The February grays had set in, and everything was bleak. The snow had eroded away, and the naked trees now stuck up in the bare, frozen dirt. Students dragged themselves to classes unrecognizable to what they had been before, as training sessions for war-readiness had taken the place of academia. Professors spent more time in the dimly lit teacher's lounge, blue cigarette smoke making curls above their heads. The Order members sat in meetings with dully-stunned expressions, occasionally addressing comments to people who had recently been killed, and then falling silent when they remembered their companion had been lost.
I had taken to abusing several sleeping potions every night. It was just a matter of time. It was like the Death Eaters had a list of every member of the Order. It was frightening.
These little flaws were allowed to slide; we were living in a different time than we had even just months before. If I snuck a few bottles out of Madame Pomfrey's stores now and then, well, who could complain? One exception to the new trend towards personal dependencies was Severus. Always precocious, only he appeared normal, having already conquered his fling with alcoholism.
Still, my safe little world had collapsed. Any thought of being an outsider member of the Order had vanished. People who had only the most remote connection to the Order had been killed with the same enthusiasm as those in the thick of things. So there I sat, my name on the death roster, a desk full of confidential plans, and a brain full of secrets. I was just a damned astronomy professor, not a fighter. My courage was failing me and I can feel the fear smother any confidence I had at my talents. What a fool I was to think I could protect Hogwarts. After all, I had been a Ravenclaw, and while the Gryffindors sharpened the war axes, I was supposed to be the rational one.
Hell, who could even call me an astronomy professor now? Most of my classes had turned into around the clock surveillance shifts of students with telescopes examining the school grounds. Not that we had seen much so far except perhaps the midnight wanderings of stray cats and owl, the confused pets of war victims.
Today had not been much of an improvement over any other day of the past couple months. Woke up with a headache and a sour taste in my mouth. Read the Daily Prophet over breakfast, but did not linger morosely over my tea, as I had been wont to do recently. This was the sort of morning to walk out to the lake and survey the depressing landscape, which provided the setting for the wizarding world's fatal dramas. It was so cold that the wind snatched my breath away, chapping my lips with every hoarse breath. Crunching footsteps echoed towards me the long pathway, but I did not turn to see who approached behind.
"Ever have those days where you feel like your soul is dying?" I asked the lake blandly.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Dark, rich tones answered with another question. The voice was like spiritual coffee, filling numb spots with warmth and life, accompanied by the fragrant scents of vitality lacking from my pale existence. I knew what he wanted to talk about.
"What's the point? She wasn't much of a mother alive, so why should I mourn her death?"
"Might you mourn the death of the hope that someday she would have welcomed you back?" An ungloved hand reached for my hand, and I shoved mine deep into the coat pockets. For a moment, he looked almost hurt.
"Snape, you should go before Dumbledore finds us alone together." The bleakness in my words was apparently the last straw for him. He took hold of both my shoulders and pulled me to fully face him. Black eyes met my steely gray, and did not waver.
"Sophie, what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing, there's just no point to it. We can't. That's it." I tried to look away but he caught my chin firmly.
"You used to have passion and intensity. You used to blind me with your intelligence. Now all I see in your eyes is dull resignation." He whispered below the howl of the winds, each word taking flight and gaining momentum until it shattered icicles on my heart. "Stop the damned sleeping potions- no, don't deny it. Someone has to make them for Poppy, and you should be clever enough to figure who it is. Everyone else may overlook these things, but all of this is destroying you, Sophie."
Part of me wanted to cry, but it was buried deeply under my numbness. With a catch in my breath, I pulled my hand out of my pocket and held it out towards him. He took it gravely, and led me back to the castle, only releasing it when we were within sight of the doors. Following him out of a simple lack of will to stray, we went up to Albus' office, and Severus burst through the door.
"Headmaster, I'm taking her away for a day, and hang the consequences! Just look at her, Albus, look at her!"
Dumbledore had risen at our intrusion, but now strode purposely towards me. I watched him passively through apathetic eyes. A nod so slight moved his head that it was barely perceivable, but Severus apparently understood, because he did not become stormy at the next words.
""Of course not, Professor Snape, that's entirely out of the question and you know it. Now get out of my office and let me return to work."
Thankfully he had so covertly covered his affirmation, because meanwhile the green light of the fireplace announced a most unwelcome visitor. Minister of Magic, and recent widower, Cornelius Fudge dusted himself off at Dumbledore's hearth.
"Headmaster, I need to have a word with you about the education policy on- what is that bitch still doing here employed? I've told you on several occasions to terminate her tenure here."
Oh, I saw red.
With several quick steps, I flung my fist at his nose and took a moment's satisfaction in the crunching sound before all hell broke loose. When he recoiled, I shoved him backwards to the floor, screaming:
"My mother lies dead less than a day, and you're out on business!" I reached for the fire iron, but it vanished from my hand with a puff of purple smoke, so I hit him again with my hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Severus tried to sooth me, but he was being too gentle, and I kept breaking free of his grip on my wrist. Fighting his hold, I struggled out my wand, and pointed it at the fat, barely conscious body in the awful acid green bowler hat. Severus slapped the wand free of my hand, picked me up and threw me over his shoulder with surprising strength. I kicked at his chest, taking childish pleasure knowing he would wear bruises from interfering with me cursing my so-called father to smithereens. He nudged aside Fudge with a swift kick; hastily floo powdered me into my office, and pushed the door shut with his behind until it clicked
Taking me down off of his shoulder, I still fought him, and he pinned me against the door so that I could barely struggle. I was too enraged to question his peculiar behaviour, or the gleam in his eyes. No, my eyes were too blinded by fury to notice much anything else except where I was and where I was not. And I was no longer in the room with my wand or that man. I lifted my arm to strike Severus, to push him away, anything to get him to release me. He caught it easily, and held my hand in his, against the door. I tried with the other one, and the same results ensued. Only vaguely did I notice the spot where his ring finger should have been. Suitably disarmed, all I could do was thrash my shoulders, and try to step on his feet, or kick his shins. But he was a brick wall, deaf to my screams and unmoving to my inflictions.
"Calm down. You cannot assault that man. As much as we would all love to, he'll have us all in Azkaban before you could say the word mistrial." He did not release me, but his words broke through the red film, and my mind cleared.
I found myself squashed between Severus and the door, my hands in his, my chest rising and falling dramatically as I panted. The anger raged still, but now it was in control. He examined my face, and I watched him do it.
"Severus." I whispered, my voice throaty and deep with unspent emotion. Here was a man I could love, and not fear betrayal and abandonment. Here was a person I had fallen in love with so slowly and so completely that extricating myself would be impossible. I loved him. I loved Severus. The differences between him and the man on the floor in my chambers only drew this realization more into the light. And he loved me. Even without him saying it to me, I could see it in his eyes. His chest moved against mine, his breathing faster and deeper, his head hung down above mine.
Still panting, still sweating, still bubbling with emotion, I went up on my toes, and found his mouth. He jerked back in surprise, but after less than a second he joined me enthusiastically, his lips on mine. It was fierce, passionate, but careful and neat. I smiled against his lips, and he took the opportunity to explore my mouth, his tongue soft and warm, tasting of coffee. It was delicious. I was alive, all fires burning.
A knock on the door, less than a hand's span from where my head pressed against the wood, brought us back to reality. For a moment I sincerely hoped that neither of us had been making any noises that could have been heard through the door. He moved back, and a rush of cool air flooded between us. Releasing my hands, he took a moment and smoothed my hair from where it had become disheveled. His own black locks had been safe from me, what with my hands out of commission. When he was certain all was presentable, he stepped back out of sight, and I opened the door as composed as I had ever been.
There stood Hermione Granger, an expression of confusion was swept away as she schooled her features a moment too late.
"Can I help you Miss Granger?" She waved a black sheet, clearly a star chart.
"I was wondering if I could go over this chart with you, since I didn't get it all correct." I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Come hell or high water, if she did not get perfect, she was unhappy.
"I'm a little busy at the moment, Miss Granger, but I have that exact star chart with all the correct answers, and more importantly, the detailed explanations of why these are the correct answers, in an older text book that I don't use anymore." I turned into the office, to a bookshelf by my desk, and she followed me in. I heard her soft gasp as she found Professor Snape lounging in a chair by the opposite wall in his white shirtsleeves.
A chuckle that did not carry across the room to her, but was audible to me responded:
"Surely you did not think my teaching robes were part of my skin, did you, Miss Granger?" The voice in which he spoke was cold and crisp despite the aforementioned chuckle.
"No, Sir." She responded hastily.
"Then why are you staring at me in such an unnecessary manner?" She shook herself out of whatever shock held her, and answered again.
"I was merely surprised to see you here, Professor."
"You should not be. I have a right to meet with my colleagues without your judgment. Five points from Gryffindor." Granger looked outraged, but smothered it.
Wise girl, I thought with a twinkle. My mind had been so bleak and hopeless of late that I thought the twinkle had almost died.
I pulled the enormous book off of the shelf, and handed it to her. It was heavy, and the pure joy of book arose in her eyes at the sight of it. Oh yes, certainly something everyone in this room acknowledges.
"Try chapter thirty-six." She turned to leave, and I remembered something. "Oh, and try chapters sixty-eight through seventy-two for some golden information for your essay." She smiled, and left, closing the door behind her.
An awkward silence fell over the room. I tested my emotions. Under the school-teacherly façade I had just plastered on, I was still bubbling with rage at my father, and still utterly enchanted by kissing Severus. I could not decide which should win out, but tingled at merely feeling again.
Fortunately, Snape made the choice for me by springing out of the chair, pouncing, and guiding me back against the wall with a wicked grin.
"Now where were we?" His voice was dark and velvety. He leaned down and captured my unresisting mouth, wrapping his hands about my waist. I let my fingers curl into his shirt, slowly drifting up until they touched bare Snape-neck. He broke off the kiss with a gasp, both of our eyes flying open. "Damn it, are your fingers ever cold!"
I laughed breathily into his neck, the first laugh in weeks, and wrapped the digits back in the fabric of his shirt. He pulled me into another kiss, and the anger within me just melted away, a calm reassurance replacing it.
"I think I'm ready to go back and face that bastard," I finally sighed against his shoulder. He hugged me tightly, and warmly kissed the tip of my nose.
"Have you forgotten? Albus agreed to give us a day away, and I for one do not plan on wasting it in this damned castle waiting for Voldemort to check us off his list. Fudge can wait, because you and I have some catching up to do."