7. Scars and Dreams
She got a glimpse of the room, dimly lit with a low fire in the fireplace. A window. One of the big Hogwarts beds, four posters, soft mattresses, feather pillows. She smelled the fragrant burning firewood, and she smelled the scent of the man who carried her.
"I can walk," she protested softly
"I can't wait." His voice was mocking her and so was his mouth, brushing over her throat when he set her onto the bed.
"Wand or hands?" he asked and left her puzzled.
"Hands then," he decided and started to undo the fastening of her robe, slowly, one button after the other. Her arms went around him, fingers diving into his hair, pulling him closer, no soft strokes, no caresses, just holding on to him. His mouth fastened at her collarbone, not gentle, not soft, but hot, almost vicious. She fought for control.
"Let go," he murmured. "Stop denying this to yourself." He was aching to have her. But her struggle to hold back challenged him at the same time.
"I must not. I won't be able to stop ..."
His mouth teased her and wandered freely.
"Here, with me, you may. Nowhere else."
His mouth had found her nipple, and cupped it, hot and wet. She shuddered with ecstasy when he began to suck it, slowly but without mercy.
"I'll fall." She bit her lip in despair.
"I'll catch you."
Laurel could hardly hear him, her pulse thundering in her ears like a giant drum. And that was how she felt - like a drum, ready for his strokes, so tense it was almost painful.
"Let go."
He said it softly, breathing hard, sliding a finger down her body, over her navel, into her vagina, never fumbling, knowing exactly what he was doing. She was wet and ready. His hand took up the steady rhythm of his mouth on her breast. Her moans guided him, allowed him to take her from surprise to awe to helpless surrender.
She felt herself slipping and reached for his wrist beneath her thighs. Pressing against his palm, his fingers, she felt a ball of heat explode and spread in hot waves all through her body. Gasping for breath she went limp but he wouldn't let go. Stroking her with his thumb, his fingers still deep inside her, he dragged her over until she lay on top of him.
"Again. As many times as you need." His mouth covered hers, his tongue exploring every inch. This time she went smoothly, without stalling, completely trusting him. When she came, he shared her breath, her moans, her every thrust against his hand, his loins. Her eyes glazed over but held him captive.
She reached for him again, but not for his hand. When she touched his painfully erect cock he gasped. Pushing her gently stroking hand aside, he rolled over her, spread her thighs and drove himself into her.
He could see her eyes widen as he thrust deeper and deeper into her, her lips open in soundless moans. Arching under him, she took him in, welcoming him with wetness and warmth. One more time he stalled, let her come and held onto her so she wouldn't fall. Only then, when she was laying there, trembling and out of breath, he thrust into her forcefully and allowed himself release.
When Laurel opened her eyes, it had to be early afternoon. Snow fell softly behind the frosted window. Something had woken her, some sound she wasn't familiar with. She sat up quickly.
Severus had not stayed in bed with her after their encounter but settled into one of the deep chairs in the adjoining room. She knew without words that he couldn't stand the proximity of a shared bed.
Barefoot, a blanket wrapped around her as a makeshift robe, she padded into the next room. The fire had burned down and cast a reddish shadow over the chairs and the man huddled under a plaid. At first she thought him sleeping but then she saw how his head turned restlessly, heard soft moans. She knelt down at his side and tried to remember what she knew about nightmares. Not much, only that you are not supposed to wake a dreamer. Or was that a sleepwalker? Snape fought an invisible adversary and muttered words she didn't understand. Cold sweat covered his forehead. His lips were even paler than usual.
Finally Laurel couldn't watch him fight any longer. Gently she pushed his shoulder, aware that he might strike out against her when he woke up. Which was exactly what he did. She grabbed both his wrists and tried to calm him. "Sssh. Everything is fine. Severus, can you hear me? You had a dream, a nightmare."
"Where am I?" he gasped.
"You are home," she tried to calm him only to see his eyes widen in absolute terror.
"Home?"
"We are at Hogwarts. It was just a bad dream. It is over."
He looked around as if he expected an attack any minute.
Laurel stroked the black strands out of his eyes.
"There is nobody here but you and me. Nobody can reach you here."
His breath gradually slowed but his face remained without even the faintest hint of colour. When Laurel touched his hair again, he took her hand and looked at it as if he had never seen it before.
"Nobody can hurt you," she repeated.
'How very wrong you are,' he thought and sought oblivion in her embrace.
She woke up and snuggled back into the pillows before she opened her eyes. The light was still dim but it had to be early morning this time. A shadow fell over her face and she almost jumped. Then she remembered last night and couldn't suppress a smug smile. No matter how detached and cool this man behaved in everyday life, he was neither in the bedroom.
Severus stood in front of the fireplace, naked but for his pants and a sock. When he picked up his shirt and turned, she let out a startled cry. His bare back was covered with a web of scars, some only silvery lines, some pale welts of thickened skin.
He turned in a graceful motion and starred at her.
"What's wrong?"
"Your back," she said, shaken.
For a moment he went all icy and dangerous. She understood perfectly well why all the students were in awe of him and even most of the teachers avoided him.
Then he continued to put on his shirt.
"It is nothing of your concern."
"Is that why you wouldn't let me touch you?"
"You should get dressed. Maybe they'll let us go now."
His voice didn't betray the uproar he felt. He was all confused and out of sync, didn't know what to make of this night. Shuddering inwardly he remembered the nights at Lucius Malfoy's house. Pumping music, potions and alcohol. Women who wouldn't be satisfied until blood was shed. Who throve on pain, on violence. But this night had been different. She had been different.
Angry with himself he tied his robe and avoided to look at her.
Laurel splashed her face with water from the washstand. The traces of old wounds on his back disturbed her greatly but not as much as his silence. They had just spent the most passionate night and he had made her feel in a way nobody ever had. Still - she knew she had no right to ask for any explanations.
Snape stood by the window when she returned to the sitting room.
She dug up all her courage but her voice still trembled when she spoke. "About last night. I … I didn't know it could be like this.
His jaws clenched, he continued to stare out of the window.
Bravely she continued, "It felt as if my body and soul were about to melt."
"That's how it is supposed to be," he replied softly without looking at her. "Every time. Don't let anybody fool you."
"I was so afraid ... to allow myself to let go. All my life I fought for control and now ..."
He turned, his face in the shadows so she couldn't read his features. "This is the one situation when you do not need to control yourself. I'll be there to catch you when you fall."
"Thank you," she tried to smile. "I know quite well that you did more for my pleasure than I did for yours."
"No, it is I who has to thank you. For your courage."
"Courage?"
"For tying your fate to mine. This is not your war."
"I am not so sure anymore." Her mouth had suddenly become very stubborn. "If somebody tries to kill me, I take it as a declaration of war."
They stood at the door and hesitated. Laurel wasn't sure what she dreaded more- to find the circular corridor outside or the real one. She looked up and studied the Potions master's guarded face.
"How do you feel?"
His black eyes betrayed nothing. "What do you mean?"
"It's just that you look … different."
He sighed. "I slept."
"Yes?"
"I haven't had more than two hours of sleep a night since I …"
"But you are the Potions master. It was you who told us there is a potion for every problem."
"I did not. I said there was a potion to every end. As all magic this also follows the laws of balance. What ever you gain you pay back threefold. Love induced by a love potion will turn against you eventually. Find sleep with a sleep potion and after a while you won't sleep at all anymore."
Not that he hadn't tried, he thought. After all he knew more about potions than anybody at Hogwarts. But all he had found was the desperate awareness of addiction. And that was the last thing he needed. It had taken him weeks to get off the stuff. So night after night he awoke in cold sweat and out of breath with terror. But not last night.
"Last night I slept like a log."
She smiled.
"Shall we try it? Open the door?"
"Wait." He placed a hand on hers on the door knob. "We need to talk. When we go out there, things will be different."
Laurel pulled her hand back. She had seen it coming and was determined to get a head start out of this. "No need for excuses, OK? We just go our ways and pretend the last night never happened."
Silence was the only answer. When she couldn't face the carpet anymore she looked up.
"If this is what you want I shall not stand in your way," Snape replied casually. "But it is not what we need to talk about."
"Oh."
"You should remember that from now on there is a tie between the two of us."
"Meaning exactly?"
"A connection. Of what kind I am not sure. When I said I wanted to spare you I didn't only mean spare you my … attentions." His eyes grew darker than ever. "Being connected to me may put you in grave danger. I told Dumbledore but he wouldn't listen."
"Whoever is out to kill me tries to hurt you. So I wouldn't be safe, tie or not. And let me remind you, Potions master, that I am not a kid. I take my own decisions. I slept with you because I wanted to."
He acknowledged her statement with a bow of his head. "I'll protect you as much as I am able to."
"And I'll ...," she was lost for words. "What can I offer you?"
Snape cocked his head, his face as serious as she had never seen it before, angry yes, mocking yes, even disgusted, but not like this. "Your honesty."
"My honesty?"
"There'll be no ... lies ... between us. If I ever get lost in this maze of deceit and betrayal I'll need someone to remind me who I am."
She answered without words, just by touching his arm ever so lightly. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped away from him.
"And now that we are … connected, may I borrow the murderous look you reserve for Harry? Any assassin will drop dead right on the spot when I look at him that way."
"I should not think so. Do not take this lightly. It is not a joke."
"I know."
"Good. Because none of us may have the last laugh." He pointed his wand at the door. "Allohemora."
The door flew open and outside the corridor was crowded with students on their way to breakfast.
"You there, Finch-Fletchley!" Snape spat when a teenager with floppy hair ran past them. "Ten points from Hufflepuff for running. And get a haircut!"
Laurel sighed. Welcome back to the real world.
* * *
"Where the hell have you been?" Serene was all upset.
"I was sick. Food poisoning."
"You didn't spend last night in your bed nor in the hospital! I checked."
Laurel avoided her room mate's curious look by diving deep into her chest and rummaging for her book.
"We'll be late for class." This usually sufficed to make Serene shut up and run, but not this time.
"So what? I think I have right to know what you have been up to!"
Laurel sat on her bed. "Do you? What exactly lets you think that? Face it, Serene, we are not best friends, we are not even friends. Why should I tell you anything?"
"Because I worried about you."
The two women starred at each other. Serene was the first to break the silence. "Listen, I know we are not close or anything. But I really worried about you. I thought you might have sneaked out to get away from Hogwarts. And Ben noticed that Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were not present at Dinner. So I assumed the teachers already knew you were on the run."
Laurel shook her head. "I wasn't. I just … wanted some time by myself and asked Madame Pomfrey to send away any visitors." Last night, she thought by herself, was the first night she hadn't wasted a thought on running away.
"I appreciate your concern." She gave Serene a hesitant smile. "Lets go now or we'll be late."
* * *
In the days that followed nobody could have assumed that Professor Snape and Miss Hunter had ever exchanged a handshake save passionate kisses. In class he treated her like any Non-Slytherin, she resorted to "yes, Sir" and "no, Sir" and they both took great care to never touch when he passed her a pestle or knife.
Laurel caught Dumbledore's worried look at Dinner and gave him a reassuring smile. But the Headmaster could not be fooled. Snape had excused himself at Dinner again - allegedly he had to restock his supplies. And the girl - Dumbledore thought of all woman beneath McGonagall's age as girls - tried bravely to pretend nothing had happened at all. It amazed the old wizard that nobody in Hogwarts, not even his colleagues, seemed to notice the faint ray of light that connected Snape to the girl whenever they were in the same room. He doubted that even the two people concerned were aware of it.
* * *
After a week Serene eventually ceased to bother Laurel with questions.
Thankfully Laurel did everything to keep it that way. At night she went to bed early and barricaded behind books and scrolls, while Serene did the same. One of the few advantages of being a mature student was the absence of a prefect who would tell them to do their reading in the common room.
A sharp rap on the door made both women lower their books.
Serene pursed her lips. "I bet it's Hermione Granger, again. So you take it!"
"She helped me a lot with my spells lately."
"She is just a nosy little brat," Serene spat. "And she is not as clever as her friends make her think she is."
"My, are we merciless tonight!" Laurel muttered when she set the books aside and got up. It was so obvious. Serene envied Hermione. After all the girl had everything Serene had craved all her live.
She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and padded barefoot to the door.
When she opened it and recognised the nightly visitor she slipped out and pulled the door closed so quickly that Serene couldn't get a glimpse of the man outside.
Laurel stood in the icy corridor and felt awkward.
"I thought you wizards move through the castle by Floo? But then Serene would probably faint if you appeared in our bedroom at this ungodly hour. She has a soft spot for all things Slytherin, you must know."
The words died away when she took a closer look at his face. Harsh on a good day, it was now tormented. She saw pain, deep creases, dark shadows under his eyes.
"What's wrong?" Concern strained her voice. "Severus, is anything wrong?"
He just stared at her, the wild hair, the checked pyjamas, the bare feet. The warmth she radiated. He was a fool to let her into his life or what passed for it lately.
"Severus?" She laid a hand at his cold cheek.
He surrendered.
"The nightmares … I don't dare to fall asleep."
"Oh."
"I know I have no right to ask this of you, but …"
He saw her shudder in the icy draft on the corridor and changed his mind. "Forget about it. Get back to bed before you catch your death."
When he turned to return to his quarters down in the dungeons, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "If I go back inside to get my slippers, Serene won't let me leave again without a billion questions."
His mind moved so slow it took him half a minute to understand. Then he swept her in his arms and carried her down the staircases to the dungeons.
The paintings started to whisper frantically. Snape shot them a venomous glance. "There are potions which make a fine paint remover, you know," he remarked casually when he passed a particularly nosy framed countess. "So shut the hell up, will you."
* * *
She got a glimpse of the room, dimly lit with a low fire in the fireplace. A window. One of the big Hogwarts beds, four posters, soft mattresses, feather pillows. She smelled the fragrant burning firewood, and she smelled the scent of the man who carried her.
"I can walk," she protested softly
"I can't wait." His voice was mocking her and so was his mouth, brushing over her throat when he set her onto the bed.
"Wand or hands?" he asked and left her puzzled.
"Hands then," he decided and started to undo the fastening of her robe, slowly, one button after the other. Her arms went around him, fingers diving into his hair, pulling him closer, no soft strokes, no caresses, just holding on to him. His mouth fastened at her collarbone, not gentle, not soft, but hot, almost vicious. She fought for control.
"Let go," he murmured. "Stop denying this to yourself." He was aching to have her. But her struggle to hold back challenged him at the same time.
"I must not. I won't be able to stop ..."
His mouth teased her and wandered freely.
"Here, with me, you may. Nowhere else."
His mouth had found her nipple, and cupped it, hot and wet. She shuddered with ecstasy when he began to suck it, slowly but without mercy.
"I'll fall." She bit her lip in despair.
"I'll catch you."
Laurel could hardly hear him, her pulse thundering in her ears like a giant drum. And that was how she felt - like a drum, ready for his strokes, so tense it was almost painful.
"Let go."
He said it softly, breathing hard, sliding a finger down her body, over her navel, into her vagina, never fumbling, knowing exactly what he was doing. She was wet and ready. His hand took up the steady rhythm of his mouth on her breast. Her moans guided him, allowed him to take her from surprise to awe to helpless surrender.
She felt herself slipping and reached for his wrist beneath her thighs. Pressing against his palm, his fingers, she felt a ball of heat explode and spread in hot waves all through her body. Gasping for breath she went limp but he wouldn't let go. Stroking her with his thumb, his fingers still deep inside her, he dragged her over until she lay on top of him.
"Again. As many times as you need." His mouth covered hers, his tongue exploring every inch. This time she went smoothly, without stalling, completely trusting him. When she came, he shared her breath, her moans, her every thrust against his hand, his loins. Her eyes glazed over but held him captive.
She reached for him again, but not for his hand. When she touched his painfully erect cock he gasped. Pushing her gently stroking hand aside, he rolled over her, spread her thighs and drove himself into her.
He could see her eyes widen as he thrust deeper and deeper into her, her lips open in soundless moans. Arching under him, she took him in, welcoming him with wetness and warmth. One more time he stalled, let her come and held onto her so she wouldn't fall. Only then, when she was laying there, trembling and out of breath, he thrust into her forcefully and allowed himself release.
When Laurel opened her eyes, it had to be early afternoon. Snow fell softly behind the frosted window. Something had woken her, some sound she wasn't familiar with. She sat up quickly.
Severus had not stayed in bed with her after their encounter but settled into one of the deep chairs in the adjoining room. She knew without words that he couldn't stand the proximity of a shared bed.
Barefoot, a blanket wrapped around her as a makeshift robe, she padded into the next room. The fire had burned down and cast a reddish shadow over the chairs and the man huddled under a plaid. At first she thought him sleeping but then she saw how his head turned restlessly, heard soft moans. She knelt down at his side and tried to remember what she knew about nightmares. Not much, only that you are not supposed to wake a dreamer. Or was that a sleepwalker? Snape fought an invisible adversary and muttered words she didn't understand. Cold sweat covered his forehead. His lips were even paler than usual.
Finally Laurel couldn't watch him fight any longer. Gently she pushed his shoulder, aware that he might strike out against her when he woke up. Which was exactly what he did. She grabbed both his wrists and tried to calm him. "Sssh. Everything is fine. Severus, can you hear me? You had a dream, a nightmare."
"Where am I?" he gasped.
"You are home," she tried to calm him only to see his eyes widen in absolute terror.
"Home?"
"We are at Hogwarts. It was just a bad dream. It is over."
He looked around as if he expected an attack any minute.
Laurel stroked the black strands out of his eyes.
"There is nobody here but you and me. Nobody can reach you here."
His breath gradually slowed but his face remained without even the faintest hint of colour. When Laurel touched his hair again, he took her hand and looked at it as if he had never seen it before.
"Nobody can hurt you," she repeated.
'How very wrong you are,' he thought and sought oblivion in her embrace.
She woke up and snuggled back into the pillows before she opened her eyes. The light was still dim but it had to be early morning this time. A shadow fell over her face and she almost jumped. Then she remembered last night and couldn't suppress a smug smile. No matter how detached and cool this man behaved in everyday life, he was neither in the bedroom.
Severus stood in front of the fireplace, naked but for his pants and a sock. When he picked up his shirt and turned, she let out a startled cry. His bare back was covered with a web of scars, some only silvery lines, some pale welts of thickened skin.
He turned in a graceful motion and starred at her.
"What's wrong?"
"Your back," she said, shaken.
For a moment he went all icy and dangerous. She understood perfectly well why all the students were in awe of him and even most of the teachers avoided him.
Then he continued to put on his shirt.
"It is nothing of your concern."
"Is that why you wouldn't let me touch you?"
"You should get dressed. Maybe they'll let us go now."
His voice didn't betray the uproar he felt. He was all confused and out of sync, didn't know what to make of this night. Shuddering inwardly he remembered the nights at Lucius Malfoy's house. Pumping music, potions and alcohol. Women who wouldn't be satisfied until blood was shed. Who throve on pain, on violence. But this night had been different. She had been different.
Angry with himself he tied his robe and avoided to look at her.
Laurel splashed her face with water from the washstand. The traces of old wounds on his back disturbed her greatly but not as much as his silence. They had just spent the most passionate night and he had made her feel in a way nobody ever had. Still - she knew she had no right to ask for any explanations.
Snape stood by the window when she returned to the sitting room.
She dug up all her courage but her voice still trembled when she spoke. "About last night. I … I didn't know it could be like this.
His jaws clenched, he continued to stare out of the window.
Bravely she continued, "It felt as if my body and soul were about to melt."
"That's how it is supposed to be," he replied softly without looking at her. "Every time. Don't let anybody fool you."
"I was so afraid ... to allow myself to let go. All my life I fought for control and now ..."
He turned, his face in the shadows so she couldn't read his features. "This is the one situation when you do not need to control yourself. I'll be there to catch you when you fall."
"Thank you," she tried to smile. "I know quite well that you did more for my pleasure than I did for yours."
"No, it is I who has to thank you. For your courage."
"Courage?"
"For tying your fate to mine. This is not your war."
"I am not so sure anymore." Her mouth had suddenly become very stubborn. "If somebody tries to kill me, I take it as a declaration of war."
They stood at the door and hesitated. Laurel wasn't sure what she dreaded more- to find the circular corridor outside or the real one. She looked up and studied the Potions master's guarded face.
"How do you feel?"
His black eyes betrayed nothing. "What do you mean?"
"It's just that you look … different."
He sighed. "I slept."
"Yes?"
"I haven't had more than two hours of sleep a night since I …"
"But you are the Potions master. It was you who told us there is a potion for every problem."
"I did not. I said there was a potion to every end. As all magic this also follows the laws of balance. What ever you gain you pay back threefold. Love induced by a love potion will turn against you eventually. Find sleep with a sleep potion and after a while you won't sleep at all anymore."
Not that he hadn't tried, he thought. After all he knew more about potions than anybody at Hogwarts. But all he had found was the desperate awareness of addiction. And that was the last thing he needed. It had taken him weeks to get off the stuff. So night after night he awoke in cold sweat and out of breath with terror. But not last night.
"Last night I slept like a log."
She smiled.
"Shall we try it? Open the door?"
"Wait." He placed a hand on hers on the door knob. "We need to talk. When we go out there, things will be different."
Laurel pulled her hand back. She had seen it coming and was determined to get a head start out of this. "No need for excuses, OK? We just go our ways and pretend the last night never happened."
Silence was the only answer. When she couldn't face the carpet anymore she looked up.
"If this is what you want I shall not stand in your way," Snape replied casually. "But it is not what we need to talk about."
"Oh."
"You should remember that from now on there is a tie between the two of us."
"Meaning exactly?"
"A connection. Of what kind I am not sure. When I said I wanted to spare you I didn't only mean spare you my … attentions." His eyes grew darker than ever. "Being connected to me may put you in grave danger. I told Dumbledore but he wouldn't listen."
"Whoever is out to kill me tries to hurt you. So I wouldn't be safe, tie or not. And let me remind you, Potions master, that I am not a kid. I take my own decisions. I slept with you because I wanted to."
He acknowledged her statement with a bow of his head. "I'll protect you as much as I am able to."
"And I'll ...," she was lost for words. "What can I offer you?"
Snape cocked his head, his face as serious as she had never seen it before, angry yes, mocking yes, even disgusted, but not like this. "Your honesty."
"My honesty?"
"There'll be no ... lies ... between us. If I ever get lost in this maze of deceit and betrayal I'll need someone to remind me who I am."
She answered without words, just by touching his arm ever so lightly. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped away from him.
"And now that we are … connected, may I borrow the murderous look you reserve for Harry? Any assassin will drop dead right on the spot when I look at him that way."
"I should not think so. Do not take this lightly. It is not a joke."
"I know."
"Good. Because none of us may have the last laugh." He pointed his wand at the door. "Allohemora."
The door flew open and outside the corridor was crowded with students on their way to breakfast.
"You there, Finch-Fletchley!" Snape spat when a teenager with floppy hair ran past them. "Ten points from Hufflepuff for running. And get a haircut!"
Laurel sighed. Welcome back to the real world.
* * *
"Where the hell have you been?" Serene was all upset.
"I was sick. Food poisoning."
"You didn't spend last night in your bed nor in the hospital! I checked."
Laurel avoided her room mate's curious look by diving deep into her chest and rummaging for her book.
"We'll be late for class." This usually sufficed to make Serene shut up and run, but not this time.
"So what? I think I have right to know what you have been up to!"
Laurel sat on her bed. "Do you? What exactly lets you think that? Face it, Serene, we are not best friends, we are not even friends. Why should I tell you anything?"
"Because I worried about you."
The two women starred at each other. Serene was the first to break the silence. "Listen, I know we are not close or anything. But I really worried about you. I thought you might have sneaked out to get away from Hogwarts. And Ben noticed that Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were not present at Dinner. So I assumed the teachers already knew you were on the run."
Laurel shook her head. "I wasn't. I just … wanted some time by myself and asked Madame Pomfrey to send away any visitors." Last night, she thought by herself, was the first night she hadn't wasted a thought on running away.
"I appreciate your concern." She gave Serene a hesitant smile. "Lets go now or we'll be late."
* * *
In the days that followed nobody could have assumed that Professor Snape and Miss Hunter had ever exchanged a handshake save passionate kisses. In class he treated her like any Non-Slytherin, she resorted to "yes, Sir" and "no, Sir" and they both took great care to never touch when he passed her a pestle or knife.
Laurel caught Dumbledore's worried look at Dinner and gave him a reassuring smile. But the Headmaster could not be fooled. Snape had excused himself at Dinner again - allegedly he had to restock his supplies. And the girl - Dumbledore thought of all woman beneath McGonagall's age as girls - tried bravely to pretend nothing had happened at all. It amazed the old wizard that nobody in Hogwarts, not even his colleagues, seemed to notice the faint ray of light that connected Snape to the girl whenever they were in the same room. He doubted that even the two people concerned were aware of it.
* * *
After a week Serene eventually ceased to bother Laurel with questions.
Thankfully Laurel did everything to keep it that way. At night she went to bed early and barricaded behind books and scrolls, while Serene did the same. One of the few advantages of being a mature student was the absence of a prefect who would tell them to do their reading in the common room.
A sharp rap on the door made both women lower their books.
Serene pursed her lips. "I bet it's Hermione Granger, again. So you take it!"
"She helped me a lot with my spells lately."
"She is just a nosy little brat," Serene spat. "And she is not as clever as her friends make her think she is."
"My, are we merciless tonight!" Laurel muttered when she set the books aside and got up. It was so obvious. Serene envied Hermione. After all the girl had everything Serene had craved all her live.
She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and padded barefoot to the door.
When she opened it and recognised the nightly visitor she slipped out and pulled the door closed so quickly that Serene couldn't get a glimpse of the man outside.
Laurel stood in the icy corridor and felt awkward.
"I thought you wizards move through the castle by Floo? But then Serene would probably faint if you appeared in our bedroom at this ungodly hour. She has a soft spot for all things Slytherin, you must know."
The words died away when she took a closer look at his face. Harsh on a good day, it was now tormented. She saw pain, deep creases, dark shadows under his eyes.
"What's wrong?" Concern strained her voice. "Severus, is anything wrong?"
He just stared at her, the wild hair, the checked pyjamas, the bare feet. The warmth she radiated. He was a fool to let her into his life or what passed for it lately.
"Severus?" She laid a hand at his cold cheek.
He surrendered.
"The nightmares … I don't dare to fall asleep."
"Oh."
"I know I have no right to ask this of you, but …"
He saw her shudder in the icy draft on the corridor and changed his mind. "Forget about it. Get back to bed before you catch your death."
When he turned to return to his quarters down in the dungeons, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "If I go back inside to get my slippers, Serene won't let me leave again without a billion questions."
His mind moved so slow it took him half a minute to understand. Then he swept her in his arms and carried her down the staircases to the dungeons.
The paintings started to whisper frantically. Snape shot them a venomous glance. "There are potions which make a fine paint remover, you know," he remarked casually when he passed a particularly nosy framed countess. "So shut the hell up, will you."
* * *
