This was written just after a skit at the 2006 Comic Con Masquerade resparked my interest in Harry Potter. I misplaced the notebook, so I couldn't post it for Halloween as I had originally intended. I'm worried that Severus may have come off as too mild, but... ah well. Read and Review, please!
As he opened his eyes, without looking, he knew the Dark Mark was gone.
The Mark was no simple stain of the skin, a child's disappearing ink. It stung in the first rays of summer, prickled at the first winter breeze, made the bones in his arm creek on rare, quiet days… and when he was being summoned…
But suddenly all of that was gone.
He turned his head.
The bare, blank arm lay passively on a duvet cover done up in shades of pale green and gold. The sun shone against his skin like an old friend. His skin was far from tropically tan, but it certainly did not look like he spent every waking moment in the dungeons. His fingers were not as quite as stained as they had been hours before.
He sat up.
The room had been papered in the same green and gold tones as the duvet. It was somehow cheerful without being unpleasantly so. A wall of large windows was at his right, the sunlight tempered by sheer white curtains. The room itself was pleasantly small. Large rooms, for all his years at Hogwarts, made him feel uneasy. It was not cramped here, yet he felt comfortable.
He felt he could call this place home.
The bed was built for two people. The bed curtains had two handles on either side. There were two different sets of colored pillows lying haphazardly on the bed. There were two small lamps mounted to the wood above him on the headboard. The small bookshelf above the lamps had two sets of books. One set was his. One was not.
A small, grey robe lay where it had been tossed, over the messy sheets on the other side of the bed.
He picked it up and held it to his face. Inhaled.
The smell was the smell of a half-dozen sweaters left behind on classroom chairs.
It was happening again.
He looked around that strange, perfect little room, suddenly miserable.
He realized the shower was running.
He slipped out of bed and padded over to the door on the left in nothing but silk pajama bottoms.
He could see her red hair burning from the other side of the fogged up shower door. It was still the same shade that had taunted him in Potions class and whistled at him from across the Quiddich pitch.
He slid open the shower door.
Lily was rinsing herself down, humming a strange little tune. She was no longer a girl, a bit softer here, a bit lower there, a wrinkle too noticeable there. But she was still beautiful. She still made the breath catch in his throat. He would have still sold his soul to make her happy.
She realized she had an audience, and blinked away the water as she turned around.
"Severus…" It was a sly, wicked little hiss that made his heart twist delightfully in his chest. She had said his name exactly like that in their fifth year, saucy yet hopeful. He had been a fool not to act.
"Love." He was whispering. Reverent. A pilgrim.
She always looked at him like that when he told her something sweet; that understanding crinkle of her eye. "Join me?"
He couldn't. Not this time. Not when he knew the clock was running out.
"You're almost done, anyway." he pointed out.
"Killjoy."
"Don't pout. Not when I have another game we can play."
"Oh?" She reached out her right hand and ran it over his bare chest. The cooling water raised gooseflesh wherever she touched.
"Finish up." He said, "Get dressed. Then come find me."
"That is tempting." She agreed, "You won't be late for work?"
"I think we've earned a day off, don't you?"
She had been waiting for him to say that. Eyes like that didn't lie.
He brought her roaming hand up to his lips. He pressed it against his cheek and forehead before he released it and backed away. "Find me."
It wasn't until he was on the stairs that he realized he'd left his wand on the end table. No matter. He wasn't going to be attacked in his own home.
The rest of the house hadn't changed since the last time. The large first floor library was still off of the cramped foyer which opened into their living room. There was evidence everywhere of a recent event. The wine glasses and plates had not yet been cleared away. He may have relished solitude, but Lily had needed her friends, so they entertained often.
He still felt an old wariness prickling the back of his neck, but there was no real reason for paranoia here. No Dark Lord or slithering followers to protect against. The occasional visit from James Potter was the worst thing they could expect. And even that he could not deny Lily. So long as they were together, he could not deny her anyone's company.
He moved quickly, through their kitchen and out the backdoor into the greenhouse.
Neither of them had much knack for growing green things, but they still tried each spring. Empty clay pots and half-empty bags of peat and potting soil lay around as evidence of increasing failure. He had made mention of simply tearing the blasted structure down, but the look in Lily's eyes had stopped him. They'd find a good use for it in the end.
Beyond the dirty glass of the greenhouse he could see the fields that surrounded their home. Fog hovered close to the ground, and he knew the air would be cold and clean if he stepped outside. There was nothing like the mills here. He could see the small stone building a few feet away that served as their labs.
He hoped she would find him soon.
Really, he had spent years waiting for her to find him. Years of laying trails of rare, kind acts, dry as breadcrumbs. Years of performing everyday acts that he did for no one but her. It had been difficult. He had no sweet words like… some of her suitors had. He didn't have the stomach for it. Not after hearing his father say the same things to his mother moments after he had hit her so hard that she… no. Words were fickle. He had chosen to show his interest through subtle action. And it had worked. Somewhat. Slowly.
But it could have all been lost.
He had been so angry at the attack after the OWLs that he had almost taken it out on her. If he hadn't held his tongue she would have never felt the need to make it up to him. Would have never spoken to him again. Would have never stayed.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the fresh scent of her clean skin in the sunlight drove him mad. It was the smell that had woke him nightly in his 4th year, making him cry out in the unfairness of it all.
"I thought I would have to look all day." She murmured.
"Perhaps I wanted to be found."
"Must be. And now that you are?"
He twisted around and kissed her, drinking her in like she was his last skin of water in the desert. When she finally managed to pull away with a giggle he dusted light kisses against her face. Forehead, cheek, nose, chin, driving down to the curve of her neck.
His hands were trying to hold her, but she knew where he was ticklish. He jumped as her fingers found him, and she took the chance to make her escape. He quickly reclaimed his hold on her, leaping out and pulling her up in his arms. He was astonished he had the leverage to do so.
Lily was laughing and gasping as he kissed every inch of her that he could plant his lips on. They were certain to be on the floor shortly, and he was already planning where would be the softest place to land.
It felt like it had been years since he had been this happy. But there was suddenly no doubt, no fear and nothing like death. Not in this place. Here he felt safe.
The anguished scream shook the Slytherin common room at midnight with such force that ripples appeared on the lake. A few sixth years and an ambitious first year were the only ones to hear it.
The first year may have been wet behind the ears, but he could still recognize the voice of his head of house. "Professor Snape?"
"Best leave it be," a tall, black-haired seventh year said sagely. "The nightmares come every Halloween. When he finishes waking up he'll calm down and take a potion."
The first year shivered as the sounds of broken shrieking echoed around him. He didn't even want to think what horrible thing could give Snape a nightmare like that.
END.
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