A/N- The update came a bit late last night, so here's an extra chapter to tide you guys over til next time! As some of you have noticed, I tend to update faster than my Sunday/Wednesday schedule. We're getting ready to wrap up part one of this beast, so look for hints of foreshadowing! And thank you so much for all the lovely reviews!

Alas, I use language in this chapter that can be HIGHLY offensive. But I won't apologize, as it seems rather in character for Severus to do so, especially where Bellatrix is concerned. An introspective chapter, but one that is needed to bridge our little gap from part to part.

As usual, I don't own anything besides Sara, a Kel, and a Kelsalis.

Snow

Of Gold and Steel

Chapter Thirteen

Severus stared at the paper in his hands, not really seeing the words. Sara's cries echoed in his ears, a balm to his wearied soul. How very strange that he'd never noticed it before, that curious ability of hers to arouse and soothe at the same time. It was addictive. He had no real reason to push her against the wall and take her as he had, it was truly nothing more than a lapse in resolve, giving in to what she so readily offered with each tantalizing swing of her hips. Unbidden, his eyes came to rest on the wall by the front door, the events of the morning replaying in his mind. His body reacted to the memory as a visceral thing and an unexpected jolt of longing shot through him.

The knock at the door drew his attention, jerking him from the delicious reverie and a moment later, Wormtail appeared, nosy as ever. The familiar voices ripped him firmly from the pleasant morning he'd had and back to business, life as it must be. Narcissa Malfoy and her cunt of a sister were ushered in. Severus slowly lowered the paper, folding it and setting it aside, the last of the pleasure that still coursed through his veins fading away as he rose from his seat. He'd known this was coming, knew it the instant Draco had been given the impossible task of killing Albus Dumbledore. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the dregs of his conscience made their last stand. He hated himself more than ever, in that moment.

As was always the case, startling clarity came. It did not come with the roaring of a lion. Instead, it came with the tiptoeing lightness of a lamb, but the clarity was real all the same. Narcissa Malfoy was everything a well-bred and well-married pure blood which should be. Wealthy, powerful in her own right, and devoted to her family. Try as he might, she was one of the few people Severus was unable to find fault with. And in that moment, he saw her there, glass of wine in hand as she perched in his chair, in an entirely new light. She was haggard and pale. It hadn't shown the other day in the shop, she'd been all smiles. And yet whatever glamour she'd used, whatever spells, they were forgotten today, revealing the beginnings of lines on her face, dark circles beneath her eyes, and hollow places in her cheeks where she'd begun to lose weight. She wore her grief like a shroud. In that moment, he could see Sara in her place.

It was why he'd kept her at arm's length, protected her. Severus's jaw tightened as a flash of movement drew his attention. "We mustn't touch what isn't ours, Bella. Put it down." The little figurine she held was placed back onto the mantle with a thunk and Severus reverted his attention to the conversation at hand. Sara must go home. He realized this with a sinking heart and a curious sense of impending loss.

Impossible. It couldn't be. He could not have developed feelings for his wife in a few short days. He had a lifetime of grief, two lifetimes of penance and an eternity of regret already. The last thing he needed was an attachment to the one person given to him to be protected, solely his and his alone. Severus barely heard the conversation, participating by rote as he joined his hand with Narcissa's. A vow on top of the half dozen he'd already made that put his life in jeopardy. It was a life of little value, and though useful, it was virtually worthless. When the war ended, if he survived, Lily would be avenged, the wizarding world would be free and once more, he would be alone.

He took the vow, his voice uncharacteristically soft, unable to keep the emotion from it. The grief struck him anew, a thousand bolts of lightning straight to his heart. The quickening of his pulse was the only betrayal of his state though, as the women took their leave. As soon as they were gone, Severus dropped bonelessly into his chair, his head bowing as he stared at his hands. Sara had to go home. All at once, the sense of relief that filtered through him that she would be safe was instantly tamped down. She was nothing but a burden. He repeated it to himself. A burden. A silly girl with no concept of danger, a woman bred for fantasy and untainted by the smallest understanding of death or darkness. The purity was her downfall. A burden, he told himself once more as he rose to his feet, making his way toward the stairs.

He pushed past Wormtail on the staircase, giving a solid kick to the man's back, simply because his mood had turned foul. He repeated the words beneath his breath, seeking to solidify the lie he told himself. "A burden. A silly girl with no idea what she's toying with and a distraction I do not need." Yes. Yes, that's what he would tell her. Strengthen her hatred of him. He knew she hovered on that razor's edge between love and hate. He was not loveable, and so it stood to reason that it was hatred that fueled her desire. The two were so closely intertwined.

Severus's jaw tightened as he pushed the bedroom door closed behind himself and staring around the little room that had become a haven against the forces of the outside world. He knew in that moment, his stomach turning, the knowledge of his own weakness sickening him. Severus Snape loved his wife.

He perched himself on the chair by the small desk he'd moved into his room for her to use, staring around himself. The bed was impeccably made, though the scent that was uniquely Sara lingered. The door to the wardrobe was cracked open, though he couldn't see inside, but he knew if he could, that it would be as painfully neat as it ever was. Severus turned in the chair to face the desk, drawing out a piece of parchment from a drawer and rummaging for a moment before coming up with one of the cheap plastic pens he knew she favored. It was difficult to hold, and his handwriting suffered for it, but he seemed not to notice as he began to write.

The hours passed unheeded and it wasn't until he heard the door open that he knew it was her. When he lifted his head, the light was fading, casting the room in shadow. One the desk before him sat the letter. He stared at it, the words written there cathartic, though now that he was faced with the soft footsteps of his Kelsalis entering the room, his courage faltered. He tightened his jaw as he folded the parchment and capped the pen once more, slipping it into the drawer.

He slipped the pages into an envelope and sealed it securely as she interrupted the silence that he usually found such comfort in. Now though, the silence was something that mocked him. "Severus? Are you all right?" There was a note of concern in her voice as she moved to the wardrobe to put away her bag. He turned in the chair, rising to his feet as he studied her.

She was rumpled and windblown, her cheeks red from having forgotten a scarf, and slightly damp from the rain. Severus did not answer but merely stared, watching her in silence. She pushed her coat off, clad once more in those ridiculous muggle clothes that didn't flatter her slender form in the least.

Severus steeled himself against the guilt that niggled at him, schooling his face into an expression of careful neutrality as he broke the stillness of the room, gesturing toward the wardrobe. "Pack your things, Madam."

Sara's brow knit together in a frown, stammering out the words. "Wh.. what? Why?"

The hurt reflected in those pretty blue eyes struck him to his core and he injected a layer of ice into his voice that would stop a hippogriff in its tracks. "Do not question me, Kelsalis. Pack your things. You will travel by Portkey in half an hour." She reacted as if he'd physically struck her. Her anger burgeoned in his own chest, a strange sense of loss pervading him as keenly as if it had been her own. Severus clenched his jaw for a moment, the severity of his actions striking him anew as he stared at her. He quoted the words as perfectly as if he meant them, and when they hit home, he knew she believed each and every one of the cruel syllables. "You are not pleasing to me, Madam. You continue to dress in those hideous clothes, you neglect my home in favor of gallivanting all over the city in pursuit of your own pleasures, and your inexperience in matters of bed sport is simply unacceptable."

She took a step back, her cheeks reddening. He could feel her anger mounting, rolling through his own belly. He pressed onward, though, doing his best to keep his voice cold despite the horror of what he did. "You are altogether a poor excuse for a wife, Madam and you are a burden I will not bear any further this summer. Pack your things, Mrs. Snape. I will be back in half an hour with the Portkey."

Severus stepped around her, glancing back as she sank to her knees on the floor. To her credit, she did not sob, though his own eyes stung, his vision blurring. He tucked the envelope into the front pocket of her backpack and continued his journey to the door. She would not forgive him. He would not forgive himself though, if he hadn't done what needed to be done.

Half an hour later, he placed the Portkey on the bedside table quietly, speaking not another word as he turned to go. As he had commanded of her, her obedient nature for once biting him in the ass, he heard the Portkey activate from his place outside the bedroom door. He was grateful in the moment, for the solid wood between them that stopped him from doing something stupid. His own words rang in his ears, the unbelievable cruelty of what he'd just done. When the silence came once more, he drew in a breath to steady himself and pushed the door open.

He found himself alone in the room, the wardrobe open and empty, her desk barren, and once more the familiar cold stillness settled over the little house on Spinner's End.