Chapter 7

A/N: plot starts picking up here, so a bit of a longer chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Daisy POV

Slowly, things between Snape and I seem to return the uneasy status quo we had before he caught – and punished me for – prying. Though I still can't piece together what happened after that. Was in my room for one day or two? I was absolutely famished when I woke up at the kitchen table...but I must have dreamed the second day. Because though I was certain I had hurt my knee, I woke up and it was completely normal.

I still feel rattled by just how vivid that dream felt. It's one of many unusual things I've seen here, and I'm starting to get the sense that I am missing something. I've been wrapped up in my thoughts about being a captive as that has been world-altering on its own. But now my gut is telling me there is more to Snape than meets the eye. Though I don't think he's any more dangerous than I first understood him to be, I'm becoming aware of some kind of control, almost supernatural, that his presence has over me. Or maybe the isolation combined with the stress of my captivity is making me slowly lose my mind.

I come downstairs for breakfast still wearing his old clothes as pajamas. I haven't bothered to make myself presentable before my coffee anymore. I've been tormented by nightmares lately, reliving his anger. And some less scary dreams that still wake me with a racing heart...and an almost unbearable tension between my legs.

Snape's already laid my food out on the table, and I settle into the chair readily. Too often in these quiet mornings, my thoughts turn to how different my mornings at home were. I'd stay up as late as possible each night, and regret it each morning, oversleeping and having to rush to get ready for work. Now I go to bed so early, not having enough to keep me entertained, that I can actually enjoy waking with the sun.

I take another languid sip of coffee, trying to distract myself from thinking too much about my family so I don't get the unbearable ache in my chest from missing them. Snape does make much better coffee than I do, I have to give him that.

"Severus, are you here?" a man's voice calls from behind one of the doors I'm not supposed to open.

Everything seems to happen at once. Snape locks eyes with me and grabs my upper arm, pulling me out of my chair and hastily toward the coat closet. He practically stuffs me in.

Just before he shuts the door, he glares at me. "Say nothing and don't come out until I come to get you."

Is his boss here? A shiver of fear runs from my toes to the roots of my hair. Things had been so quiet, I'd almost forgotten that there was some other man pulling the strings. But I didn't hear a door open!

Conversation drifts through the door, but I can't make out any particular words. But Snape sounds annoyed. I doubt he's speak to his boss like that. And he'd have no reason to hide me from him.

The voices grow nearer, and I push slightly deeper into the closet, brushing my back against the dusty hanging coats.

They must be in the kitchen now, because I can make out words.

"Severus, I insist that we catch up over a cup of tea like civilized men. How is an old man like myself supposed to carry on without regular sustenance?" He sounds rather too cheerful to be a friend of Snape's.

Snape – who must also be called Severus – speaks too quietly for me to hear.

"No need to trouble yourself. Poppy sent me with a care package. She worries you don't eat enough when you're outside of her culinary domain."

If Snape replies, I can't make it out.

"Is everything alright? You seem...tense."

"Everything is fine, Headmaster. But I'm not used to being honored with your house calls." Headmaster?

"Well, when you don't come to the Order meetings, what else am I supposed to do? You do know you have to come to the meetings, yes? I know your summer is precious to you, but surely you can spare a few hours every couple weeks. Time is of the essence."

I strain to listen, and as I shift closer to the door, I disturb more of the dust that covers everything in the closet. My nose twitches. Oh no.

Snape's reply is even more scornful than he's used to address me. "You know very well that I know that. If you came here to just to nag me on my attendance, you could have just wrote."

My nose twitches again, and I hold my breath, trying to hold back the sneeze that is building up.

But the cheerful man seems unphased. "You know I worry about you, Severus. Shut away in this old house."

"I assure you, there's nothing to worry about in that regard."

I try my best to contain the sneeze. Though it's quiet, it still cuts through the pause in their conversation.

"Is someone here?" the unknown man whispers, his voice suddenly dark.

"No, Albus, it's not-"

Snape is interrupted when the closet door flies open, seemingly of its own accord. I blink in the sudden light, taking in the old man with a white beard nearly down to the floor. And he's looking just as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He's dressed in a light blue robe covered with constellations, sky blue flowing trousers and a button up shirt.

"Well, excuse me," he says, looking at me with kind eyes and a warm smile. With a twinkle in his eye, he turns to Snape. "You could have just said you had company."

"Now is not the time, Albus. You should leave."

The old man chuckles. "I see why you're in such a hurry to get me to leave. But I would quite like to be introduced to this delightful angel."

His kind words make me blush, and I take a couple steps closer, though Snape gives me a warning glare.

Through gritted teeth, Snape says, "Her name is Daisy."

"Daisy, a pleasure. I'm Albus Dumbledore. I don't believe we've met! Where did you do your schooling?"

Snape mutters something. It sounds like "Muggle." I can't quite make it out, but it must be some sort of English swear.

Albus glances at him for a long moment, two eyebrows raised. Then he turns back to me. "Ah, you'll have to forgive me. Getting on in years like I am, sometimes I forget my manners. I've clearly intruded here. Severus, I will give you your morning back to spend with your lovely companion. But you must promise me to tear yourself away from her for a few hours to attend the meeting this Sunday." He walks by with a wink, exiting through the same door I tried to open and set off a siren. Snape follows on his heels, looking as red in the face as I feel.

Clearly, this man knows next to nothing about Snape, thinking we're lovers when that couldn't be further from reality. I stand dumbfounded in the middle of the kitchen, still surprised by this turn of events and that strange man. And I wonder what these meetings are that Snape is missing.

Snape POV

"You stupid, reckless old man!" I curse him the moment the door is shut to my study and my silencing wards are in effect.

"Oh, pish posh. I didn't do anything you can't explain away."

"We're not lovers," I find myself bellowing. "And I haven't been the Order meetings because I didn't want to have to tell you, or the others, about her."

"If you're not...who is she, and what is she doing in your house? Wearing your clothes?" His kindly exterior has been replaced by his cold business one. The one that is on the hunt for any type of deceit.

"She's my project from Voldemort." He raises an eyebrow but otherwise says nothing, so I continue, searching for words to explain. "He hasn't told me what he wants with her or why. He told me she's an American muggle, but she's got at least a small magic spark in her. I'm to hold her, no longer than until the end of the summer. The only condition he provided is that I can't physically harm her."

"Is this a test of your loyalty? A way to gauge if you can be trusted?"

"That's the only thing I can think of. I've cast everything I can think of on her, in case she was a spy to monitor my activities. No trace of dark magic around her, she's not drinking polyjuice, no transfiguration or other charms. I even slipped her Veritaserum, learned nothing of importance. And as an American, I can't imagine she even knows who Lord Voldemort is. Let alone how he would know of her!"

"Why did you not tell me, Severus? You know you shouldn't keep secrets from me with it comes to Voldemort. Not even something seemingly small."

I hesitate. I don't have a good explanation. In my heart of hearts, I know why I waited to tell him. I wanted to hold out hope that he could find a way to save the girl. That I wouldn't have to spend thousands of hours trapped with her, get to know her despite my best efforts not to, only to watch the Dark Lord torture and kill her. "I didn't want to disappoint you. To have you, and the others, know what evil tasks I have to do as a Death Eater. The way the rest of them would look at me...like I'm a villain, when I'm just trying to do what I can – what must be done – in order to defeat Voldemort."

He hums softly. "I understand. It's a very unfortunate situation. I'm sorry, Severus. But you have to come to me with these sorts of things. Right now, this is the only thing we know about Tom's activities. She could be more important than he's letting on. Otherwise, why would he have you do this instead of one of the other lower ranking members?"

I shrug, not wanting to delve into the general perverted disposition of the rank-and-file Death Eaters.

"Perhaps some subtle legilimency will prove enlightening."

"I don't think I can gather much without admitting to her what I'm doing."

"Then admit it. She has a magical spark, so she should have been trained. The Americans can be so lax about these things...but it's still unusual she doesn't know of her powers. Perhaps it's time she did."

"And learn all about this world of magic, the entire wizarding world, just weeks before her death?"

He fixes me with a knowing gaze. "Better that than the moments before her death, I would say. Figure out what you can, but when that time comes, you know you must protect your cover above all else."

"I know," I answer placidly. But inside I feel my already pulverized heart ache. I don't know how much more I can take. I've tried to keep my guard up to her, but through legilimency, literally seeing her memories, feeling her emotions, I don't know if I will be able to keep my budding feelings toward her at bay. And already I've been fighting myself, lingering in the kitchen after breakfast, making up excuses to myself just to soak in her presence. Somehow, her activity – though verging on flighty with caged energy – soothes me.

At that, Dumbledore departs through the Floo network. I head back to the door, hesitating. Am I really about to admit to her that magic exists? Now she'll really think I'm mental.

Daisy POV

"Daisy," Snape calls. I'd retreated to my bedroom after the man appeared.

For some reason, hearing Snape call my name sends a shiver up my spine. He's never summoned me before. Or sought out my company. I have a bad feeling about this.

In one of the simple sundresses he bought for me at the store, I head downstairs. He's looking as stiff as always, but there's something new in his posture. Some sort of trepidation.

"I'm going to show you something, and I ask you not to interrupt me until I am finished. Ask me for something that you want. It can be anything."

"A radio?"

He produces the strange stick he used to light my dress on fire, holds it up to one hand, and then a boombox radio appears.

My eyebrows fly to my forehead.

"Something else."

I stumble over my words, staring at the boombox uncomprehendingly. "Uhh, a kitten?" My voice is squeaky. A gray kitten suddenly appears, mewling in his hand. I gasp. He passes it to me, and I can feel its tiny form, soft fur. Its eyes are clear and bright. It's undeniably alive.

"Something else."

"Make...make me fly?" I'm nearly certain this is one of those very vivid dreams, but I want it confirmed.

He takes the kitten from my hands and gently sets it on the floor. It goes happily trotting off to explore the house. And then he takes his hand into mine. His dark eyes, nearly black, spark with something as our hands meet. His skin is warm, slightly calloused, and my hand in his, I feel overwhelmed by a sensation of safety. So completely opposite from how I should feel at his touch.

But I don't have time dwell on that, because he mumbles something, and then slowly, I'm raised off the floor as if from an invisible hand. As I watch the floor grow further away, my jaw begins to drop. I look into Snape's eyes, searching for a clue, some understanding of what is going on. But he has that constant steely gaze.

"Do you understand?" he asks.

"No, I don't...how could I? What sort of dream...?"

"How can I prove to you that this is not a dream?"

"I want...I want to go outside."

He frowns. "If I do that, do you promise to behave? If you try to run, I can strike you down in an instant."

Swallowing hard, I nod. I believe that now.

Gradually, he lowers us until my feet brush the floor. "Hold on to me, and do not let go."

Then I feel as though I've been compressed down to something insignificant, no more than an atom zooming through space. But it lasts only a breath, and then we pop out somewhere damp and windy. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the daylight after so many days inside. Already my hair is catching drops of mist and there is a bite in the chilly air against my bare arms, but I don't care. It's the best thing I've ever felt. We're in an old forest, verdant with mosses and sprawling oaks. I fall on to my butt in the dirt, toppled by a mixture of laughing and crying.

I run my fingers through the soil, breathing in the earthy aroma. It's the most beautiful thing I've smelt. I don't know how I had managed to go weeks without stepping outside. I never much cared for nature before because I took for granted that it was always around. But this...it's amazing.

Suddenly self-conscious, I realize that Snape hasn't taken his eyes off of me. I meet his cool gaze, embarrassed by my show of emotion, but he just extends a hand, not caring about the dirt on mine, and helps me to my feet.

"This isn't even the best part," he says. He leads me out of the woods, which I see now was really only a grove, and the earth opens up before me in emerald cliffs that plunge to the ocean, stretching as far as my eyes can see.

I pull us to a stop, utterly struck by the sight. "Where are we?"

"Cliffs of Maher, in Ireland."

"It's beautiful," I say, perhaps unnecessarily.

He lets me stand there for a few long, blissful moments. I try not to think, not to panic about the significance behind being here and how it is possible. I want to just enjoy it for as long as I can.

"So," he says, "do you believe me?"

"Believe you what?"

"That this, which should be impossible, is possible."

I take stock of how each of my senses is so completely enveloped by this place – smell, touch, sound, sight. I can even taste the salty air. It's all perfect. Too perfect for a dream to recreate or any illusion.

"Yes, I believe you."

"We should go back. It's risky having you out in the open like this."

Disappointment swells in my chest, but I allow Snape to bring me back to the grove of trees. I link my arm with his once more, and he brings us back into the hallway of his house in an instant. It's practically as if we had never left. Did I hallucinate the whole thing? But then I see the discarded radio, and I rush to it, running my hands over it reverently.

"Come, we have much to discuss."

He brings me to the kitchen and spends the better part of an hour filling my head with fantastical revelations about the Wizarding World, telling me about the different types of magic: charms, hexes, jinks, potions, transfiguration, herbology, divination; the Ministry of Magic and the American equivalent; Hogwarts, where he teaches; and the division brewing between Dark and Light wizards.

"You must have lots of questions," he says, his spiel concluded.

"Yes. This magic, how is it created? Why are you magical but I'm not?"

He shifts in his seat, hiding his eyes from me for a moment, and mine grow wide. "I am magical?"

He returns his gaze to me, face sullen. "I believe so, yes."

"Oh, my." Everything that he told me before I handled calmly. But this revelation might be too much. I feel more excited, more alive than I ever have before.

"But no one really knows what makes someone magical. There's a hereditary component to it, but sometimes there are people, like yourself, who have a touch of magic without a known tie to a magical ancestor. And, very rarely, there are people who don't inherit any magical abilities from known magic users."

"Fascinating."

"I'm surprised how calmly you are taking this."

"Well, I had noticed quite a few things that were odd about this place. I probably never would have guessed actual magic, but...it fits. Can I see your wand?"

Seemingly reluctantly, he pulls a stick, nearly a foot long, from his pocket. This was what he used to light my dress on fire.

"It looks so...simple. Do you need a wand to do magic?"

"I don't. Advanced magic users don't need one although it still helps, but everyone has to start by using a wand."

"Why?"

"Well...I'm not really sure. It helps focus your magic, I suppose?"

"How long have you lot been around, and you still don't know the mechanics of how magic works?" I tease.

"Not 'you lot' anymore. You're one of us." His low voice reverberates with significance.

I look down at my hands, folded in my lap. "As your captive...are you really going to teach me how to do magic?" He purses his lips together, brow furrowed, and that's all the answer I need. "Yeah, I didn't think so. Why wasn't I taught magic before, if I have a spark?"

"I'm not sure. The American system is much less regulated, more ad hoc. Perhaps they weren't aware of you, or your parents ignored their overtures."

"Why, after weeks of me being here, why are you telling me now? Did the old man make you?" I've already surmised that must be Snape's boss at Hogwarts.

"I will teach you at least one thing about magic. I need your help with something very important."

I shift in my seat, suddenly uncomfortable. He spends weeks practically ignoring me, and now he wants my help?

"I need to learn more about you. My boss, the one who is making me hold you here, he hasn't told me why. But whatever the reason is, I need to try to figure it out. And sorting through your memories...it might help me do it."

"That kindly old man is the one who is making you hold me here?" Now I'm confused.

"Oh, no. He's a...different boss." Sighing, he launches into another long-winded explanation about the Dark and the Light wizards, explaining the Dark's obsession with blood purity and how Snape himself serves both sides as a double agent.

When he's done, I look at him with a newfound respect. I knew I sensed a depth of bravery and strength in him, but I had no idea just how much. "So, as a 'mudblood' myself, the Dark Lord doesn't like me?"

"That could be part of it. But there are at least thousands of muggle-born witches and wizards. And he told me that you were a muggle, someone non-magical. So it may be he doesn't even know you can use magic."

I hum to myself at that.

"But I want to warn you, this memory-melding technique. It is...well...I will see what you see, experience everything you do, even relive your feelings. There will be no hiding any part of yourself. And you will have to relive it all too." His eyes bore into me, and I feel myself start to flush, remembering some of the dreams I've been having lately. I'd certainly like to keep that hidden. "Because it's such an invasive process, I won't do it unless you agree to it."

"But it is important? To stopping Voldemort?"

Snape winces at the name. But then he nods. "It might be. And it's our only lead."

I think for a moment, weighing my privacy and ego. I don't want anyone snooping through my head. But if Snape risks his life every day to try to bring this man to justice, it's a small price to pay.

"Okay, I'll do it. But on one condition."

"What is your condition?"

"I want to keep that kitten you summoned."

For the first time, I manage to make Snape laugh.