Author Note: Thanks again to Wendy Waddles for being kind enough to beta-read for me. Very much appreciated! Thanks to Errorofways7, Holly, and Wendy Waddles for your reviews. I'm glad the revelation of who Tamara's father is came as a surprise. Thanks also to Queensgambit, MszMaNgOz, Patrialevet for adding my little story to your alert lists. I am humbled!

Hope you enjoy this chapter and the next will be up on Friday the 1st of October. Happy reading!

Chapter 25 – Stained

~ Am I kin to Sorrow,
That so oft
Falls the knocker of my door -
Neither loud nor soft,
But as long accustomed,
Under Sorrow's hand?
Marigolds around the step
And rosemary stand,
And then comes Sorrow -
And what does Sorrow care
For the rosemary
Or the marigolds there?
Am I kin to Sorrow?
Are we kin? ~

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

Voldemort kept the death eaters with him for a long time that night. For Snape it was torturous. He, along with the other death eaters, had only discovered that Voldemort was Tamara's biological father when Adelaide had approached and declared it. It had taken all of his strength to retain his emotionless expression. His surprise had been two-fold, though. He had not known that Adelaide had become a death eater, either, and wondered what Voldemort had done to convince her to join his ranks. Snape was not, by any means, the only death eater who had been given the task of training the new recruits. Voldemort had never taken the risk of allowing any single death eater to know all of his secrets, or the identities of all of the other death eaters. Voldemort didn't trust any of his minions entirely and wasn't one to risk betrayal.

The very idea that Voldemort had been the one to sire Tamara was a thought that Snape found difficult to come to terms with. Despite his forced and unwilling allegiance, he hated the Dark Lord and the thought that the woman he loved actually shared blood with him was agonizing. Despite his turbulence of emotions, though, he couldn't help but stare at her. What he saw was a face etched with revulsion and horror, and then Voldemort had offered her his memory. Snape could see that Tamara was plainly torn over this. She didn't want to see what terrible things Voldemort had injected into her past and yet her need to know the family history that she had been devoid of proved to be stronger. With trepidation, she had walked forward to finally see the truth.

None of the death eaters had been able to see what Tamara had seen in the pensieve, but it was clear from her reaction afterward that it had been nothing short of horrific. Anger began to smoulder in the pit of Snape's stomach at the thought of what Voldemort could have done, and how much that action had hurt her. In that instant, knowing that he felt such anger and hatred toward the wizard that had hurt her so much, he knew he couldn't and wouldn't allow this new revelation to pollute his feelings for her. He loved her and that was all that mattered. Perhaps he could even help her to deal with it. After all, he had been irrevocably stained by the Dark Lord as well. Not in a biological sense, but by the dark mark. So long as Voldemort lived, Snape would always be tainted and would always bound by the mark.

It was at that moment, however, that Snape heard a familiar voice beside him. It was startling, because the voice didn't appear to belong to any visible body and after a moment he realised that it was Dumbledore. The old man sounded as wise and comforting as he always had. "Stained, my boy?" Dumbledore remarked. "Only if you choose to think so. The fact of the matter is that Voldemort is an exceptionally talented and powerful wizard. It was his choice, and his choice alone, to use that talent for evil, just as it is Tamara's choice to use it for good. She doesn't have to be tarnished by the same brush as Voldemort and perhaps if she were to be reminded of this it might help her come to terms with what has happened." At that, Dumbledore's disembodied voice fell silent and the words resounded in Snape's mind for a long time as began to suspect that they were not only intended for Tamara but perhaps for himself as well, and he felt his strength renewed ten-fold for having such a poignant reminder.

Nonetheless, the remainder of the Death Eater's meeting with Voldemort was arduous, and every minute seemed to stretch for an age. Snape yearned to go after Tamara. She was devastated thanks to Voldemort, and she had been left to deal with it alone. Snape needed to be with her, to comfort her, and every breath he drew that kept him away from her gave him more pain than he could bear.

At long last the meeting came to a close and on Voldemort's command, the Death Eaters began to disapparate. Snape, however, remained behind, his mind in a flurry of thoughts. The one thing that still bothered him about this latest revelation was how Tamara would cope with it, and how much she would need his support. This was frustrating, because his current assignment meant that it would be difficult to really be there for her very much. He had, however, been mulling an alternative over in his fast working mind, but it would very much depend on Voldemort's favour, and not many Death Eaters were brave enough to risk making suggestions to their Lord if they could help it. Snape was about to make such a suggestion now, and he fervently hoped that his good standing with Voldemort would gained him a favourable response.

With a heaviness weighing on his shoulders, and disgust for the wizard he served etched into his heart if not his face, he approached Voldemort and knelt before him.

"Rise, Severus, and speak." Voldemort commanded, his voice mirthless and unimpressed.

"Thank you, my Lord." Snape replied, rising to his feet once more. "If I may be so bold, I believe it may be of value if I were to be given permission to approach your daughter. She has attended my classes for six years which has afforded me the benefit of coming to know her personality. I know her to have tendency to be rather impetuous at times," Snape chose the word carefully. He knew Tamara to be fiery and passionate, but it seemed more appropriate to choose different wording when discussing her with the Dark Lord. "Given that she is familiar with me as an associate and long-term teacher, I might be in a position to coax her toward a better understanding of our principles, my Lord." He explained, hoping that Voldemort wouldn't simply crucio him on the spot for speaking impertinently.

"You speak highly of yourself." Voldemort replied, with an emotionless laugh.

"Forgive me. I meant only that I have a prior association with her, thanks to my position at Hogwarts, and that it may be of use to you."

Voldemort considered his words, the light in his red eyes reflecting eerily on his surroundings. "I am confident that her natural curiosity concerning her biological identity will drive her back to me eventually, but I admit I see the value in what you suggest. I think that a little extra insurance will benefit me greatly indeed. You have proven yourself to be both loyal and useful these past years, Severus. You have my permission to go to her." At that, Voldemort paused and drew out his wand. Pointing it at Snape's heart, he went on. "Know this. If you fail me, it will not be worth your life. You have been warned. Now go."

With that, Snape nodded respectfully and disapparated, relieved that he had actually been given permission to spend more time with Tamara.

When Tamara had fled the woodland scene she'd had a moment of panic, realising that she had no idea where she was or whether she was even in London anymore. She ran past the large building that housed the containment cells and found a further expanse of trees. She sobbed at the thought that not only was she alone and hurting, but that she was also completely lost. But something was sparkling between the trees now, and she felt strangely compelled to find out what it was. And so, she found herself heading towards the trees.

Emerging through the trees, she came face to face with what appeared to be a portal. It was mirror-like and its surface shimmered, ripples blowing across it in the wind. As she leaned in for a closer look, she realised that she could see what looked like the corridors of Gringotts on the other side. It seemed that not only had Voldemort let her go, but that he had also provided her with the means to return home, though she didn't stop to consider what this meant. Hoping that the portal would indeed transport her back to Gringotts, she took a deep breath and threw herself through the shimmering silvery surface.

To her relief, there seemed to be nothing sinister about the portal and she found herself back in the familiar corridors of Gringotts. The portal disappeared as soon as she had stepped through, and she began to hurry through the corridors. As she turned a corner, she came face to face with one of the death eaters that she recognised from the woodland gathering. To her surprise, he stood back and pointed toward one of the many turns. Not stopping to fathom this second strange occurrence, she simply ran in the direction indicated and soon found herself tumbling back through the barrier into Diagon Alley.

When she finally arrived home, the apartment was empty as Elizabeth had not yet returned from the night shift. Tamara, faced with nothing to occupy her thoughts now that the return journey was over, found a fresh bout of tears streaming down her face and felt her body begin to shiver with a strange sense of emptiness.

If Elizabeth had been one to keep bottles of alcohol in the house, she almost certainly would have begun to devour her cousin's stores. As Elizabeth did not, which was perhaps fortunate for Tamara, she settled for a cup of tea instead. But as soon as Tamara had raised the steaming mug with a shaky hand to take a sip, she had put the mug down again and bolted toward the bathroom. Throwing herself down onto the cold tiled floor, she bent her head over the toilet bowl and vomited. After her stomach had emptied itself of its contents, she simply flopped against the bathroom room wall like a puppet with no strings.

Eventually, Tamara finally summoned the strength to pull herself to her feet and stumbled awkwardly toward the shower. Turning the cold tap on, she stepped beneath the icy jet of water... clothes, shoes and all.

Snape appeared in the apartment, apparating with a 'pop'. It seemed empty, except for an abandoned cup of tea on the kitchen bench and the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Cautiously, he made his way down the rear corridors of the apartment and found that the bathroom door had been left open. Tamara was standing fully clothed beneath the shower jet and didn't appear to notice him, though he wasted no time in walking toward the shower and pulled back the shower curtain.

Tamara gasped as she finally laid eyes on him. Relief seemed to light her whole face to find him standing there, as she tried desperately to convince herself that it was not a dream. Snape stepped straight into the shower with her and remained fully clothed as well, not wanting to waste another moment. He pulled her toward him and wrapped his arms around her, tightly, as the cold water began to seep into his long black robes and started to weigh them down. It did not matter. All that mattered was that they were together and that she was safely in his embrace.

After a moment, he carefully reached for the tap and gently turned on the hot water just enough to keep them both warm. Tamara pressed herself as tightly to Snape as she could, clinging to his sodden robes as though she were a child who had just found a long absent favourite toy. He held her just as tightly, and they stood like that beneath the pouring water until long after Tamara's tears had finally subsided.

It was Tamara who eventually moved to turn off the shower and for a moment they regarded each other in their thoroughly soaked clothes. Snape suddenly became all too aware that her blouse had become enticingly transparent in the water, but immediately cursed himself. This was not the moment for such thoughts. Tamara seemed to realise that he had noticed, and though a soft hint of pink began to creep over her cheeks she made no move to cover herself. Modesty was the last thing on her mind after all that had happened that night.

She stepped out of the shower, took some towels out of the cupboard, and began to unbutton her blouse. Since it was already transparent enough to reveal what lay beneath it, she saw no sense in trying to hide her body now and she remarked to herself that it even felt liberating to be so open with her nakedness, as she dropped her blouse on the floor and stepped out of her jeans.

Snape let out an audible gasp as he watched Tamara unabashedly undress before him. Her skin was smooth with hints of an olive tinge. Her long brown hair fell in matted waves over her shoulders and her breasts were perky and supple. Doing his utmost to curb his thoughts and retain a cool and appropriate manner, he stepped toward her. Reaching for one of the towels she had taken out of the cupboard, he draped it over her shoulders and wrapped it around her.

She gazed up at him, seeming to wait for him to act and it took a moment for him to realise that it was now his turn to undress. After all, he couldn't stay in his heavy, soaking robes. Unexpectedly nervous, he began to fumble with his buttons. Tamara gently reached forward to help and when all of the buttons were undone, she slid the wet garment from his shoulders to reveal a slender but toned torso. She ran her hands over his chest, delighting in the smattering of chest hair that she found there but after a moment she paused, seeming to understand his modesty when it came to revealing any more of himself.

"I'll be in the bedroom. You know where the towels are." She whispered, though thanks to her sobbing, her voice was rough. He nodded in response, offering a small smile in appreciation.

Once in her room, Tamara patted herself dry and exchanged the towel for a simple but elegant black bra and knickers and settled herself on the bed. When Snape joined her a moment later, he was clad in nothing more than the towel he had wrapped about his waist, as there had been nothing for him to change into. He appeared to be content, though he was momentarily overcome with breathlessness when he saw that she had chosen to wear an attractive set of underwear instead of her usual pyjamas. He placed his wand on the bedside table and settled himself beside her on the bed, taking care not dislodge his towel, and pulled her into his arms again, gently kissing her forehead as she snuggled into the embrace.

They lay in silence like that for a time, his hands gently stroking the soft skin on her back until he inadvertently found the wound she had received when she had tried to go through the force-field protecting the entrance to Diagon Alley. Tamara flinched in his arms and grimaced. Snape leaned forward to glance over her shoulder and came face to face with a gaping burn that was now seeping clear fluid.

"I can heal that for you." He told her.

Tamara shook her head. "Not yet." She said, quietly. "I want to stay in your arms just a little while longer."

"I really think I should take a look at it. You don't want it to get infected. It won't take long and I'm not going anywhere." He tried to reason with her.

"Won't they miss you?" She asked, pointedly.

"Not this time. The Dark Lord has given me a new assignment. You."

"Me? What do you mean?"

"I am to protect you, and I am to gain your trust."

"My trust? I am not going back there, if that's what you mean!" She exclaimed, tears glistening in her eyes again."

"Ssh my love. You need not concern yourself with it yet. Concentrate on how much time we will be able to spend together now."

"I suppose so." With that she fell silent and allowed herself to be turned onto her stomach so that he could inspect the wound on her back properly.

After a moment, he reached for his wand and began to trace the edges of the burn, muttering under his breath in Latin. He repeated this action for several painstaking minutes until finally he told her that she could turn over again.

"It will continue to heal throughout the night. I will make a tincture for it in the morning. Do you have any other injuries?"

"Only my arm, but it's not so bad." She replied, holding her arm out for him to see. He held her arm up in front of him, gently, as he took a closer look and drew his wand across the graze as he had done before. This one didn't take as long to heal, as the graze was only a superficial scratch, and before long Snape had put his wand away again and was once more drawing her into a tight embrace.

For a moment a look flashed across Tamara's eyes, but it disappeared just as quickly. It seemed almost as though she yearned to ask something, but when she didn't he chose not to push her and contented himself with stroking her drying hair. After a moment of gazing deeply into her eyes, she suddenly blurted out what she had been longing to know.

"Did you know about this?" She asked, flatly.

"No, I did not." He answered her honestly, even though her bluntness took him aback. "I suspect that only Miss McKenzie had any idea of the truth. The other Death Eaters were as surprised as I was to learn about your connection to him." He explained, trying to steer clear of specifically mentioning her biological relationship to the Dark Lord. "I wish I could have come to you sooner. It was agony waiting for that meeting to end. If I had been able to choose, I would have been at your side in an instant. I want you to know that." He said, earnestly, holding her hand tightly in his.

"I understand." She said, her voice barely a whisper as she suddenly began to feel very small. "Is this why I could get into Diagon Alley so easily the first time?" She asked.

"I believe so." He responded, quietly.

"How come it was different this time? The force-field gave me that burn on my back. If I didn't have my shield, anything could have happened!" She exclaimed, both indignant and confused.

"I cannot be certain. The Dark Lord has been displeased with the behaviour of some of the Death Eaters of late and I suspect that he is less than willing to risk that particular project becoming accessible to the imbeciles. In any case, security has been tightened in almost every area. This means that I am in a fortunate position with the Dark Lord, though, since he trusts me to protect you."

Silence fell over the room as Tamara digested this new revelation. Snape wanted to ask what she had seen in the pensieve, but the expression on her face before she had fled told him that it was a delicate subject and that perhaps it would be better left for her to talk about in her own time.

When Tamara spoke once more, she changed the topic. "Dumbledore made a big mistake." She suddenly realised.

"I'm not sure I follow." He responded with surprise.

"He cast a concealment charm over Elizabeth so he wouldn't be able to find her, but it was designed so that only blood relatives would be able to locate her. If he is my biological father, then wouldn't that mean..." Her words trailed off, and she felt a pang of shame that for the first time she hadn't been able to say Voldemort's name.

Snape considered this for a moment. "The Dark Lord isn't related to Elizabeth by blood. It's possible that he may have been excluded from those the charm allows to trace her."

"It's possible, perhaps, but I don't want to wait to find out!" She exclaimed, worried for her cousin. She didn't want to lose the last true family member that she had.

"Then we will perform the fidelius charm in the morning. Did Professor Flitwick ever discuss it in Charms class?"

"He mentioned it once. I read about it properly for an essay, though. It's the magical concealment of a secret within a person, isn't it? We just need to decide which of us it will be."

"Elizabeth will be safe until morning. I think for now you should concentrate on getting some rest." He told her, his velvety voice wonderfully soothing. She nodded, knowing that it would be better to think of such things with a clearer head after a good night's sleep. "As you fall asleep tonight, take this thought with you; you may have inherited the Dark Lord's magical talent and skill, but where he chooses to use it for evil, you are still free to use it for good. That choice is in your hands." He told her, echoing the words that Dumbledore had told him earlier that night. She smiled; the first true smile he had seen all night. It was a gift to him to see it.

"Will you still be here when I wake up?" She asked, gazing at him sincerely.

"I promise, Tamara." He told her, kissing her on the forehead before extracting himself from the bed so that he could turn down the dimmer switch to soften the lights. Snape forgot about the towel that had been delicately balanced around his waist and as he got up it promptly dropped to the floor. His breath caught sharply in his throat at the shock of being disrobed so suddenly. Nonetheless, he left the towel where it was as he crossed the room to turn the lights down to a soft glow.

Tamara watched him with fascination; from his raven black hair that sat just above the shoulders, to his bare back and his bared and firm buttocks. It was an incredibly suggestive image. As he turned back toward the bed, he stopped to reach for the towel. Without quite knowing why she did it, Tamara reached forward to grab his hand, stopping him before he could take hold of the towel. He took another sharp breath as his heart started to pound in his chest, feeling keenly erotic at the thought that his nakedness was so utterly exposed to her.

He slowly rejoined Tamara on the bed and pulled the covers over them both. She curled a leg around his hips, drawing him closer as he snaked his arms around her. It was utterly thrilling to feel himself pressed against her in such a manner, and he wondered how on earth he had contained himself from being so close to her before.

"You are beautiful." He whispered, gently nibbling her ear. Tamara felt a wave of electric shivers wash over her at the simple gesture. Thank goodness for Severus, she thought to herself as the oblivion of his closeness, and finally sleep, washed over her.