bakerstreet | Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

SECRET relationship;

The fact that you're in a relationship with this person isn't public knowledge. Actually, no one knows about it except for the people involved. Maybe you guys are just private like that; on the other hand, it may be a necessity to keep things a secret from others. Maybe you're both team mates, and others on the team would give you grief, or you're not suppose to be dating, or you're not the type to usually date and you're only testing the waters. Perhaps it's the combination of you two, possibly an odd couple, that would bring some controversy or some teasing. Or, you know, you could not want to deal with friends and relatives being busybodies. Your reasons are your own.

Are you content with stealing moments to be together as a couple? Do you want to make your relationship known and the fact that you can't drives you batty? Remember, there are lots of benefits to dating in secret. You can be yourselves completely, away from prying eyes, and get to know each other better as potential longterm romantic partners. In a way, it's ideal.

...still, do you ever wish you could scream from the rooftops how much you care for your significant other?

how to play.

★ Comment with your character, preferences, and information.
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★ Play out stolen moments (◡‿◡✿), secret dates (◕‿◕✿), secret handholding (⊙‿⊙✿), and secret kissing ( /)w(\✿)!

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[ Heather pouts.

She knows that her disappearing for time on end is a sore spot between them, but if they are both honest, they'd get sick of each other pretty quickly. Besides, there's always that pull, that tug, that... something that is the Game that she must compete in. Unfortunately, that means leaving Severus and their little rendezvous at awkward times.

She does wonder, though, why he doesn't just toss her out. He certainly wouldn't be the first of her lovers to do so. She would mourn the loss of his intelligent conversation, and his stealing of her books, and the chance to see this other side of society that not even most Immortals knew about.

Flowing to her feet, she puts the book down and steps over to him. ]

Now, Severus, are you saying you haven't missed me? Even an inkling?

[ She doesn't toy with Severus the way she has other lovers in the past. Firstly, she doubts that he would take kindly to it. Secondly, and most importantly, she respects him too much to play with his emotions.

Heather puts her hand on his chest. ]

You know I hate leaving, but needs must.

[There is something else brewing behind the hurt feelings and barely-stifled rage, something he tries so hard to ignore even at the best of times, and certainly now when he wants to be angry. Still, it's there, reacting to the impossible blue of her eyes, and every step she takes towards him feeds it, makes it harder for him to breathe, until her hand makes contact and he simply doesn't breathe anymore. It's like being snared.

His eyes narrow. His lips curl just slightly in a snarl.

It's not that he hates her. It's that he doesn't hate her at all.

And yes: he missed her.

He looks away because it's the safe option, because continuing to meet her eyes breaks him down little by little. He brushes past her without reaction, without a touch in kind, because if he touches her, he knows he's already lost the argument he wants to have. He won't be able to resist the thing burning away beneath the self-righteous anger.

They've had this conversation enough times for him to know that he's going to lose. The question really isn't if, but when (and, to a lesser degree, how.]

I suspect if you truly hated leaving, you would actively avoid doing so.

[He knows better than that - but he's stubborn, and words are either a weapon or a balm. Right now, he needs weapons.]

If I say you were not missed in the slightest, would you go again? Perhaps for longer still than three months in hopes that my answer would change?

[Ah, yes: already losing. Already resorting to hypotheticals rather than statements of fact. He can't bring himself to say he didn't miss her. Lying comes naturally to him, but that one stretches credulity a little too much.]

[ The fight. One of the few they actually have. Most of their time is spent in speaking of books, in simply enjoying one another in a way that only those who know it won't last can.

Heather sighs, in that same way she always does, and takes her seat back in the chair. ]

Severus, you know my presence here would draw not only the attention of your co-workers -

[ As it does, anyway. ]

But the attention of those like me. Should we have our sword fights on the common? Or perhaps in Hogsmeade? Would that make it better?

[ Normally, she would pout more and argue with him, but this time... she's tired. She's tired of the game, again. Now, she could retreat to holy ground, and simply live there for a few years, but that means, of course, that Severus would have to come to her, and while that isn't a bad option, it would certainly curtail certain other activities.

she turns to look at him, her blue eyes old, and not a little sad, though her voice betrays none of that. ]

I would only leave if you were to ask, were it possible.

[That stops him in his tracks, leaving him feeling something he likes far less than the unnamable sensations that stir when she's too near: uncertainty. No, not about their relationship, but about her. He knows what she is, of course, but there are times when he pretends to forget. There are times when her eyes are those of a young woman and her smile is untroubled, and he can pretend that there's nothing remarkable about her at all.

And then there are times like now, when her age shows in her eyes, and the reality of what she is makes him feel as if he's missed a step in the dark. It stretches out before him, a mere number on paper, but the concept so enormous he can only barely process it. She is a road stretching into an incomprehensible distance in either direction, and Severus is the mark of just one more mile.

When he has grown old and died, she will still be exactly as she is now, exactly as she was hundreds of years ago. Thousands, perhaps. He has never screwed up the nerve to ask.

When she looks at him the way she does now, he can feel the weight of all those years, and he understands that there are things more important on that road than mile markers.

The fight goes out of him, leaving only the wound of her absence, and even that manages to fade with her words. There's the balm.

With a look that is somehow an intersection of capitulation, regret, and ever-present irritation, he closes the distance, though the chair's back remains between them just in case he needs a shield. The backs of his fingers brush her cheek as though he can coax to the surface the fiction of a young woman, unimportant, whose only real obligations to the world are small enough to include him.]

I doubt I would ask.

[It would have been a more romantic admission if he didn't sound so consternated, so tired, so self-deprecating. But the fondness is there, to be read between the lines.]

[ This past trio of months has been hard. An old friend has died, another one is hunted, and still another... disappeared. She knows he still lives, thanks to Methos and his contacts in the Watchers, but she doesn't know where, and that bothers her.

Add in that one who was barely a century old had challenged her - and lost - and she's here to soak up the presence of someone who won't judge, who won't hate her for what she needs to be.

Her eyes close and she leans into the fingers on her cheek. She reaches up and takes his hand and holds it in place. Turning her head, she brushes her lips against the back of his hand, wanting nothing more than to curl into his lap like a child and let him keep the nightmare at bay.

She looks up at him, her age receding out of her eyes some, knowing that he wouldn't ask her to leave. Heather gets up and walks around the chair, still holding his hand. ]

You'd grow tired of my demanding ways, Severus. Or of my interference in your work.

[His response is a slow nod, his own eyes reflecting a distance telling of where his own mind has gone: yes, her presence here would be an interference indeed. Outside the door, there is an entirely different situation which can't be held at bay for too long.

Maybe he's more of a road, himself, intersecting hers however briefly. He has obligations of his own, fights that can't be ended with the mere swing of a sword. Promises to keep. Miles to go before I sleep - isn't that how the poem goes? Something like that. Oh, but enough with the analogies and wool-gathering, because this moment is real enough, and the brush of her lips has left a mark on his skin that doesn't seem to fade.

When the fight ends, it's only then that he remembers how warm she is when she's close enough for him to notice, and what began as a curl of desire turns into a craving. A frown becomes a faint smirk - the sort no one outside gets to see, because no one outside has earned this particular look from him the way she has. It hints at mischief, making him seem a little younger for the briefest of moments.]

I'd tire of you rifling through my books long before I tired of your particular breed of 'interference'.

[No more malice. The fight's almost forgotten. She's close enough to invade his personal space, and his free hand has found its way to her waist without his notice.]

[ Her smile is far fuller than his. It makes her face glow, and the age fully recede from her eyes. No longer is the weight on her shoulders. He's forgiven her for the moment.

And there's that smirk. That smirk always strikes her deep in belly and makes her want to drag him off to bed immediately, where she will slowly strip him and reveal what is only hers to see.

She chuckles, deep and huskily. ]

You don't mind me rifling through your books, at all, Severus. You'd tire of my clothes all over the floor first.

[ She likes teasing Severus. She doubts that anyone can get away with it, beyond her. She leans her head against his chest, comfortable in the gentle touches, so unlike things that have happened to her before.

Closing her eyes, Heather listens to Severus's heartbeat. It's nice to hear him against her ear, and know that she can quicken that beat with a simple touch. ]

Do you have somewhere to be tonight?

[ She tries to never interfere with his work here. It's her place to relax and enjoy a time away from the Game. But she does understand that Severus has responsibilities. And not just as a teacher. ]

[Getting away with teasing him is far easier than getting a response in kind, and he suspect that might be what caused the more observant teachers on staff to take notice of their interactions. Teasing when returned often could be (not incorrectly) construed as flirting, and eventually, someone was going to get curious enough to ask him.

Probably Hagrid, and wouldn't that be a problem? (Hagrid was Severus' barometer, as far as gossip was concerned. He was not as observant as some, but more than most, with a deplorable inability to keep secrets - which inevitably meant that if Hagrid knew something, then the students probably knew, as well.)

His thoughts are curbed by the gentle weight of her head against his chest. Her scent, her nearness, the almost casual claim she lays on him floods his senses.

Does he have somewhere to be tonight? Nothing from the perpetual Real Work, the fight against problems he helped cause lifetimes ago, but what about this sham of employment? It's Wednesday; no office hours, but there's a staff meeting later. If they already suspect, then they'll understand if he simply doesn't show. He's been responsible for years. He can afford tonight.]

I won't be missed.

[Not like she was, at any rate. It's all about priorities: he missed Heather far more than Minerva will miss him while discussing Hogsmeade chaperones and whatever new demands have been sent down by the school governors.

Something piques his memory, a conversation they'd enjoyed last time he'd seen her.]

And it occurs to me that we left off a very serious discussion about the merits of four-post beds. I'm almost convinced that's the real reason you were gone as long as you were: you needed three months to come up with a convincing argument.

[ She loves the sound of his heartbeat. It's comforting and alive and so mortal that she craves the sound of it beyond anything else - and she's actually starved to death once.

Ah, good. No one will miss him. No doubt the ghosts will know - damned Bloody Baron - that she's here soon enough and will pass the information on to the other teachers. She's amazed that the children don't know the nature of their relationship. Surely they have not been that subtle about it. And if the children are that thick... well, no wonder Severus despairs for them.

She laughs against his chest, wrapping her arms around him. ]

Do you honestly believe so? As I remember it, I pointed out that there were things that I needed to show -

[ She's very rudely cut off. ]

Professor Snape!

[ the door bursts open and a ferrety blond boy stares at the pair of them. Heather drops her arms and turns to look at the boy, her eyebrow arching. Obviously, he's of Severus's house, but just as obviously shouldn't be in here.

She sighs. Now Severus will be cranky. So much for her goodnatured argument about the advantages of being tied hand and foot to a four poster. She's been looking forward to Severus tying her up and tormenting her.

Torture of the most delicious sort. ]

[Whether it's her response or her arms around him, his smirk becomes something near enough to a smile to qualify; they seem to have fallen back into step in spite of her three-month disappearance - as though she never left. This is always the best part of things, in his mind. It doesn't leave him wondering or questioning or even worrying about their situation. It's not something that requires wondering, questioning, or worrying; just that smile of his in response to the sound of her laughter.

And just like that, the moment of peace is shattered, Severus pulling away from her far more sharply than she does from him, all traces of good humour vanishing in favour of a scowl. He feels defensive, and that sends his hackles back up. Defensive in his own rooms! A place where he ought to have privacy!

The boy is putting two and two together far faster than Severus can come up with a lie to explain this; he can see Draco's eyes darting between the two of them, can see the understanding, yes, but also the ways this knowledge will Be Of Benefit. Unfortunately, Severus has never been caught this close to in flagrante delecto in his life, and thus has no experience to drawn from. He opts for steering the conversation back to the intrusion and not the discovery.

And meanwhile, he places himself between Draco and Heather. Maybe a lack of line-of-sight will make her presence a little less important to the boy.]

Is there some reason you thought it appropriate to barge into my personal quarters? I was unaware the school had fallen completely into your father's pocket.

[This should be good.]

[ Heather dislikes the boy. Though, she can put a name to him, the moment Severus makes the comment about his father. Malfoy. The well-to-do family is unknown to her, except what Severus has told her.

She sighs and stays behind Severus, waiting for the boy's explanation.

Draco is, indeed, putting things together. He caught Professor Snape with his arms around a woman. His father will enjoy having that information.

His thin shoulders straighten as he tries to remember why he is in here. Oh. Right. Potter and that mudblood friend of his. ]

Professor Snape, I've reason to believe that Harry Potter and Granger are planning to cheat the next time we're given an exam.

[ At least that what it sounded like to him.

Heather rolls her eyes. Petty teenage bullshit, it seems. She could be naked right now. ]

[Something twitched. Severus suspected it was a muscle in his cheek, or his eyelid, but there it was, a small tic betraying his irritation. As much as he disliked Potter and Granger, he also really rather disliked having his personal time disrupted for petty complaints such as this.

Nevermind that he sincerely, wholeheartedly believed Granger was too much of a damned apple-polishing know-it-all to do something quite so tawdry as cheating.]

As the next exam will not be until Friday, I will deal with this in the morning.

[And just in case the hint wasn't taken, he clarified coolly:]

Get out.

[ Draco's eyes find Heather again and he turns to leave them alone and no doubt send an owl to his father. ]

Yes, Professor.

[ He quietly closes the door behind him.

Heather lets out her breath and moves back in front of Severus and wraps her arms around him again, putting her ear over his heart. He may not reciprocate - she's used to his coolness, it's something that draws her to him because she knows of the fire beneath - but she'll hug him enough for both of them right now. ]

What an obsequious little ferret.

[ She mutters the words against Severus's chest. ]

Is his father as irritating?

[ She knows that there are things about the Wizarding world that she's not privy to. She knows that Severus is up to something sometimes, and it's something that she Cannot Know About. But she also knows that sometimes it makes Severus worry for her. She's not trying to be flippant asking about Malfoy, Sr. She's judging just how much trouble this might cause for Severus. ]

[It's a loaded question that greets him when he turns his attention to her again. His hand has come to rest not on any part of her, but on the back of the chair she so recently occupied; the mood has been spoiled for the moment, and his mind is on whether this will come back to haunt him.

Possibly, but not in the manner she might suspect.]

His father is a friend.

[He might as well say Lucius is an enemy, however; Slytherins of his generation make friends amongst one another not for companionship, but because of the height of the ladder of ambition. Every action is remembered and stored away for some later date when it might prove useful. Lucius will approach him, he's sure, in the next two weeks just to let Severus know that he knows.

A friendly display of his ammunition.

There will be no surprises, at least.

The interesting aspect, however, is that Draco knew how to get past the wards to his room. It isn't widely-disseminated information amongst staff and students, but there are people who know.

Like Lucius, for example.

Blast.]

And I have no doubt Lucius knew long before tonight that something was suspect about my meetings with you. For all her faults, Granger is no cheat. This was not obsequiousness; it was confirmation.

[ Heather lets him go. She knows that he's worried. He doesn't have to say it, and his voice hasn't betrayed him at all. But there's something about the way he says 'friend' that makes her sit up and take notice.

She reaches out and takes his hand. ]

Do you need me to go?

[ Not want. She knows that he wants her to stay. It had been in the softening of his smirk earlier. But he might need her to leave. And if he does, she will. Without question, without complaint, she'll gather up her things, retreat to holy ground, and wait - at least for a while - to hear from him.

Heather would not call what they have love. Mutual admiration, mutual respect, but not love. She's not sure that she is capable of it. Severus surely is, but maybe not her.

Part of that respect is respecting the silence about certain subjects. She doesn't tell him about the heads she's taken; he doesn't tell her what it is that sometimes draws him away from Hogwarts when he should be here teaching.

But now she wants to help, because part of this is her fault. If she hadn't been so open about coming here today, if she hadn't walked through the halls like she owned the place, if she hadn't... well, been herself, perhaps the little albino ferret would not have been so ready to brave Severus's ire. ]

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Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

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