~*Chapter Ten: An Unlikely Bond*~
Keith had known Sarah since she left Hogwarts – she was an excellent Auror, and he had recruited both Lindsey and Sarah straight off. Looking back, it was one of the best moves of his career – they had completed several successful missions together, the three of them working as a superlative team. And, seeing as he had known Sarah so long, he had assumed he knew every one of her emotions, all of the expressions she tried to keep secret. He liked to know his Aurors inside and out, he wanted to know what drove them, what motivated them. He knew things about her that even Sarah didn't know, nuances and details which casual observers wouldn't pick up. He had even performed multiple extensive background checks on her to ensure she would be the best Auror for the position. She was, of course, and by doing such thorough research, Keith thought he knew everything there was to know about Sarah.
He was very, very wrong.
He had never seen her so embarrassed, furious, and ashamed before. She had her wand out, cheeks flaming red, and those cool silver eyes were the color of heated lead. The Howler she had sent him earlier that morning had screamed at him for fifteen minutes straight, insulting everything from his mother to his great-uncle, and exploded into bad-smelling fireworks which hung around his office popping sparks on his neck. Inwardly, he wondered where on earth she had found such a Howler – but another shower of golden sparks singed his curls, and he ducked back under his desk. She was very quiet – short and petite though she was, Sarah was extremely threatening when she was silent. And Keith knew that when she spoke, it would be in a strained, broken, high-pitched voice which made battered doormice proud. "Keith Nichols, take me out," She squeaked, in that tinny, angry little voice which was both frightening and humorous.
"I would, dearest, but you are holding a wand to my head," Keith said, peering out from under his desk. His wand lay a good five feet away from him, held captive under the toe of Sarah's polished black boot. She kicked the wand towards him exasperatedly, and tucked her wand back into her sleeve. Those full cheeks were flaming red, and Keith crawled hesitantly out from under his desk. Another shower of golden sparkles crisped his neck hair, and he cast a quick Impervious charm over his flammable paperwork. "Where did you get that Howler, by the way? It's annoying and painful, two things which could really sell on the market." Keith asked. She stabbed a finger at him.
"Don't change the subject. Pull me out of this mission." She snapped.
"Why?" Keith asked simply, sitting on the corner of his desk. "Why can't you finish this mission?"
"Why?" Sarah spluttered. "I'll tell you why! I just lost my virginity to the man who murdered my brother! I am also married to that aforementioned murderer, and next Friday, I have to do the exact same thing! I want out! Modify his memory, assign him Lindsey for all I care. I can't do this, Keith!"
"Yes, you can," Keith stated. "You're allowing your personal feelings to get in the way of the mission. You need a memory, Sarah, or at least a record of any killing he made not on Dumbledore's orders. It shouldn't be difficult. I can't imagine he sent Snape off on many missions to kill people." He paused, watching her, and then allowed a slight undercurrent of sincerity to creep into his tone. "You're the best Auror I have, Sarah, and if I send in another one, the missions won't be completed. You are the only one who can do this, Sarah. Do it for Quinn."
"Don't throw Quinn back in my face!" Sarah snarled. "You and Lindsey, you're both using him as a prop to make me do anything you want! Yes, Quinn's death is my fault, and yes, I should have stopped him from going to see Snape! But that doesn't mean you can keep using his death to manipulate me!"
"I'm not manipulating you, Sarah, I'm reminding you of your priorities," Keith said bluntly. "I gave you Snape because you can handle him, and because I know you'd want to personally get your hands on Quinn's killer. You can do this, Sarah, I know you can. Make him dinner. Ask him questions. Try to get on his good side. You have to make this marriage work, Sarah, at least for a little while."
"How long?" Sarah asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Keith queried.
"How long do I have before this is over?" She asked, staring him straight in the eye. "As soon as I get the memory, the mission is over, correct?"
"Correct."
"And what happens to Severus then?"
"He is tried before the Wizengamot and sentenced to Azkaban," Keith lied smoothly. "Very basic." And very cheap, Keith thought mentally. The Life Eaters were shelling out over five thousand Galleons for Severus Snape, enough to make any common man rich. "Tell you what, Sarah – get the memory, and then leave Severus to me. You can take a leave after this, go someplace sunny. The Caribbean, or maybe somewhere in the States. All right? Just make him your friend. I know it'll be hard, but I think you can do it. All right?"
Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose, pushing her glasses up. "All right," She sighed, and then bit her lip.
Making Severus Snape her friend. Oh, Merlin.
She heard the gentle clink of dishes when she came in the door. It was a curiously domestic sound, and she cocked an ear to it for a moment before she realized what it was. Dropping her bag on the shop counter, she climbed up the crooked stairs and opened the door, peeking around it, hoping to catch Severus in a relaxed moment. She did – and was completely taken aback. Severus was washing dishes, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, dark hair tucked behind his ears. His frock coat was folded over the back of a chair, and by checking the clock on the wall she realized she had come home nearly an hour earlier than expected. She had planned to go hash out the details of a new operative, and think of a scheme to modify Severus's memory, but instead had been talked into continuing with the job. So now, observing him in this rare moment, she caught a glimpse of Severus – not Professor Snape, not Snape, just Severus. A quiet living man who had loved a woman with all his heart, loved her desperately, and had her taken from him. They were similar in that respect – both had loved and lost. Those scars aligned, at any rate. And for an instant, she felt sorry for him – just a momentary flicker of sympathy towards the man.
Nearly instantly, she felt repulsed and guilty. He had slain her brother mercilessly. She had no time to be sympathetic to murderers. The momentary softness was written off to her hunger, and the approaching time of the month which rendered nearly all women emotionally unstable. So she shut the door perhaps louder than necessary, and came inside, kicking off her shoes. Severus said nothing, merely shook the water from his hands and flicked his wand, drying the dishes and stacking them neatly with a silent spell. He looked at her as she shrugged off her coat, hung it over the back of a chair, and ran her fingers through her short blonde hair.
And then there was that long, unbearably awkward silence which stretched from then to eternity.
Finally, Sarah scraped up the courage to look him in the eye. As usual, she couldn't read a single emotion in those dark eyes – blank as a wiped slate, but with the curious sensation of absorbing every detail. "What's for dinner?" She asked, very quietly, hardly daring to believe her own mouth. There – that was the first step towards being friends. She felt sick to her stomach – friends with a man she feared and hated. Friends.
"Not particularly hungry, myself," Severus answered, just as quietly. "Although I put the kettle on for tea. Would you like a cup?"
They were being polite – terse. As if they were brief acquaintances instead of unwilling lovers. Sarah nodded, and tried to think of a mutually agreeable topic which might entice him into conversation. And then she decided to throw everything to hell and say what she was thinking. God only knew what emotional turmoil she had been going through the last few days, and if Severus didn't understand, then to hell with that. "Are we supposed to have one of those awkward 'morning after' conversations which generally leads to the dissolving of relationships?"
Oh, hell, what did I just say?
Did he just...? No. Severus Snape would never smile.
But he had – no more than a quirk of his lips, a subtle tilt to the left side of his mouth, despite how tightly his lips were pressed together. "I believe we're having one right now, Miss Gother. If I didn't know better, I would say you were quite practiced at them."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I've had the worst week of my life and am in no mood to be having any awkward moments," Sarah responded tartly. "So yes, I would love a spot of tea, and then I am going to retire with my book. You may putter about in your lab, if you wish, or do whatever morose professors do on weekends." She couldn't believe her mouth was running off like this – somewhere on her way home from the Ministry, her mind and mouth had gotten disconnected. Or maybe perhaps reconnected for the first time in her life.
"I do not 'putter', Miss Gother. I practice extremely serious and difficult potion-making down in my lab, and any potioneer who 'putters' cannot give themselves that title." Severus corrected her sharply, pouring two teacups of tea. Sarah picked up her tea, added a dollop of cream, and began ladling sugar into it. Severus waited until she finished with the sugar bowl and added drily, "I can't imagine you were much at potions, Miss Gother."
"I beg your pardon!" Sarah said, affronted. "I worked extremely hard in my potions class, only to be rewarded with sub-par grades because the professor expressed extreme favoritism towards his House."
There it was again, that barest quirk of his lips. "If you really knew that professor, you would know that he rewards truly exceptional work. If I remember correctly, you were mediocre – neither exceptional nor abysmal. You have no career in brewing, but if I trusted you to make a potion I would be reasonably confident that I would not spontaneously combust due to an error in your work."
"Oh, and any member of the Slytherin House are all 'exceptional'?" Sarah demanded.
"They may have a slight edge," Severus answered, face completely solemn. He sat down on the couch, crossed his legs in front of him, and watched her idly as she made herself comfortable on the other end of the sofa. She sipped her overly-sweet tea and sighed in appreciation.
"Did you have any particular reason for insulting my skills as a brewer, Professor?" Sarah inquired.
"Only that any respectable person who puts four lumps of sugar into their tea would be shite at potions." He answered crisply.
She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. She couldn't argue with that. Inwardly, she tried to wrack her brains for another topic of conversation. Abruptly, she blurted out, "Professor, how did you survive?"
There was a long moment of silence, and then Severus turned to her. "In the Shrieking Shack, you mean?" He asked softly. She nodded, not daring to look at him, unable to believe she had just asked that question. He took a sip of his tea and stared at the ugly coloured paint on the wall. "The Dark Lord sent his snake, Nagini, to attack me," Severus began quietly. "The Potter boy and his friends were there, watching. I was – bleeding rather badly." He cut himself off as he tried to stop the flow of memories which stung his eyes. Why he gave those memories to Potter was simple – he had thought he was going to die. "I was fully intent on dying, but Fawkes had other ideas," Severus continued. "Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, arrived not long later. His tears – as I'm sure you're aware, phoenix tears are incredibly rare and can heal almost any wound. Nagini's bite was no exception. I do not know who or what sent the phoenix, but I am eternally grateful to whoever did."
"Why didn't you tell the Prophet?" Sarah asked nervously, passing her tongue over her lips. "They're spinning all sorts of rumors that you have Horcruxes or something along those lines."
"Miss Gother, I did not kill to further my own being," Severus snapped instantly. "Any person that I tortured or killed was against my will and under the order of either the Dark Lord or the Headmaster. Killing helpless innocents merely to extend my life and force my existence to unnatural lengths is a cowardly move. And I, Miss Gother, am no coward. I have been called many things in my days, but I can never accurately be called a coward."
She stayed silent, finishing her tea and holding onto the last vestiges of warmth. Part of her wanted to go run a bath, to scrub off the guilt from her skin, but there was a small, flickering flame which wanted her to stay here, next to him, and soak in his words.
Whether they liked it or not, the two of them were reluctantly beginning to form a bond.
A/N: Okay, my daughter made an INCREDIBLE banner for this story. I'm really in love with it. She hasn't read the story, of course, but she likes the premise and wants to add some visual to the story. Here's the link: http:(doubleslash) sleek-otter (dot) deviantart (dot) com/art/Theoretical-Love-Banner-289670079 Take out the spaces and the put periods where the dots are. xD
ShelleySnape: Thank you. I think it will get interesting quite soon, what with the two of them practically forced to be friends. xD
Nanami Y.: Thank you very much! Its bound to be extremely awkward and embarrassing, especially since the two of them were practically strangers not so long ago. I hope I portrayed that.
TheWordMasterOfFiction: Curse you! I read your profile, and I saw that little snippet about me (thank you, by the way). But the comment "While her ideas are not exactly original, she manages to put her own spin on it" or something along those lines, THAT got my muse stuck on Twin!Harry. Mugh.
blind-saint: Here's your update! And yes, I'm sorry it was vague, but you'll get your proper, smutty, filthy smut scene in a few chapters. xD And there will be plenty of eyeballing after that. And actual romance! Wow!
ellaspell: Glad you like it! Here's the next chapter!