Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter NOR any of his friends NEITHER any of his enemies. It's hard to admit, but when I'm done with them all, I have to return them to Joanne K. Rowling in an original wrapping and unharmed.
I make no money, I mean no harm.
Checkmate
Gifts and Burdens
Severus did, indeed, come back very late that night. Rebecca, who had fallen asleep some time past midnight, tried her best to make him feel welcome, and didn't even feel offended when he practically passed out during her long and loving foreplay. She couldn't really complain: they woke up in the midday, entwined so close they couldn't even determine who was the first one to wake up and rouse the other.
They got up silently. Severus obviously didn't feel the need to speak, and Rebecca was deeply sorry for that. The silence was driving her crazy. She let the sheets and the blanket breathe and followed Severus into the bathroom.
He was already sitting in the tube and she shed her clothes soundlessly behind his back. He was startled when she slid in the warm water behind him and shifted uneasily when her skin pressed to his. Rebecca took the sponge from Severus' hand and washed his back for him. She traced the hard lines on his back - so tense - and pressed her lips to his skin.
He started, at first, and Rebecca took full advantage of it: seized his shoulders, wrapped her legs around his waist and tasted every inch of the skin she could reach. It was bitter, but she didn't stop to analyse what he had added to the bath. Instead, she bit at the crane of his neck, just hard enough not to break the skin.
He twisted and tried to reach for her. She had nowhere to escape and after a short playful struggle she ended up in her former professor's lap.
If he had been going to say anything, this had wasted his efforts, as he realised they were both naked, groin to groin, sitting in the warm scented water. To get up and flee from the tube and the bathroom would require pushing Rebecca away, and she wouldn't allow that easily. Before Severus could come up with any excuse, Rebecca pressed the length of her body to him and kissed him.
Before they broke up for air, all thoughts of inappropriate, unwise or immoral behaviour fled from Severus' head, and all that remained was the heat of a lean and aroused young girl in his arms and basic instinct that wouldn't let him stop now, even if he thought of it.
His doubts returned later. Rebecca was resting her head on his shoulder, hands unconsciously rubbing his flanks and thighs, quite content and unbothered. The water was slowly cooling off, and Severus reached for his wand to warm it up again. There was something precious about the moment and Severus wanted to savour it for as long as he could, fearing whatever it was making him feel that way, it could be taken away from him abruptly.
Rebecca was only eighteen, he mused, and although her acting suggested she was somewhat experienced in the field of sex, he highly doubted her experience involved relationship with a double agent running high risks every day.
And running late this day, Severus realised with a frown.
"I have to go," he said and gently pushed Rebecca away. She looked at him, nodded and sat back. As generous as she was in letting him get out of her physical reach, she wouldn't let him escape her presence. He felt her eyes following every his movement when he was drying himself and getting dressed and it made heat rise to his cheeks. He was aware of his looks, of his too thin body, yellowish complexion, greasy hair, and he was half expecting to see Rebecca disgusted when he turned back to her. But she didn't seem so: her eyes were kind and warm and she was smiling at him.
"I shall return late tonight," he said carefully, keeping himself distant. Rebecca sat upright and watched him patiently, waiting for him to say whatever he wanted to say. Severus watched her warily. She seemed to be a dangerous creature, though she hadn't given him a reason to believe she would want to cause him any harm. Her breasts got above the water and Severus found he had no idea what he had wanted to say.
"Have a nice day," he muttered lamely and bent to kiss her goodbye. After what they had just done, he mused, it would by hypocritical not to.
Rebecca used the opportunity to communicate her joyous mood. In the end, Severus had to grab her wrists and pull them away from his now drenched shoulders.
"As much as I appreciate your friendliness," he said curtly, "I dried myself before I got dressed in order to keep my robes decent." Rebecca laughed. They were still decent, and a quick charm fixed them nicely.
Once alone, Rebecca quickly washed herself. She found a set of clean robes prepared for her use, and decided to wait for the elf who had provided them - apparently in the minute Rebecca had spent with soap all over her head and eyes firmly shut. She wrapped herself in a towel and sat down on the rim of the tube.
It took the elf twenty minutes to appear, but at the sight of the creature Rebecca concluded it was worth the waiting. Because it was a female elf, and with the muting spell modified...
"Hello, nice to see you. Let's have a talk about my choice of clothes, for starters," Rebecca suggested and her own voice, though a bit roughened by the long disuse, sounded heavenly to her.
An hour later Rebecca left the bathroom dressed in a warm set of robes, carrying a carefully chosen collection of definitively female clothes over her arm. She felt deeply disgusted by the house elf and she finally understood why almost every wizard who took notice of house elves at all disliked them: here was a being gifted with reason and magical powers exceeding those of humans, and yet it was not only enslaved by a pathetic caricature of humanity, it was happy to be enslaved. And that happiness Rebecca couldn't understand at all.
She opened the closet Snape kept his own robes in, pushed all the black fabric to one side and hung her new ones. A merry tune found its way to her lips and she hummed happilly while waiting for the elf to bring her breakfast she had requested.
"Nice to see you like your accomodation," a harsh voice drawled from the doors. Rebecca spun around to see a tall woman with long hair and very dark eyes. There was a malevolent glitter in those eyes and an unpleasant smile curved the thin lips. The woman had been a real beauty once, and was still attractive, although something in her face spoke of horrors no amount of rest and cosmetics could wash away. Rebecca recognised her at once, and braced herself to be able to bear whatever torture Bellatrix Lestrange meant to bring upon her.
Not a real torture, Rebecca assured herself quickly, she couldn't do that - not right under Voldemort's nose, could she?
"It's better than it seemed at the first sight," Rebecca retorted coolly.
"The Dark Lord asked me to come and help you with a... delicate problem," Lestrange said, stepping in and moving slowly further into the room, not directly towards Rebecca.
"My period will start in a day or two," Rebecca explained bluntly. Lestrange wanted to make the discussion as unpleasant as possible, but she couldn't get anywhere near Voldemort on the account... and topic.
"Feeling a bit furry, are we?" Lestrange continued. Rebecca bit down her anger. Sometimes it was really painful to have one's period tied so firmly to the moon cycle.
"More like female," Rebecca clarified. "And I wouldn't like to have my blood everywhere, if you know what I mean."
"Oh, a simple charm can take care of that - surely it isn't too difficult for you to learn?" Lestrange must have known Rebecca didn't have a wand and it was clear she enjoyed every bit of discomfort Rebecca showed immensely.
"I can't do it wandlessly," Rebecca forced through gritted teeth.
"Would you like a wand for the occassion?" Lestrange offered with a queer expression. Rebecca sensed a trap. Nevertheless, she couldn't help watching the wand that appeared in Lestrange's hand longingly. "But only if you're a good girl," Lestrange added, as she held the wand for Rebecca to take.
Rebecca considered declining the offer straight away, as it couldn't be meant seriously, but she missed magic so much she put aside her doubts and reached for the thin wooden stick that could allow her to rejoice with her talent.
It didn't explode when she touched it and she even felt that magical tickling - not as strongly as with her own wand, but beggars can't be choosers. Feeling Lestrange's scrutinising look upon her, she gave the wand a tentative wave.
Lestrange burst into laughter and Rebecca let out a startled yelp as the wand turned into a writhing snake. She threw the animal on the bed and looked at Lestrange, eyes on fire.
"Are you going to help me as Voldemort asked you to, or do I have to wait for someone else?" she snapped angrily. "I'm sure he has more female followers than just you."
"How dare you say his name," Lestrange hissed.
"I call him Voldemort all the time and he never minds," Rebecca shot back. "Can't tell how much he wouldn't mind you not doing as you were told." For a moment she thought she had gone too far with that, but then a shadow of wild fear crossed Lestrange's face. It didn't seem to be a very good idea to disobey Voldemort, even if one belonged to his most trusted.
"I'll get you something today," came the cross answer, and with a hateful glance Lestrange swept out of Severus' rooms.
The moment Slughorn became the Hogwarts Potions Master was cherished by every single seventh-year Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor who took Potions and didn't take Defence with the only exception.
Rebecca missed the tall figure, velvet-like voice, even harsh remarks - even insults. She had planned to use her last year at Hogwarts to her advantage, but now she couldn't. She had promissed Dumbledore she wouldn't seek her beloved professor outside of the class before she would finish the school, but she had had plans for her last year's Potions classes - all marred!
She disliked Horace Slughorn. She found him slippery and manipulative and detested his way of teaching. Whenever she saw her schoolmates, fortunate enough to have been admitted to the N.E.W.T.-level Defence, heading for the class, jealousy overpowered her and she hated Slughorn for simply being alive.
She had had plans for her last year, sweet Merlin, good plans of slowly gaining Snape's attention, so that he wouldn't want to let her slip away at the end of the June. But now, as she wasn't allowed to speak to him, she couldn't carry them out.
In the dead of the night, she was furious with Dumbledore for manipulating her into this position. She was sure he had known he would allow Snape to get his desired position that year, he must have known the last time they had talked to each other before the summer - but he had never released her from her oath, and though the way in which he avoided looking her in the eye suggested he felt guilty about it, she didn't dare breaking her word.
Until the last Thursday before the Christmas break, Rebecca nursed her anger and disgust. But she received an invitation to Dumbledore's office at breakfast, and when she looked up to the staff table, the old wizard returned her gaze with gravity she had never seen him show before.
"Take a seat, my dear," he gestured without his usual merriness when she entered his office shortly before midnight. "I am deeply sorry for keeping you out of bed so long, but there is a little mess you should know about."
Rebecca felt the blood in her veins freezing. No doubt the mess was anything but little - and no doubt Snape was deep in it. Dumbledore took in her pale face and wide eyes and pushed a cup of hot tea towards her.
"I'm afraid our friend got himself in a highly unpleasant situation," he started, eyes fixed upon her face, ready to stop if the news became too much for an eighteen-year-old. But Rebecca listened without as much as adverting her eyes, and she learnt all about the Vow Snape had made, as well about the task he had thus taken upon his shoulders, which turned out to be a murder of the very wizard sitting before her.
"I want you to remember, Rebecca," Dumbledore said imploringly, "that Severus is no murderer - and he will be no murderer by the end of this year, whatever will happen." The gravity of Dumbledore's voice scared Rebecca. Surely there was another way - a way around the Vow - couldn't Narcissa Malfoy release Severus?
Being a pureblood, she knew there was no way except for Mrs. Malfoy's mercy - but what mercy could the woman show, if possibly the only person she cared for in the world could pay dearly for her pity?
The thought of her love dying because of the Vow was unbearable. But to think he would kill Dumbledore, lest Malfoy junior would manage - and who was she kidding, that Malfoy offspring was a backboneless creature - to think of Dumbledore dead... Rebecca put her head in her heads and moaned pitifully. The great wizard was instantly at her side.
"It has been decided," Dumbledore reassured her. "And the decision wasn't yours to make. We are in a war, Rebecca, not only for our own lives, but also for lives of thousands defenceless Muggles, and sacrifices are necessary. Perhaps you will understand in time." She didn't want to understand. Their game was poorly started, with already too few pieces in their colours, and now they were going to sacrifice their strongest piece willingly?
"And there is something else I want you to keep through the war." Dumbledore returned to his side of the desk, unlocked its lower drawer with a complicated spell and retrieved a small crystal flask from it.
Being a pureblood, she realised it was a memory.
"When this war is over, and should Severus be still alive, as I hope, he will have to be cleared. Here is a proof that will be required." He put the flask in her numb hands and closed her fingers around it. "I have prepared more of them and placed them in careful and friendly hands. But no-one else knows what they contain, Rebecca, you are the only one beside Severus himself I can trust to keep the secret hidden from Voldemort. You will guard the secret - and the memory - won't you, Rebecca?" She couldn't bear his gaze, suddenly extremely intent, without closing her mind, and when Dumbledore smiled, she realised she had passed a final test.
She would keep the flask with the precious memory safe, she vowed silently. She would give her own life, she promised to herself, if necessary, to preserve the little flask. Yes, she would willingly die... Her head shot up, eyes wide, mouth gaping.
The time in which she was to understand arrived.
A/N: I wanted to get Dumbledore's wounded hand somewhere in the picture, since they spent enough time in close proximity for Rebecca to notice, but I guess she was too anxious and bewildered (I've been reading old English books lately, does it show a lot? ;)) to notice anything smaller than an explosion of the Hogwarts.
