With Stitches.

I stay deathly still, watching as the shadow moves forward. It seems to glide across the earth as it retreats from something bright, yet lifeless on the ground behind. I do not breathe, bracing my throbbing hands against the wet dirt; my heart is pounding in my ears. Though I try to keep my eyes focused on the jet black shadow, I blink and suddenly the shadow is gone. Mouth hanging slightly open, a shallow breath escapes from my lungs.

Had I imagined it? Was it just a creature innocently prancing through the trees?

Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't prancing.

I glance back to the place where I had first seen the lurking being, and I see the small reflection of light on something shiny and pointed. I spot a large, white mass laying still on a bed of moss, but cannot make it out from this far away. I slowly climb to my feet, brushing the dirt from my robes as I reluctantly step toward the white mound laying in the mud and moss. I cover my mouth as I discover the scene in front of me. Though, not how I would like to see one, a unicorn is sprawled across the ground just in front of me now, thick, silvery liquid dripping from two circular holes just below it's mane.

"Don't get too close," A small shriek escapes from my lips as the voice penetrates the peace and silence of the forest. I stumble to the ground, looking into the amused face of a boy with raven black, greasy hair, covering only one foggy blue eye; a mischievous smirk hangs on his lips. "Someone might think you did it yourself."

He isn't wearing a black cloak, only school robes that hang untucked and dirty, but my fearful eyes could have deceived me earlier.

"Did you...?" I didn't finish, but simply pointed over my shoulder quickly. The boy grins sinisterly, kneeling down in front of me.

"Does it look like I have unicorn blood on me, sweetheart?" he replies, looking curiously at me; not a spot of silver specks his untidy robes.

"You could have cleaned yourself up," I suggest bitterly, climbing to my feet once again, avoiding the scene behind me.

"In a blink of an eye?" He follows suit, towering over me with a smile. I narrow my eyes, questioning his dependability. "You can trust me," he says as if reading my mind. I notice his voice isn't the same British drawl that surrounds me inside Hogwarts, but is the same as my own, only much deeper.

"I'm not so sure," I mumble, sneering up at him.

"I'm completely trustworthy. I'll swear to it on my arm," Before I can ask what he means, his sleeve is pulled up to his shoulder to reveal the tattoo of a snake twisting from a skull pulsating on his left forearm.

"Oh..." I breathe, staring at the Dark Mark incredulously. I've only seen Voldemort's mark twice; once on Severus, and once in my nightmare.

"Wanna take a picture?" the boy suddenly snaps, pulling his sleeve back down forcefully. "You act like you haven't got one of your own,"

"I don't," I say loudly. The boy laughs, unconvinced.

"Bullshit, you're practically Voldemort's bitch. You have to have one, probably two!" My temper rises to a constant boil as I roughly pull both sleeves from my arms; the sight stops his laughter abruptly.

"Holy fuck," he stands, shell-shocked, blinking at my blank skin. "But... He hasn't branded you a Death Eater?"

"He said he wouldn't until I was ready," I explain coldly, crossing my arms tightly across my chest. The boy says nothing, only stares at me unbelievably, mouth hanging open far enough for any number of creatures to make their homes in. I huff, marching to my bag.

"Hold it!" the boy exclaims, grabbing my arm firmly.

"Don't touch me!" I yell, hands sternly on my hips, glaring up to him; I remind myself of my mother. A smile lays mockingly on his lips.

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" I snarl, trying to look taller by broadening my shoulders.

"John Vladamir Hemlock, 5th year. Everyone calls me Johnny," his smile is now pompous as he winks once.

"Well, Hamhock," I say bitterly, snatching my backpack from the ground and swinging it over my shoulder as his face falls. "Although it was absolutely wonderful talking to you, I have to get to Transfiguration's class," I give him a half-hearted salute before I stomp off into a random direction. Why I was letting such a jerk make me so angry was beyond me, but I was determined to get out of this forest and away from him.

"Hey, wait up, Parker!" John calls, catching up to me easily with his long legs.

"What now?" I groan. My shoulders slump over me.

"Do you even know how to get outta here?" I say nothing, ignoring his presence as I glance around the forest, searching for a gleam of sunlight or an opening leading back to the grounds of Hogwarts. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"Didn't think so," he exclaims with a smart laugh, taking me by the shoulders and turning me around roughly.

"I thought I told you not to touch me," I growl, slamming his hands from me.

"I'm trying to help you, so shut up and take my arm," Though I furrow my eyebrows into an angry line, I reluctantly grab his wrist. Suddenly, we're being pulled in a whirl of colorful blurs; my insides are being torn apart in every direction. In less than a minute, I fall onto my hands and knees in the well-kept green grass of the Hogwarts grounds, coughing and breathing heavily.

"What the fuck was that?!" I shout, squinting up furiously to John through the sunlight.

"It's called 'apparating', sweetheart,"

"Stop. Calling me. Sweetheart," I snarl through clenched teeth, standing unevenly to my feet and moving to John, ready to strangle him.

"Ms. Parker," I snap my head around, watching as Severus strides toward us, black robes fluttering out behind his beautiful form.

"Y-yes, Professor?" I stutter, perplexed by his anxious expression.

"I've been looking for you, where have you been?" I find myself speechless as I stare up into his concerned eyes.

"She was in the Forbidden Forest," John explains, sniggering behind me. I turn and glare at him once again, remembering what had just happened.

"And what are you doing out of class, Mr. Hemlock?"

"Saving her ass, of course," he jeers. "You're welcome," he adds down to me. I start to lunge at him, but Severus' hands lock onto my arms instantly, and I'm pulled backward into him. I shiver slightly at his touch, going limp for a moment before softly removing myself from his grasp.

"Go to class, Hemlock. 5 points from Gryffindor,"

"Because I care so much about those bunch of pussies-"

"5 more for language, and if you aren't careful, I'll give you detention for the rest of the week. Understood?" John scoffs loudly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and mumbling, "If I was in Slytherin..." before storming off toward the castle.

I look up to Severus expectantly, waiting for the deduction of points for making a mess of his classroom and skipping the rest of Potions class.

"Come down to my office, Dawson," he says, turning to walk away. "You still smell dreadful," I feel my cheeks heat up as I follow him across the grass and into the castle.

***

"Why do you think it wore off so fast, Severus?" I chanced his name as I ask, watching him sift through his potions. Pulling out a tall bottle of something blue, he uncorks the cap, purple smoke rising from the top, refreshing the dungeon air with the smell of washed laundry and flowers.

"I can't explain," he replies, pouring the blue liquid quickly onto my head. Instinctively, my shoulders rise, waiting for the potion to slide down my neck. Instead, the colorful drops disappear almost instantly, leaving me with the girliest smell I've ever had the displeasure of inhaling.

"Little strong, isn't it?" I cough, trying to breathe evenly.

"Much better than the foul odor from the Girding Potion, I would say," Severus says, placing the freshener back into his potions cabinet and locking it, placing the key in his pocket.

"Severus... Why didn't you help me in the classroom?" I question, chipping the polish from my nails.

"What do you mean?" he inquires, sitting in the chair behind his desk. I turn to him, looking down onto him grading more essays as I cross my legs, resting my chin on the heel of my palm.

"Why didn't you help me up, or help me clean, or... Tell the others to stop laughing?" I sigh, feeling more hurt than angry at the man sitting in front of me. He looks up immediately, sensing my sadness. "I felt like you were mocking me along with the rest of them,"

"That's not what I intended," he speaks softly, with some sternness left in his usually cold voice. "You, for one, should know that I would do anything to protect you,"

"So, why just stand there?" I ask, feeling a dumb tear slide down my nose and drip onto one of the many red-drenched essays on the uses of Girding Potion. Severus looks at me curiously.

"I mustn't be too nice to you, Dawson. Someone could get suspicious. Not to mention the Dark Lord's constant eye on you,"

"What would anyone have to be suspicious about, Severus?" I question sheepishly, looking up at him through my curls, biting my lip. He stares at me for a moment, then clears his throat, standing and walking around the desk; he takes my hand, and my heart flutters, but he lets it go after he helps me down from the desk.

"He could be watching you this very moment," says Severus, ignoring my inquiry all together. I step a bit closer to the man, staring up at him with gleaming eyes.

"Do you care about me, Severus?" I ask, moving even closer as he blinks once.

"You know I do," he answers quietly, expression unreadable. Standing so tall and so proud, I can't help but stare endlessly at the man I've come to know as my savior over the past summer. Starting with the first encounter between Voldemort and I, he has kept me from the Dark Lord's vicious touch and anyone else who wanted to get at me. His eyes are darker than ever as he gazes back at me, look of wonder hidden behind a bit of confusion. Without thinking, I slam my lips against his, standing on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. His body is tense, at first, but, slowly, his hands find there way to my waist, slowly leading me back to his desk as our lips move intensely, but rhythmically, together. He raises me off the ground steadily, placing me softly on the sprawled out papers as I twist my fingers into his greasy hair. A moan slips through my lips as his hands trace the outline of my sides and he brings me closer, kiss getting even more passionate as I wrap my legs around his waist.

"Severus," I whisper, sending a shiver down his back. He moves the hair from my shoulders, kissing down to my neck, and I moan softly again, pulling tightly on his robes. Suddenly, he pulls away, holding his left arm firmly with his other hand.

"Severus?" I question, disappointment and concern mixed into my tone. "Severus, what's wrong?"

"He's summoning me," he says simply, looking at me then away, expression cold again. "Go to class, Ms. Parker," All too soon, he vanishes in a trace of black smoke, and I'm left alone in his office, sitting flustered on his desk. I pull the shoulder of my robes back to their place before hopping down, fixing my hair and grabbing my bag before rushing from the dungeon and up the enchanted stairs, walking normally as the usual rush of students run for the Great Hall, ready for their lunch. I try to hide my mix of content, disappointment, and fear as I take a seat next to Harry, across from Ron and Hermione who were bickering over something about house elves being freed.

"I thought we had Transfiguration together?" Harry questions, taking a healthy bite of a pie filled with some kind of meat. I feel myself blush to my scalp, helping myself to some seasoned potatoes and a piece of roast.

"Oh yeah, umm... Well, I got caught up doing something for a Professor, so I was excused from that class,"

"Really? McGonagall was surprised not to see you on your first day. They must not have notified her," Harry shrugs, either not noticing or just dismissing how red my face was as he continued to eat his meat pie.

"-and of course all elves want to be free, Ronald!" Hermione said with finality, ignoring Ron's attempt to continue the argument. "Hello, Dawson. Harry's told us that he is to take you on a date!" I redden again, remembering this little detail from last night.

"He has, has he?" I laugh once, glancing at Harry with a grin. His face becomes a dark pink, sinking lower onto the bench.

"Yeah, really fancies you, this one!" Ron chimes in, apparently forgetting what he had just been discussing with Hermione. I giggle pleasantly, turning to Harry.

"So, where might we be going?" I ask, smile gleaming brilliantly.

"It's a surprise," he says, grinning through his embarrassment.

"Oh-ho-ho! What a romancer, alright! So, this Saturday, then. Pick me up at 8 at... Y'know... the Gryffindor Common room," They all laugh as I dig into my food, once again hiding the concern I have for Severus.

Voldemort must have seen us.

I've put Severus in the sights of death.

And there's nothing I can do to help him but wait.