yeah, she'll be fine, but she also expects he would see right through that. Honesty seems to be the smarter move in this case. "But I probably shouldn't keep imposing." Because that's clearly what this is. Right.
If he was only slightly more socially inept, Severus might offer to let her lay down here. .. While he goes through notes boringly, but honestly he thinks that would sound pretty fucking creepy. So instead:
Creepy, but she'd have totally gone for it, considering she nearly asked it herself.
It would be so easy to say no, and take the walk to clear her head. But the truth is that she doesn't want to walk alone. Not after that. "Yeah. That'd be great, actually. I mean, if you don't mind."
Severus just shakes his head slightly. Of course he doesn't mind, he offered. And he understands - viscerally. Though he'd been a child at the time and had not expected anything. Darcy at least ran. Severus had frozen in terror and stared, unable to function at all.
"You're just two up," he says, not really a question but more of a confirmation that's where she's headed; some people move. Severus hasn't bothered (even if he has taken over a few neighboring spaces as storage and workspace). He steps around her to palm the door open. Instinctively he walks a little ahead for a bit, because he thinks she might be jumpy still.
Walking together was a terrifically terrible idea, Darcy has decided after they make it about ten paces from his door. Her mind is racing, but she isn't dwelling on the thought of facing down a werewolf, so she has to suppose that's some sort of improvement. Even if her thoughts consist of how much she'd like him to push her up against the nearest wall, and how spectacularly unlikely that is to ever happen in her entire life. It will pass, she knows. She's pent up, full of nervous energy, and she just needs a way to blow off that steam. Sleep it off, Darc'.
Oh, is that the lift? Wonder what he thinks about her sudden silence. Maybe he's grateful for it, or maybe he thinks she's just that rattled still. And useless speculation isn't doing anything to pierce that silence. When the doors close, and they're on their way up, she purses her lips momentarily in determination. "Can you teach me how to deal with it? How to handle someone changing?"
Severus is utterly ignorant to Darcy's new-found conflict. The idea of it occurring to her wouldn't pop into his head in a thousand millennia; no matter that just last jump he was kissed for the first time in over three years, it was the first time in over three years. And it was brief, and slightly traumatic, and very much alarming. And culminated in Severus throwing his potentially deranged suitor out before anything else could take place.
(Because anybody who would kiss him has to be potentially deranged. In his opinion.
And in his experience.)
Silence isn't awkward for him. Severus is naturally quiet, and he seems fine. He's a steady presence next to her - watchful even in the empty hallway. They pass one of the laundry rooms before the lift, a few of its machines humming quietly in the neon light. It fades away once they're inside.
"The best way is to handle it from very far away," he tells her. "No matter how 'safe' a werewolf is after transformation, they are still what they are. 'Tame' isn't something that happens. Hunting instincts may still kick in - even for a moment. And that's all it'd take."
Not the most comforting answer, but it's an honest one. Even dogs do it: snap at someone once out of the blue, or play a little too rough. When it's your pet teacup poodle, whatever, but cursed wolves are a much, much different story.
"I can teach you how to protect yourself. But it should be a last resort."
This is all for the best. Him being ignorant, that is. If Darcy knew it had been three years since his last kiss, she'd definitely have to remedy that as her civic duty. Especially given that she counts herself safely amongst the not deranged population, thank you very much.
Not that this is the time. This really isn't the time, in fact. She curses herself for sticking to the gravely serious matter at hand, rather than continuing to deflect, but is able to remind that it's important.
"I'd like that." Her face scrunches up for a second. "I mean, I'd like knowing how to do that. I hope I'd never have to actually do it."
It's all pretty dramatic, but it's not all self-pity. Some of it's just that Severus is an overgrown shut-in nerd and Darcy's sexual Bluetooth device isn't registering on his wifi because he's a fucking moron and hasn't reset the damn thing in so long there's half an inch of dust on it.
"Such is the case with most things," he says, drawling voice listing dryer. "For a place so overwhelmingly skeptical of magic, there are far too many bloody werewolves and vampires about." They have cooties, Darcy, it's so gross. "I'd tried to generate some cohesion about it but..." he trails off. Incidentally, not planned; Severus makes a vague gesture.
Clearly she needs to look into boosting her signal. Stupid boy.
"It seems like the sort of thing people would rather sweep under the rug and pretend it's not a problem, I think." That's not terribly charitable, especially considering that she's new, but it's not like she doesn't understand human nature.
"There are many reasons, but I don't know that you need to focus on them right now. It'll just stress you more."
Severus sounds a tiny bit like he's forcing himself to say that, and he is - not because he doesn't believe it, but because he's just not used to being comforting. Small children are remarkably durable when it comes to emotions; asking them questions works better than anything else he's found. Darcy's not a child.
Darcy finds the concern and the comfort flattering, but is in possession of just enough sense not to admit as much. "Makes sense," is much easier to say. And about a thousand times less awkward for the both of them.
When they arrive outside her room finally, she fidgets at the door. "Well, this is me." It sounds lame coming out of her mouth, and she doesn't quite stop the wince that accompanies the desire to be able to go back in time just a few seconds so she can take it back. Say something way more smooth than that. "I, ah..." Well, don't start now or anything. "Thanks. Again. For probably the billionth time, and it's still not enough." Jesus, Darcy. She catches herself staring at his mouth and snaps her eyes back up just a little too quickly to shrug that off entirely. "If you wanted to check up on me later... That would be okay."
Any awkwardness doesn't register with Severus - at least, not for what it is. She was nearly attacked by a werewolf and was crying just a little while ago; he doesn't expect her to be perfectly composed. She's a muggle with no context for any of this. He's a little surprised she's not a blubbering mess beyond recovery, to be honest. Nerves are understandable.
"If you like." Which sounds neither disinterested nor interested. Sure, he'll check on her. Okay. "Try to get some rest. And let me know what happens with your friend, please."
Maybe it's not a strike. Maybe this is just ball one. Baseball analogies aside, Darcy refuses to be disheartened by this. Especially given that she's not, like, dead or cursed or something. "Sure, no problem." She opens the door and steps inside. "Later, Sev." Her tongue sticks out between her teeth, forming the beginnings of an aborted superfluous thank you. A small wave is all the attempt she makes at covering it, before shutting the door.
Sev? Sev. Huh. He remembers, then, her use of it in the message, though he'd been rather preoccupied with other content. But it's not such a big deal, he supposes.
With Dacy secure, Severus turns and heads back to the lift, before going to the science labs instead of his quarters. He should probably clean up that bloody mess before anyone sees it.
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"No more of this." Quietly, but firmly. Very seriously. "What you saw could be you. It is why I was so intent on keeping you from going at all. I know what werewolves are about."
He pins her with his gaze, and though it's clear he's still relieved, there's a tightness around his eyes that's almost a frown. "I'm not omnipresent."
What if he can't get to her in time if this happens again? If something goes wrong?
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"Would screaming help?" in a tone that says he knows it won't. It's like a school nurse who doesn't interrogate children she thinks might be getting hit instead of walking into doors - sometimes you have to reel in your temper to get people to keep listening and keep coming back. Even though he's missed her action film third act moment, there, he's not completely oblivious.
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Finally, Darcy begins to look around. Not just at him, or at the floor, but actually at the space. Turning in a slow circle, she doesn't hide her inspection (though it's without apparent judgement or any real scrutiny, just cursory), giving him her back. It serves as a chance for her to make a face at her behavior, and at her own expense, unobserved. "Would you mind if I-" The last portion of whatever she was about to say is bitten off. She's attempting a much more casual affect when she looks over her shoulder to Severus again. "Maybe I should go back to my room."
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Not screaming.
And then - huh? Severus frowns a little when she cuts herself off. His room isn't that offensive, is it? It's more or less immaculate; the bunk he sleeps on is made with military precision, and the opposite one has been transfigured back into a desk. (It angered him last week and wasn't a desk for a while, but has since returned to his good graces.) There are a few books on that desk that he picked up on Arima, an unopened bottle of wine, and a tin of real tea. No dirty socks or cast-off shirts or pencil shavings.
"Will you be all right?"
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Urge to grab his shoulders and shake him aside, Darcy shrugs, turning bodily toward him again. "I'm not sure." She could lie, tell him yeah, she'll be fine, but she also expects he would see right through that. Honesty seems to be the smarter move in this case. "But I probably shouldn't keep imposing." Because that's clearly what this is. Right.
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"Would you like me to walk back with you?"
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It would be so easy to say no, and take the walk to clear her head. But the truth is that she doesn't want to walk alone. Not after that. "Yeah. That'd be great, actually. I mean, if you don't mind."
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"You're just two up," he says, not really a question but more of a confirmation that's where she's headed; some people move. Severus hasn't bothered (even if he has taken over a few neighboring spaces as storage and workspace). He steps around her to palm the door open. Instinctively he walks a little ahead for a bit, because he thinks she might be jumpy still.
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Oh, is that the lift? Wonder what he thinks about her sudden silence. Maybe he's grateful for it, or maybe he thinks she's just that rattled still. And useless speculation isn't doing anything to pierce that silence. When the doors close, and they're on their way up, she purses her lips momentarily in determination. "Can you teach me how to deal with it? How to handle someone changing?"
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(Because anybody who would kiss him has to be potentially deranged. In his opinion.
And in his experience.)
Silence isn't awkward for him. Severus is naturally quiet, and he seems fine. He's a steady presence next to her - watchful even in the empty hallway. They pass one of the laundry rooms before the lift, a few of its machines humming quietly in the neon light. It fades away once they're inside.
"The best way is to handle it from very far away," he tells her. "No matter how 'safe' a werewolf is after transformation, they are still what they are. 'Tame' isn't something that happens. Hunting instincts may still kick in - even for a moment. And that's all it'd take."
Not the most comforting answer, but it's an honest one. Even dogs do it: snap at someone once out of the blue, or play a little too rough. When it's your pet teacup poodle, whatever, but cursed wolves are a much, much different story.
"I can teach you how to protect yourself. But it should be a last resort."
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Not that this is the time. This really isn't the time, in fact. She curses herself for sticking to the gravely serious matter at hand, rather than continuing to deflect, but is able to remind that it's important.
"I'd like that." Her face scrunches up for a second. "I mean, I'd like knowing how to do that. I hope I'd never have to actually do it."
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"Such is the case with most things," he says, drawling voice listing dryer. "For a place so overwhelmingly skeptical of magic, there are far too many bloody werewolves and vampires about." They have cooties, Darcy, it's so gross. "I'd tried to generate some cohesion about it but..." he trails off. Incidentally, not planned; Severus makes a vague gesture.
Apparently he's not a good PR person.
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"It seems like the sort of thing people would rather sweep under the rug and pretend it's not a problem, I think." That's not terribly charitable, especially considering that she's new, but it's not like she doesn't understand human nature.
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Severus sounds a tiny bit like he's forcing himself to say that, and he is - not because he doesn't believe it, but because he's just not used to being comforting. Small children are remarkably durable when it comes to emotions; asking them questions works better than anything else he's found. Darcy's not a child.
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When they arrive outside her room finally, she fidgets at the door. "Well, this is me." It sounds lame coming out of her mouth, and she doesn't quite stop the wince that accompanies the desire to be able to go back in time just a few seconds so she can take it back. Say something way more smooth than that. "I, ah..." Well, don't start now or anything. "Thanks. Again. For probably the billionth time, and it's still not enough." Jesus, Darcy. She catches herself staring at his mouth and snaps her eyes back up just a little too quickly to shrug that off entirely. "If you wanted to check up on me later... That would be okay."
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"If you like." Which sounds neither disinterested nor interested. Sure, he'll check on her. Okay. "Try to get some rest. And let me know what happens with your friend, please."
No one else needs to go through this.
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With Dacy secure, Severus turns and heads back to the lift, before going to the science labs instead of his quarters. He should probably clean up that bloody mess before anyone sees it.