Chapter 35: A Hope and a Future
The next morning, Marian awoke a little before he did, but didn't disturb him. He had rolled onto his back during the night, and she had followed him, with one arm flung dangerously low across his stomach, and her body nestled beneath his sinewy arm. When she glanced around her, she saw that her puppy had curled up and was sleeping between Severus' shoulder and cheek on his good side, and that the exhausted wizard seemed to be leaning into the furriness a little bit. The sight was ridiculously cute. If only his former students and fellow Death Eaters could see him now, she thought with amusement. As humorous as Marian found that thought, she was still terribly pleased that she was the only one to have seen him like this—the only one to sleep in his arms.
Marian finally rose, after giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Ms. Bear cocked open one eye, but the lazy puppy decided that she was quite comfortable where she was, and quickly dozed off again. When she returned with breakfast a while later, she met the unexpected sight of Severus sitting up unassisted, and gingerly stroking the soft fur of the little dog that was frisking about, rolling onto its back and kicking out all four feet, while making playful squeaking noises.
When she came into the room, he quickly pretended to be ignoring the dog and began attempting to swing his legs off the side of the bed. Marian saw how much even this effort exhausted him, and so she quickly transfigured a Muggle walker and placed it across from him. "What is this…contraption?" he asked irritably.
"A Muggle device. Just something that you can pull up on—to help you stabilize yourself….It's a bit like that cane your uppity friend, Malfoy, carries around, only this offers a bit more support, and will only be temporary, thank goodness," Marian answered, all business. She knew good and well that there was no way he could stand unassisted, and she thought that this would help him be a bit more independent.
He reached for it, but she stopped him by plucking on his sleeve and said, "Wait a moment. I don't suppose you should put any weight on your right arm. You might reopen something. Let me help you a little."
He nodded stiffly, and braced himself for the exertion. It was a disaster. Even with her assistance, his weakened body trembled violently with the effort; but he refused to give up, no matter how many times he sank back onto the bed. She could tell that he was growing furious with himself; and she worried that he would end up on the floor if he wasn't careful. He was no longer behaving sensibly in his attempts. Now he had something to prove. Marian was surprised when he finally managed to hold himself erect, although he was frighteningly pale and looked as though he might faint. But there was something so grim and determined in his features that she suspected that, if she let him, he would continue far past what was physically safe for him to do, fueled by stubbornness and will alone. "Would you like to sit outside again?" she asked hesitantly, wanting to keep him from venturing too far.
He nodded sharply, not wanting to speak and give away how breathless he was. She quickly moved the chair back to the porch and walked—or rather stumbled-with him through the doors, grasping him around the waist so that some of his weight landed on her rather than his mangled right shoulder. Once he was safely seated, he valiantly tried to hold himself straight and to keep from showing exactly how difficult that short walk had been.
Marian wasn't sure what she could say that wouldn't be patronizing, so she refrained and served him his breakfast, hoping to distract him by chatting and pointing out some landmarks around her home. The ruse succeeded, and he gradually lost his angry expression, which she intuited was motivated by self-loathing.
Marian determined that he not walk anymore that day, and so she left the room and returned with her grandmother's wheelchair. She suspected that he would react to this plan marginally better than to her back-up, which was simply to levitate him into the bathroom like a piece of furniture. The moment she rolled the chair into his line of sight, however, his lip curled into a nasty sneer.
But before he could begin to castigate her, she forestalled him, exclaiming guiltily, "Severus, I'm such an idiot! If any real healer heard about what I put you through today, I'd probably find myself facing charges. What was I thinking—allowing a critically injured man that had just spent over a month on his back to immediately jump up and walk? I just feel so stupid!"
He looked as though he wanted to speak, but she cut him off again, saying, "You're proud and independent, Severus, with a will of iron. But you will only hurt yourself more if we continue at this pace. Right now, your muscles have atrophied and you're still hypovolemic. I think we need a new game plan. Even sitting up straight is going to be exhausting for you at first. But we can start there. You could sit up a little each day, until we're finally up to several hours a day. This wheelchair would enable you to go around the whole house and even outside, if you'd like.
"Once your body has replenished more of its blood, and your stamina has gradually improved, we can begin transferring from the bed to the wheelchair and back. And finally walking short distances—to the toilet and such. Soon your wounds will have healed enough to begin doing strengthening exercises for your right shoulder…."
"Very well, mistress. It's obvious that my opinion hardly matters anyway," Severus said acerbically, his burning black eyes sweeping over the landscape, instead of her.
She approached him, tightening the belt on her buttery, rose-colored robe before sinking into the chair at his side. "That isn't true. I won't do anything to you against your will. Ever. But it really frightens me to see you hurting yourself. And so I'm asking for you to spare me that," she finished in a small voice.
He laughed lightly, bitterly, "You're good. You really are. And if you could manufacture a few tears, you'd really have me going."
Marian blanched with dismay and Severus knew at once that he had succeeded in hurting her. "Is that what it will take, Severus?" she asked in a quiet, controlled voice.
Instantly, he closed off. He didn't apologize; he didn't do anything. His face was a mask. But Marian had gotten better at reading him, and she sensed his distress. He was hopelessly frustrated at himself and his situation, but hadn't meant to upset her. She sighed, and he glanced up, startled, as the recliner began to expand. Once it was a little bit wider, she slipped in beside him and cuddled up, wordlessly summoning the airy down comforter from the bedroom and reclining the chair as far back as it would go. There had been rain the night before, so the air was slightly chillier than was usual in late summer. She felt Severus shiver beside her.
She could tell that he was tense, but was relaxing more every moment. Marian had no desire for a stressful discussion. That was the last thing he needed, and so there was no cause for the conversation to proceed further. She already knew that he was exhausted and lashing out at her because of how disappointed he was in himself. And so instead of forcing him to apologize, either by arguments or the silent treatment, she simply placed her head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his wasted form. Gradually, they both drifted off to sleep.
The midday-sun woke them both almost simultaneously, and Marian felt much refreshed. She hoped that Severus did as well. She intended his bath to be a relaxing time, rather than another physical test. He made no sign when she rose and locked the wheelchair into place beside him. "Are you ready to bathe?" she asked kindly.
For a moment, she could see hesitation in those dark, sleep-softened eyes, but it vanished almost instantly. "Lead on," he responded, in his usual urbane, unruffled tones.
Once they arrived in the bathroom, Marian turned on the tap, before changing the water an opaque, cloudy color with a spell. He glanced up at her and quirked an eyebrow. "That's not how it's done," he murmured, eying her handiwork with a mixture of disdain and amusement.
"Show me, then! I mean…tell me the incantation," Marian amended, blushing faintly. She had tried to master the water opalescence spell. Now she was wishing that she had tried a great deal harder.
"You couldn't work it out for yourself? My, my…I confess myself disappointed. You were said to be such a clever little witch," he mocked in his purring, cultured voice. Amusement gleamed in his predatory eyes.
"Well, I've been rather busy lately, breaking notorious wizards out of Azkaban…that sort of thing," she retorted pertly.
His lips curled into a sinful smirk at her words, but he suddenly paused, and Marian could see him concentrating. "Stop that," she admonished, "I know what you're doing, but you'll only wear yourself out if you try to do spells."
But she should have known better. Moments later the water lapped against the side of the tub in surging cascades of sparkles. He must have mentally reworked the spell to make it wandless. She was impressed in spite of herself, but unsurprised when he slumped bonelessly in his chair. "You insufferable man," she purred reprovingly, ruffling his oily strands lightly with her fingertips.
He sat up a bit straighter when he felt her reach around his neck to untie his hospital-gown or 'shirt' as they both euphemistically referred to it. Suddenly, his hands were covering hers, restraining her. "Is something wrong?" she asked anxiously.
"No," he replied quickly, slightly breathless.
She leaned forward and pressed her soft cheek to his slightly roughened one. "How would you like us to proceed?" she inquired, in a voice that was tinged with humor.
"I suppose that you may do as you did before when you had your way with me," he answered drily.
His words reminded her of the time she had undressed and joined him in the water, and she blushed involuntarily. Luckily, she was still standing behind him, so he couldn't view her expression. If he had caught sight of her flushed face, there was no telling what conclusion he would have drawn. Marian gently pinched his earlobe in response to his baiting.
"But I can see that you're intent on expanding your repertoire. Unless…surely you don't go about pinching unconscious men," Severus replied prissily, as though that possibility were too scandalous to be believed.
She rolled her eyes in mock frustration and muttered, "Well, I guess you'll never know."
Before he could reply, Marian carefully levitated him, shirtless, and then levitated a towel to wrap about him, as she magically removed his shorts. Very delicately she set him down in the water. "How's the temperature?"
"Tolerable," he responded tersely, judiciously removing the sopping towel from his person and placing it on the side of the tub with a loud plop.
Marian noticed that his playful mood had faded in an instant, to be replaced with edgy insecurity. She knew that he was sensitive about his hair. It had hardly escaped her attention that every time she had touched it he had reflexively tensed. But the truth was that this habit had diminished of late, and now, even when he did flinch, his discomfort was instantly chased away by obvious pleasure. And in spite of everything, touching his hair still felt less invasive than washing his body, so she decided to start with that, and reached for the shampoo. She knelt on the tile behind him and began tenderly to lather the crown of his head, massaging his scalp thoroughly, and filling the air with a spicy, soothing aroma. As her fingers stroked through the slippery strands, he seemed to be relaxing, and so she decided to ask him something that she had been burning with curiosity to know.
"Severus, what do you want out of life? I mean…what do you dream about doing? ...What's your ideal life? Now that you're not a wanted man, what do you intend to do once you're healed?" she asked pensively.
He tensed and responded pedantically, "Each time you rephrase your question, you wind up asking a different one…and none of them have simple answers, except perhaps the last."
"Oh, pick one, then!" she replied in exasperation, as she began to pour glassfuls of the shimmering water over his hair.
But he merely replied obstinately, "Well, I could ask the same of you."
She decided not to press him further, wisely realizing that it was difficult enough for such a private man to bare his body to her. No wonder he didn't wish to expose his soul and his secrets as well. She began to wash his back and shoulders, lathering them with a washrag in smooth, firm motions. He sighed softly at her touch. "Tell me," he murmured irreverently, after a long pause where he simply enjoyed her ministrations, "Is there more outrageous risk-taking in your future? Do you plan to fight in any more foreign wars, or trouble yourself over dragons' hoards?"
"When you phrase it like that, you make me sound downright reckless," Marian responded conversationally, before transfiguring her attire into a black one-piece bathing suit and stepping cautiously down into the tub, much to Severus' apprehension…and appreciation.
His eyes flit back and forth, unconsciously gauging the distance between himself and the witch. He sniffed at her answer and replied acidly, "That was my intention precisely."
She handed him a washcloth that she had lathered with soap and eyed him meaningfully, before turning away and pretending to busy herself with organizing the hair products in order to give him some privacy.
Once all noise of moving water had ceased, she turned around, producing another rag. As she meticulously washed his legs, her fingers brushing sensuously through their mazes of dark hairs that waved weightlessly in the water, she began to speak thoughtfully, "I'm not sure what the future holds. If nothing life-altering happens, I suppose that I'll continue to work freelance as a curse-breaker. I'll travel…invent spells. I'll keep this house, and maybe the one in England."
She gave a peculiar laugh and added, "With no one to depend on you, there's a dreadful kind of independence. So perhaps I will take a few risks—for a worthy cause, of course."
Severus eyed her with a quiet intensity as she soaped up his chest and arms, making an effort to work around his injuries, even though there was no need to be so cautious, as they were protected by spells. She carefully examined his wounds, her fingers ghosting from puncture to puncture.
"Three years ago, you said a similar thing to me, but so much has changed since then...You do not sound particularly delighted with your plan. Is this not what you want?" he asked quizzically, and tried to ignore her lovely figure, so close to his, although he was rather relieved and horrified that his body wasn't reacting to her-not even the faintest stirring. Clearly, he must be more weak and anemic than he had imagined.
"No….I mean, I do enjoy this life. It's a very happy, interesting, and satisfying one….It's just that now I know there's something greater to be had, and I can't help but want it," she answered, studiously not looking at his face as she lifted his right arm to sponge beneath it.
He winced and asked, "Children?"
In surprise, she shot him a quick, assessing glance. "No, I've never really desired them….I suppose you'll think me an 'unnatural woman'," she answered with a trace of cynicism.
"Hardly," he replied, and the one clipped word spoken in his educated, rational voice reassured her more than a whole speech would have done.
But she felt the need to explain herself, to seek his good opinion. Sighing, she confessed in a rush, "It's more that I've never really thought about it. I suppose my biological clock should be about ready to explode by now, but perhaps something's wrong with me, because I don't feel it at all….I don't actively desire children, and I don't think I ever will, to be honest. Although if I were married and the man I loved wanted them, I would have them happily, and I would love them extravagantly…I know I would, if my feelings for Ms. Bear are anything to go by. If we didn't intend to have children, but I became pregnant anyway, the same thing would apply."
After listening to her intently, he responded oddly, "And so if a man didn't wish for children, or was unable to have them…that wouldn't be a deal-breaker for you?"
She threw back her head and laughed, and he noticed that the steam from the tub was causing her hair to curl delicately around her temples. "Of course not!" she scoffed, and continued spiritedly, "In fact, it would suit me perfectly...There are very few deal-breakers for me, besides lack of character. No, Severus, if I married a man, it would be for his own sake—not for any kind of benefit….And I would never leave him."
She looked a bit embarrassed after her impassioned words, hoping that he wouldn't see through her, because she was all too aware of her own transparency. Marian was wishing desperately that she hadn't brought up the subject.
"So you allow for the possibility of marriage—is that the 'life-altering' event you spoke of? How would it affect your plans? Would you continue to be a soldier-of-fortune?" he asked a little too quickly, in a tone that was part teasing, part wistful.
"You're making fun of me," she murmured reproachfully, as she trailed her soapy fingers across his chest, inadvertently making him tremble.
"Never," he breathed, in a sardonic whisper.
"Well, yes. I think that you'd agree with me that marriage is rather 'life-altering'," she replied defensively.
When she saw lively curiosity rather than mockery in his eyes, she continued a bit more confidently. "To answer your question, I suppose I wouldn't do anything particularly reckless. When you're married, you become one with another person. You're not living only for yourself anymore. I think that's really the wonder and the infuriation of marriage. But in any case, a life with the right man would be…extraordinary. Everything would be better."
"Are you sure you would recognize this 'right man'?" he asked flippantly, although he eagerly awaited her reply.
Marian stilled for a moment and looked him in the eye. "Of course," she all but whispered.
This was the moment when he should have spoken up, should have asked whether he was that man, but Severus dreaded her denial and lost his nerve. He cursed himself for his lapse afterwards, and was reminded of the story Marian had read to him a few weeks before, about the knight, Percival, who had seen the Grail procession, but had earlier been warned against talking too much, and so had remained silent, neglecting to ask the question that would have set everything right.
Instead, he cleared his throat and entreated softly, "Tell me what it would it be like."
Growing caught up in her dreams; Marian forgot for a moment that this wizard was off-limits while he was injured. She thought only of her love for him, and how remarkable life would be if they could share it. Her emotion spilled into her speech, pulling him out of his dejection, and making his heart thrill with longing for her and the things she described. "Severus, it could be so good. We would just...be together, enjoying and discovering each other. Think about how our lives would be enriched by having someone to trust, confide in...share dreams and ideas. We would respect and take care of one another.
"We would be co-conspirators, having so much fun together. If we wanted, we could travel the world, exploring and having adventures. But it would be unnecessary. My fulfillment would come from being close to him, and I would find my happiness wherever we were together. I would value a quiet life with this man over all the empires and treasure on earth.
"I would work for his happiness, achieving whatever I could in order to heap it all up and lay it at his feet. I wouldn't want to undertake anything without his blessing-no triumph would hold any meaning without it.
"To live life with someone that you could cherish and rely on, who would protect your interests no matter what…I can't think of anything more wonderful than that. Everything would be enhanced by that sort of camaraderie and support. Who knows? I might finally be inspired to turn my hand to writing the fantasy book I've always dreamed about.
"The thing about real love is that it transforms everything it touches, even the most mundane parts of life….You don't have to say it. I can see your lip curling as I speak, and you think that I'm a ridiculous romantic idealist, who ought to know better at my age. But the thing is, even though I'm content with my life now, I understand that there's something higher—something greater…And I want it," she practically purred.
Marian's cheeks were flushed with enthusiasm as she confided in him, and she slowly rinsed the vestiges of soap, sponging around his body in great detail. He felt an ache in his heart as he watched her, and instead of responding with derision, answered with a non sequitur, which dragged sinfully over his tongue, "You didn't mention love-making."
"That was remiss of me...Well, it goes without saying that it would be powerful, transcendent, exquisitely pleasurable. It would get even better over time, because my man-the one I marry-is special...ageless, fascinating...unequivocal. And I'll love him with my whole soul. 'Other men cloy the appetites they feed, but he makes hungry where most he satisfies'," she whispered fervently, feeling more than a little aroused by the way he was looking at her.
She realized suddenly that she was much closer to him than she had been a few moments before, only inches away, and that she had dropped the wet rag and was hungrily running her fingers over the planes of his chest, almost without thought. Marian was burning for his touch, going absolutely wild for him, and the insufferable man had done nearly nothing to get her so worked up. He had merely listened to her, occasionally responding with his customary sarcasm in that velvety voice, and watching her with those relentless black eyes that could pierce through mystery and deceit…although she had the unnerving feeling that they could do more than that even. She felt that he stared into her soul and laid claim, permanently branding her as his own.
Marian's feather-light strokes had moved from his chest and arms to his throat and jaw-line. He swallowed convulsively as she traced his Adam's apple with her forefinger in utter fascination. He reached out and gently wiped some foam from her silky shoulder, his touch hesitant at first, but gradually growing surer. Severus licked his lips and said in thick accents, "The one you choose…will be the most fortunate of men."
With great effort, she dragged herself out of her erotic haze. Feeling vaguely horrified at the way she had been pawing at her charge, Marian stood abruptly, sending a surge of water over the side of the tub. She turned away to grab a towel, but not before he saw the look of guilt in her eyes. Did she feel that she was betraying her ideal? This man she hadn't met yet, this absolute bastard that would come in and take everything that Severus himself so desperately desired-this man destined to live the wonderful life she had roughly outlined?
He suddenly knew that he couldn't allow it. Severus couldn't face a future without her in it. He might as well commit suicide now if he was going to be sidelined to Spinner's End, or, best case scenario, roam the world like a wraith, alone and forgotten. He had seen the yearning in her eyes; felt the throb of passion in her touch…his case was far from lost. Although, in the depths of his soul, he felt a little hurt by the knowledge that, even if he managed to triumph, and she succumbed to him, that he would be the consolation prize—'Mr. Right Now'—rather than the deepest desire of her heart.
Marian regained command of herself and transfigured her wet swimsuit into a short, simple gown of daffodil-yellow. It clung to her very distractingly for those few long moments before she remembered the drying charm. She was a little skittish around Severus for the rest of the day.
That afternoon, she stayed away from him, busying herself in the kitchen making a delicious-smelling pot roast for dinner, with rice and green beans, insisting that all of the leftovers could be added to another pot of vegetable soup, which he had requested she serve again. Marian was far from a gourmet chef, and had spent little time cooking over the years, but she had a long memory. The witch clearly recalled the countless happy, childhood afternoons that she had spent perched on the kitchen counter, observing her mother and grandmother. She had received many impromptu lessons on how to make traditional, hearty fare, although she had never developed a passion for cooking. For this reason, and because she had only ever cooked for herself, she had not bothered to expand her repertoire or add anything to her inherited recipes.
Marian had practical, rather than refined, tastes when it came to food, and would have been just as pleased with a piece of meat that had been roasted on a spit over a campfire (with a little salt) as she would have been with a steak of Kobe beef at one of the finest restaurants in the world. But just because she tolerated microwave dinners, didn't mean that she found them remotely acceptable for Severus. Marian would ensure that he enjoyed the best she had to offer.
The stubborn wizard had refused to return to bed after his bath, remaining in his wheelchair to hold onto the sense of power that came with his newly-recovered mobility. Being up and about comforted him and made him feel more self-reliant than he had felt while lying uselessly in bed. But eventually, the novelty wore off, and with exaggerated unconcern, he wheeled into the kitchen to watch her as she rolled out homemade biscuits.
Truthfully, he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He was used to being alone—had known very little else his whole life, but now that he had experienced how comforting her quiet companionship could be, had found himself missing her dreadfully. His neediness both alarmed and disgusted him. Severus had explored the house a little, but nothing had satisfied him. He had felt restless sitting outside alone, when, even there, his sensitive nostrils could detect the delightful aromas broadcasting her presence in the kitchen. And so he had rolled quietly over to the kitchen table, where he would be out of her way, and proceeded to watch her with a keen, calculating gaze.
She lacked his technique when it came to chopping and measuring, but he still found her movements elegant and efficient—although he would never have admitted the fact had she been one of his students. Severus had thought almost obsessively about what Marian had confided in the tub, and found himself even more hopelessly entwined than before. Judging by the things she had said, she longed for the life that he had envisioned in his wildest fantasies, and, what was more, she intended to achieve it. He found himself inspired by her dream. A whisper in his heart that nothing had ever quite managed to silence grew suddenly deafening, as it suggested that such a life was possible…moreover, that it might be his…theirs.
Severus had been shocked to find a full-grown witch that viewed marriage with the same reverence he did. To him, it was the ultimate Unbreakable Vow. He could not account for his instinctive view on the matter, and had often derided himself for his idealistic vision of this Christian sacrament—or 'bonding' as it was referred to in the wizarding world-because his one experience with it-his parents' marriage—had hardly been positive. And yet, he dreamed. In Severus' loyal mind, the logical progression of romance included marriage. He couldn't fathom loving anyone deeply without totally committing to them. It simply wasn't in his nature to do things half-way. To the woman he loved, he would offer his protection, his name, all of himself.
After several hours of being studiously ignored by the pretty witch, who was currently baking a lemon icebox pie, he began to feel rather…woebegone, which was unheard of for him. But it displeased and unsettled him that she avoided his glances. As his neck began to throb and his energy flagged, he decided that this state of affairs must come to an end. "Marian," he finally called, causing her to turn and look at him with wide, guilty eyes.
"I think I'd like to lie down," he confessed faintly, feeling strangely exposed.
Her eyes softened at once, knowing that he must have felt exhausted indeed to have admitted it. She had neglected him, and regretted her inattention, which had forced him to humble himself to her. She meant to anticipate his needs, not to ignore them. "I'm so sorry! I completely lost track of time. I never meant to leave you up for so long...But your timing couldn't be more perfect. All the dishes have been set in motion. Magic will do the rest," she replied, as she pushed him easily back to his room.
After she had fluffed his pillows and levitated him back into bed, it took all of Severus' pride to prevent him from sinking ecstatically into the mattress and wallowing about on the freshly-laundered sheets. Ms. Bear had no such reluctance, he noticed, as she suddenly appeared beside him and began her revelry, after having ascended the doggy stairs, which he supposed were to be a permanent fixture in his room.
"Would you like to take a nap before dinner?" she asked, and even though she still seemed slightly jumpy around him, couldn't resist stroking a lock of hair out of his eyes.
"Tell me—the 'Bible' is your holy book, is it not?" he asked diffidently.
Tilting her head in curiosity, she answered, "Yes, that's right. I'm a Christian."
"Would you…read it to me? I mean, from the beginning?" he asked, voicing a desire he had had for some time.
But Marian couldn't have known this, and blurted out, "There's nothing I would rather do….But why do you want to hear it?"
Feeling slightly like a treed animal, Severus repressed his tendency to retaliate with sarcasm and answered truthfully. "Because I want to know what you believe….And because I remember you reading from it before, back when I was unable to answer you. I found it…comforting," he replied slowly and contemplatively.
"I see," she mused quietly, regarding him with large, bright, sea-colored eyes filled with tenderness.