Dry Land
In all the time that I've
known you
You've been so edgy and nervous
I never wanted to own you
I was aware of the
danger of making a bid for your favours
You're such a natural stranger, I made excuses and ran
You're an island but I
can't leave you all out at sea
You're so violent with your silence
You're an island, I can't sleep, won't you speak to me
I'm on dry land, won't you help me please
In all the time that
I've known you
There has been something between us
I don't think it's my imagination
I felt like I couldn't
touch you, but I had the feeling you'd love to
Tell me the truth if you could do, I made excuses and ran
You're an island but I can't
leave you all out at sea
You're so violent with your silence
You're an island, I can't sleep, won't you speak to me
I'm on dry land, won't you help me please
( Steve Hogarth- Marillion)
He was standing, still, darkened by a shaft of sunlight, when I saw him again. Frowning into the middle distance, he resembled some strange black prism, which diffracted that beam of late summer sun into a myriad of colourful motes that danced and bobbed around it unheeded. Those brightly hued witches and wizards who bustled up and down Diagon Alley skirted an invisible perimeter around him, seemingly unconscious of his presence. How I wished that I could share their blindness, but even after all this time, his presence still sent shivers down my spine.
Shielding my eyes against the glare of the day, I noticed him only when halfway down the steps of Gringott's bank, and I stopped, suddenly unable to move, my breath catching in my throat. I watched him for a few seconds that seemed to stretch to an eternity, until suddenly, his robes billowing black behind him, he strode purposefully in the direction of his gaze, down into Knockturn Alley and out of sight.
I sank on to the steps, and buried my face in my hands. I was dizzy and suddenly short of breath, and knew it was not just because of the bumpy rollercoaster ride to my family's vault. I sat there cursing myself for my weakness. How could I let him affect me like this, after so many months of trying to persuade myself that I didn't care?
My lack of composure did not go unnoticed. A large pair of hobnail boots came to a halt in front of me, and a concerned, rather gravelly voice said,
"'Ave you 'ad a nasty turn, dearie?" The boots and the voice belonged to a small, round magenta-clad witch and she continued, "Ere, Esme, them goblins in there 'ave been upsettin' this poor lass!" calling over her shoulder to a tall, stern looking witch in staid grey robes.
"Oh, no, really, it wasn't the goblins, I'm fine!" I protested feebly as I stood up. " I think I just need to sit down for a while."
"Hmph!" snorted the tall witch unsympathetically, obviously seeing in me a shoddy example of modern witch-hood. The small one rolled her eyes, and linked my arm in hers.
"Come on, I'll get yer settled at a nice table outside Florian Fortescue's, you can 'ave an ice cream and watch the world go by!"
I followed compliantly, my stomach churning and my head swimming with unanswerable questions. Why here? Why now? Where had he been? Why wasn't I over him?
The small witch was all for joining me and ordering the biggest Knickerbocker Glory on the menu (guffawing inexplicably at its name) but her friend's disapproving "Nanny, we must make haste, we will be late to the theatre!" was commanding enough to ensure that "Nanny" hobbled off down the Alley after her friend, after giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder.
I sighed and leant back in my seat. The shop shaded it, and the cool breeze too was a welcome relief. I still felt too nauseous for the ice cream, and I toyed with it idly before pushing it away with a sigh. From my vantage point I could see the entrance to Knockturn Alley. If he emerged, I would surely see him. I was filled with longing and dread in equal measure and I despised myself for both these emotions. He had no right to make me feel this way, and I had no right even to harbour such feelings, since I was sure that he had never truly felt for me anything but contempt. I remembered all our previous encounters and felt myself flush. The last time I had seen him, he had been so unbearably cold!
********************************************
After losing my parents and sister at Voldemort's hands, when I was twenty, I had drifted for years. The increased freedom that was a direct result of Voldemort's downfall only a few weeks after their deaths had meant that I could assuage my otherwise unbearable grief by travelling, and thus I had spent a decade and a half crossing continents over and over, settling in one place only to move on again when life became too comfortable. I had spent most of my time with Muggles, since their world was somewhere I could feel closer to my mother, and where my talents for languages and history enabled me to find short-term employment as an archivist in libraries, museums and galleries across the world. However, I had never once gone back to my family home, nor had I ever felt the need to retrieve my possessions from storage, where everything had been hidden away after the house had been sold for me.
Consequently, I had been approached to go to work in the Hogwarts library the previous year, under the watchful eye of Madam Pince, to catalogue and cross-reference some Muggle books and documents relating to their version of potion making. I was in fact to spend a term each at Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Professor Severus Snape had not approved, evidently, since he saw little value in Muggle scientific endeavours, and so I admit that we had been bound to get off on the wrong foot.
I had settled in well, after only two weeks at Hogwarts. It was my old school, and since my family had been poisoned I supposed it was now the closest thing I had to a home. I was made welcome by the staff and my rooms in the basement of the hospital wing were spacious and comfortable, comprising a large bedroom with windows overlooking the grounds, and a well-appointed bathroom.
Each morning I would take a short cut across the lawn to the main school, where I would breakfast in the Great Hall at the staff table before heading off to the library. Each morning, I would look across the Hall to the empty seat reserved for the potions master who, Madam Pince had informed me, was on "an errand of great importance" for the Headmaster, and who had been gone since July. I was looking forward to a possible collaboration with him during my tenure there, I had told her, and had been mildly surprised at her amused reaction.
However, having gone on to hear much about his demeanour and the fear he instilled in his students from other members of the faculty, and since my own area of interest as far as the wizarding world was concerned was potions, his reputation intrigued me greatly, and so for many reasons the empty chair held no small fascination for me as I speculated on the whereabouts of its erstwhile occupant.
I did not need to speculate long. One morning I breezed in to the Great Hall as usual and, taking my place next to Madam Pince, looked over and saw that he had returned. I had never even seen so much as a picture of him before in my life, but there was an indefinable familiarity about him and I found myself stunned into an uncharacteristic silence as I gazed at him.
There was a quality of darkness about him, an absence of warmth, as if the light in the room illuminated him superficially but shrank from intimacy. His appearance fascinated me. He was clad all in black, and the contrast between his clothes, hair and eyes and the paleness of his skin served to echo what evidence I had gleaned from others about the co-existent intensity and aloofness of the inner man. I had never seen someone so ill at ease with his colleagues, someone so alone. Flanked by Professors Black and Lupin, and studiously ignoring both, he ate ravenously and I wondered again what had been his mission, and its dangers. I knew that he had been one of Voldemort's Death Eaters about 16 years before, at around the same time as my parents and baby sister had been killed, and since my arrival at Hogwarts I had heard staff room gossip that he had been in touch with Voldemort for many years, while remaining loyal to Dumbledore, and working as a covert agent for the Ministry against the Dark Lord.
He caught me staring at him, and I flushed, yet could not look away. His eyes were shards of black ice and they held mine in thrall for immeasurable moments, until he scowled unpleasantly, pushed back his chair abruptly, rose, and swept from the Hall without a word to anyone. After he had gone I realised that I had been holding my breath for some time, and I gasped as I tried to collect myself. His presence remained in the room long after he had gone, however, and I wondered what my reaction would be were I to encounter him face to face, as I knew I must.
Later that morning, he swept into the library and strode past me into the Restricted section without a glance. Some time later, he called out impatiently,
"Madam Pince! Where is the encyclopaedia of Muggle Potente Potions? It is not in its usual place, I need it now! If not sooner!"
I had never heard a voice so mesmerising, so commanding. Once more my breath caught in my throat and I could not move as his mellifluous baritone washed over me. I took a deep breath at last and replied to his request in a poor approximation of my usual confident tone.
"Er... Professor Snape, it's here, I was using it," I ventured meekly. Slow footsteps advanced along the aisle and the skin at the back of my neck began to tingle as I heard a silken voice say,
"And who might you be, to be looking at such an arcane text? You are aware of what it contains, aren't you?"
There was such menace in his voice, and such promise, and I could not help but feel that to be torn to shreds verbally by that wonderful sound would not be without its pleasures.
"I am using it to cross-reference entries in these Muggle books," I replied, trying not to sound as intimidated as I felt. "And it isn't entirely accurate, Muggles have developed –"
"Pah! A waste of time, and it's a poor excuse for keeping me from my work!" he interrupted rudely, obviously not in the least bit interested in my opinion. "Give it to me, woman, I have matters of great importance to attend to."
The icy water of his rudeness jolted me from my stupor, dousing me so thoroughly that I drew myself up to my full height and raised my chin in order to look him directly in the eye.
"Certainly, Professor, I should have finished amending it by lunchtime" I bristled, "I'll bring it to your dungeon."
His eyes widened and I got the distinct impression that my newly revealed assertiveness had taken him by surprise. He recovered himself quickly, however, and with a snarl in his voice and a glower on his face, he replied,
"Be sure that you do", before turning on his heel and leaving me alone.
"So, that's what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Snape's legendary harsh tongue," I thought to myself. "And soon I shall be able to observe the creature in its natural habitat." The prospect intrigued me to a slightly greater degree than it alarmed me. I was to regret that the latter feeling had not taken precedence.
Chapter 2Nobody Can Deny That There's Something There
The walk from the library to the dungeons was a long one, giving me plenty of opportunity to dwell on his possible mood following our last encounter. My route was hampered by the constantly shifting staircases, whose grinding alterations forced me to take several detours. By the time I reached the Entrance Hall, where there remained only one more staircase to go, I was breathless and flushed. I paused to catch my breath but even though my breathing slowed I was uncomfortably aware of the blood rushing through my ears and the palpitations of my heart. At least this final staircase could not shift, I thought grimly as I advanced on it with renewed vigour, since it was built into the foundations of the castle and hewn from the rock, held still by walls on both sides.
The corridors leading to the potions classroom were cool, and lit only dimly. Sconces were plentiful, and regularly spaced, but their flames, which burst into life sequentially as I approached, failed to assuage my apprehension, which had been growing exponentially with my descent. By the time I reached the potions classroom I was even more flushed. I felt ridiculously nervous and berated myself for it. Potions had been one of my favourite subjects at school, and I had never been nervous walking along those eerie corridors before, since I knew the classroom at their end was always flooded with slanting light, which gained entry to the bowels of the castle by way of four large Gothic-arched windows, overlooking the lake. Consequently I had to admit to myself that my agitation centred not on the lair, but on the dragon within.
Taking a deep breath I entered the empty classroom and walked briskly to Snape's desk. I left the book there and was turning to leave when a hidden door, presumably to his office and private rooms, swung open and Professor Snape emerged, sweeping over to me.
"At last!" he said, picking up the volume and turning back to his office without even acknowledging my presence.
"You're welcome!" I muttered, angered by his rudeness. He halted, turned around and regarded me coldly.
"Ah. Yes, thank you for keeping me from my work all morning. I do so appreciate your kind efforts. Now please leave." His eyes glittered black, and bored into mine, daring me to respond. I opened my mouth, but no words came. I caught a flash of triumph in his eyes, before he turned and was gone. I glared at the concealed doorway, now closed again, and berated myself for my weakness.
I was still fuming by the time I reached the entrance hall and when someone called out my name I whirled round, snarling
"What?" to find Professor Lupin looking at me quizzically.
"I see you've been down in the dungeons," he noted.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor Lupin, I thought you were somebody else!" I stuttered, embarrassed.
"No prizes for guessing who, I don't suppose?" he smiled. "You look like you need some fresh air, to cool off! Fancy a walk?"
Realising that he had not taken offence, I nodded, and we went out through the great oak doors on to the front lawn.
"How are you finding life here at Hogwarts?" he asked as we walked.
"It's great to be back," I replied, sincerely. "I loved my school years here, and things haven't changed that much in twenty years. People are very friendly. Well, most people."
Lupin laughed. "Good old Severus. Always such a charmer!"
We walked in the grounds for an hour or so, easy in one another's company. We reminisced about our schooldays, and although Lupin and his friends had left the year before I'd started there, his recollections were so colourful that I could almost see him, with his friends James, Sirius and Peter, running along the path to Herbology, or flopping into the snow after a snowball fight.
Snape had been in the same year, and Lupin painted a picture of an aloof, lonely young man whose sarcasm and impatience won him no friends.
"Except for Lily," Lupin remembered wistfully, his soft blue eyes clouding for a moment.
"Lily Potter?" I asked, incredulous.
"Oh yes," said Lupin, "but she dumped him for James. Made him even more anti-social, if that's possible. Sent him off the rails for a couple of years after, too…" he mused.
"It's scary, isn't it, what love can do," I observed.
"Yes, and I can't say I'm surprised, in his case. I think we were all a little in love with Lily. Anyway," he went on, brightening, "the best man won! James was the best friend anyone could have, and Harry looks so much like him, you know. I think that's one of the reasons Snape finds it so easy to give him a hard time."
"Hmph!" I snorted. "So what's his excuse for being rude to the rest of us?"
Lupin laughed, "Oh, you'll get used to it!"
We had made a leisurely circuit of the formal lawns as we had talked, and as we entered the rose walk we came across a large black dog, who had been too distracted by the many and varied interesting scents therein to pay us much heed until we were nearly upon him. I was not terribly taken aback when the dog barked happily and transfigured before my eyes into Professor Sirius Black, and noted with interest that he stood easily a head taller than either Lupin or me, probably almost as tall as Professor Snape. I felt a most unwelcome tugging sensation in the pit of my stomach as I remembered Snape's eyes, and made myself a mental note to put the wretched man out of my mind. Professor Black was an extremely attractive man, smiling broadly as he shook my outstretched hand while Lupin introduced us properly.
"Delighted to meet you, Miss Redemte! I've seen you at mealtimes, kept meaning to visit the library and make your acquaintance, but, well…"
"What he means is, he's always had an aversion to the library, and anything that smacks of studying! It started at around age eleven, if my memory serves me…"
Black thumped Lupin on the arm good-naturedly and I laughed uncertainly.
"Not a very good example to set to your students, Professor?"
"Ah, well, I influence them by the sheer force of my personality!" he laughed, and Lupin rolled his eyes. I giggled but found myself thinking of another tall, dark, strikingly attractive Professor whose personality, while very different, was just as powerful.
Lupin, Black and I were all laughing together like old friends by the time we had strolled back to the main doors of the school. As we went up the steps, Professor Snape was on his way out through the great oak doors, and he scowled at each of us in turn as he swept past. Lupin looked at me and shrugged, and I tried not to giggle. As he strode down the steps behind us, however, I couldn't stop myself from turning to watch him go. He wore black from top to toe, and made no concession to the late summer sunshine, I noticed, watching the way his black cloak billowed out behind him in his wake, revealing long legs which drew my eye almost as enticingly as the way the light breeze blew back his long, blue-black hair. Musing on why he felt the need to button himself up so comprehensively on such a sultry afternoon, I was oblivious to Professor Black's words.
"So, what do you say, Ella?"
"Sorry, er, what?" I turned back to my companions, flustered and confused.
"Tomorrow night! Will you join Remus and me at the Three Broomsticks?"
"Oh! Yes, I'd love to, thanks!" I smiled sincerely, eager to further my acquaintance with both of them, and to have something to take my mind off their bad-tempered colleague.
Lupin and Black advised me to dress down for our visit to the Three Broomsticks, where the atmosphere on a Friday was always very informal. I wore Muggle dress; tight, faded jeans and a low cut long sleeved black sweater. I noticed that Lupin's casual attire was no less scruffy than his rather threadbare teaching robes, and he looked endearingly dishevelled. Sirius Black, on the other hand, appeared to be dressed to impress, in a baggy white shirt and tight leather trousers with a laced up fly. I wondered, noting the bar staff's reaction to our entrance, how many of them had had the pleasure of unlacing those trousers with their teeth, and grinned wryly at the mental image.
The atmosphere in the pub was intimate, despite the noise and the bustle, and we could converse easily and without interruption. We quickly drank several pints each of foaming butterbeer, and quickly progressed to shorts and raucous laughter as the evening wore on. I was on my way back from the cloakroom, flushed and still smiling at one of Sirius' jokes, when I saw Snape. I stopped in my tracks in order to study him before he noticed I was there. He intrigued me, and I could not deny it. He was sitting at the bar, his cloak wet and steaming due to the change in temperature from the cool autumn evening outside and the warmth within, and even though he had had his back to me and I had thought myself unobserved, his back straightened as I approached and he turned his head, saying sardonically,
"I have been able to form two opinions about you so far, Miss Redemte."
"Only two?" I noted, tossing back my hair and trying to add a note of insouciance to my trembling voice. He swung round on his stool until he was facing me and his lip curled in a sneer as he continued,
"One, you make a habit of staring at people when you believe yourself to be unobserved and two, I see you're not fussy about the type of company you keep."
"No, not at all," I countered swiftly, wincing inwardly at the accuracy of his first comment and choosing to ignore it, "and that's why I'd like to ask you to join us, Professor Snape!"
Jet black eyes bored deep into me, and then with another disdainful curl of his lip he turned back to his whisky. I returned to my place, but was far too aware of Snape's brooding presence to be able to join in the conversation as enthusiastically as before. He sat at the bar, hunched over his drink like a huge black raven, glowering at us, and I wished that the cut of my jeans did not provoke such a telling reminder of the powerfully erotic effect he was having on me every time I shifted in my seat.
Eventually, I went to the bar for another round, and, deliberately going to stand next to him, said,
"The invitation still stands, Professor. You do seem to find our conversation of interest."
"You're mistaken. I would prefer to drink alone."
Emboldened by the quantity of alcohol I had drunk, I said,
"Then why are you staring? Are you trying to make me feel uncomfortable?"
He looked me up and down, slowly, and I felt suddenly exposed and vulnerable, my body shivering with gooseflesh as if he was tracing with his long, tapering fingers the route followed by his piercing obsidian eyes. When they met mine once more, I blushed, and yet couldn't look away.
Instead of answering, he drained his glass and, with a lingering look at me, rose and swept out of the bar. I watched him leave, and then returned to my seat with a sigh, disappointed. Lupin and Black looked at one another, then at me, with raised eyebrows.
"There's just something about him!" I shrugged, helplessly.
Later, I lay on my bed looking out at the stars as they lay like millions of diamonds on the bible black velvet of the night sky, and since sleep eluded me, relived my recent encounters with Snape. His rudeness angered me, and yet I found myself eager to see him again. I reached under my bed and pulled out of a small storage box my copy of the Hogwarts prospectus. I leafed through it until I came to the staff list, which consisted of a small photograph and brief resume of each member of the faculty. I scanned it quickly, all the pictures smiling and waving at me. Except for his. His was brooding, motionless save for the occasional toss of his hair, and his eyes bored in to mine just as they had done on all our encounters so far.
I shivered, and could almost feel his presence in the room with me. I could not take my eyes from his, nor did I want to. I felt a tugging sensation deep inside me, deeper than in the pit of my stomach, and I could not deny the way my body was betraying me. Despite his arrogance, and the distinct lack of promise evinced in our encounters so far, I wanted him, and the realisation kept me awake for the rest of the night.
His chair was empty the following morning at breakfast, and again at lunch. By late afternoon I was no longer able to concentrate on my work, such was my desire to see him again. My agitation was so strong, and so unexpected, and my interest in him so obviously discouraged and unreciprocated yet, in spite of it all, simply undeniable. He was a black hole of a man, mysterious and light years distant from me, but his gravitational pull was completely irresistible. I neither knew nor cared how he saw me; his disapprobation would make no difference to me anyway.
I had not the nerve to seek him out, so I decided a brief walk down by the lake might distract me. The day was warm, and the lakeside busy with late-summer midges and drowsy wasps, so after a while I decided to head for the relative shade at the edge of the forest, which looked dark and cool, and inviting.
I had not ventured in far, however, when I spotted a dark shape a little further in, moving slowly and stooping to pick up fungi from the forest floor. It was Snape, and I felt a lurch of excitement in my stomach. I stepped forward, meaning to engage him in conversation, but instead I caught my foot in a tree root and fell, twisting my ankle badly. I shouted out in pain, and then felt a sharp stinging sensation in the arm, which had broken my fall. Looking down, I saw a small snake slithering away into the undergrowth. I heard an impatient voice call,
"What're you doing in here, don't you know the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to stu-….oh, it's you!" He leaned over me, his hair falling into his face, and everything went black.
When I came to, I was in his arms, and he was carrying me up to the school, looking straight ahead. I felt his strong arms around my back and my thighs, and the broadness of his chest against my side. My arm was snaked around his neck, and his long hair tickled my bare skin as he moved. My head was swimming, and I could not tell whether it was a reaction to his closeness, or simply the snake venom. Either way, I was lucid enough to feel grateful that he had spared me the indignity of using the Mobilicorpus spell to return me to the castle.
"What's happening?" I asked weakly.
"I'm in the process of saving your life, you silly girl!" he snapped. "You've been bitten by a snake and it needs immediate attention. I have a remedy in my office. You're very fortunate that I was nearby!"
"Thank you," I murmured, and was rewarded by a short glance from unreadable eyes.
By the time we reached the dungeons, I was sweating and shivering, my vision blurred. I believe I passed out again, for when I awoke I was lying on a large oaken bed with crisp white sheets, a green chenille counterpane and heavy green velvet drapes at each corner. Light streamed through the window, silhouetting a tall black figure, which approached the bed as I turned my head to look at it.
Suddenly, his face was inches from mine, his breath hot on my cheeks, his hand on my forehead as he looked into my eyes. My heart leapt, but he immediately withdrew, and, turning from me, said,
"You see, Poppy, she's much better. Her fever has broken and her eyes seem clear now."
Madam Pomfrey was at the foot of the bed, and replied,
"Well, I would still have preferred it if you'd brought her directly to me, Severus. She'd be far better off in the hospital wing under my care."
"There was no time, Poppy! You can see that, surely?" he retorted, in a far more animated tone than I had ever heard from him.
"But Severus, this is your bedroom…"
"What, do you expect that I will take advantage of her fragile state and seduce her?"
(Oh, yes please, I thought)
"People will talk!" Madam Pomfrey countered.
"As if I care!" he replied.
"Oh, very well, Severus. I'll leave her in your capable hands. Do let me know if I can be of any assistance!" And with that pointed remark, she left the room.
My mind was in turmoil, and I feigned sleep as I considered my situation. Snape had taken me to his chambers, placed me in his bed, and watched over me himself. There would seem to be no reason, now the crisis had passed, to refuse to transfer me to Madam Pomfrey's care, in the hospital wing, and I wondered why he was allowing me to remain in his inner sanctum. I smiled to myself. Perhaps I had found a chink in his armour, and should capitalise on that, if I could.
I opened my eyes to the sudden darkening of my eyelids, which alerted me to his presence. He looked down at me and said,
"You are much improved."
"Thank you," I said, groaning inwardly when I immediately realised that his words had been meant as a comment on my health, not my appearance. I tried to sit up, and he leant over me, his hands gripping my waist as he helped me to a more upright position. Despite my fragile state, I was thrillingly aware of how his hands felt through my thin nightgown. I felt weak with desire for him and moaned involuntarily. He withdrew, saying
"Are you in pain?"
"No" I breathed.
He looked at me curiously and crossed to a small table under the window on which stood a pewter goblet and a large jug of iced water. He poured some out, and added the contents of a small vial, which he removed from his robes.
"What is that?" I asked as he brought it to me.
"It's a restorative tonic I have made. Drink it," he said shortly. I concurred, my eyes never leaving his face, and though it tasted foul I made no complaint. He seemed satisfied, and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him.
As the potion took effect I was aware of a pleasant tingling sensation, which began in the pit of my stomach and spread quickly throughout my entire body. It was like butterfly kisses all over me at once, inside and out, and I wondered, as it lulled me into sleep, whether he knew of its effect, whether he had indeed designed it that way? He was indeed a very talented man, I decided, and I drifted away with the name "Severus..." on my lips.