Graihagh ran the streets of Spinner's End, leather satchel banging against her legs, a stitch in her side, praying that he was still awake. She'd arranged to come Wednesday morning at six, but she'd gone back on a whim to see if there was anything earlier, and just her luck, there was an opening for Tuesday night at eleven.

Twenty-eight, twenty-four...there it was. Number twenty-two, with the cat dish on the stoop and the fifty million locks. The sitting room window was dark, but he might've been in his bedroom, reading.

She set her satchel down and knocked.

A rush of cold air went through her. He must've had some sort of protection around the place. She bounced a bit on her heels and watched the sitting room window, waiting for the lamp to come on. Just like him, to keep her in suspense.

He had a ritual. Yank back the curtains, turn on the lamp, unlock the door. Click click click. She had a Pavlovian response to those locks now, she was almost shaking from nerves.

He was dressed in a long grey nightshirt, his feet bare, hair tousled. She must've gotten him out of bed.

"Hey," she said. "I know I said I'd come tomorrow but I couldn't wait that long."

His face was a blank page, impossible to read. There was no anger there, no irritation, but no upturned lips either, no softness around the eyes. Just a faint crease above the bridge of his nose, like he was utterly bewildered.

"I'm sorry," she rushed on. "I know I should've told you and you were probably sleeping and maybe this is really rude-"

He let go of the door and stepped towards her and she threw her arms around him, buried her face in his neck, stroked his hair. "I missed you."

Severus put his arms around her, his body hard and bony under the thin cotton. "Obviously, if you couldn't wait seven hours."

"Right, I can tell how disappointed you are that I showed up."

Severus laughed-laughed-or at least he sort of did, he let out a huff of air against her ear and his stomach puffed out. She rested her forehead against his, tilting her head a bit so their noses wouldn't collide. She did love that beak of his. Grecian, she thought it was called. Or Roman, one of the two.

She breathed him in and his pungent oily scent became her atmosphere, his breath like hot wind on her skin. She reached up to cup his face.

"Graihagh," he said.

Her name. Her name on his lips, against her skin. She nuzzled his face. "Severus."

"Graihagh," he said again. "It's freezing out here."

She pulled away, only slowly realising that they were still on his front stoop. "Oh. Yeah. Let's get inside, then."

She picked up her satchel and stepped into the sitting room as he locked the door behind them. The lamp bathed the room in deep orange, except for the shelves of books, like tall square shadows. She'd found it bleak, this place, the first time she'd come. But now it felt familiar, welcoming. He was everywhere, in the books along walls and the empty wineglass on the end table, the jars of specimens on shelves, the clock between the books. Precise and methodical, like him.

She stood in the middle of the room, satchel in hand, like she'd come to a fork in the road. Which bedroom would she stay in?

"You must be tired," said Severus.

"Not much."

She pulled off her traveling cloak and glanced about the room.

"Anywhere," he said, and she tossed it onto a chair.

She'd put on a new top, a tight white camisole to go with her black jeans. This did not escape Severus' attention.

She stepped towards him, lifted her arms to drape them around his neck, realised she was probably a sweaty mess from all that running and brushed her hair out of her face instead, keeping her arm tightly wedged against her chest. "So-"

"Did you have a good trip here?"

"Well, you know. I just took a Portkey from Douglas.

Severus flushed, and she did too, out of sympathy. She was as nervous as he was. She burst out laughing.

"What's so funny, Corlett?"

Well. He wasn't using her first name now.

She took his hands in hers, thin and callused and just a bit warm. "I'm sorry. It wasn't anything to do with you. I have a this bad habit of laughing when I'm nervous."

He looked as bewildered as he had when she'd showed up on his doorstep, and she understood then, that she'd caught him off guard, showing up so late. She was so stupid, why didn't she ever think before doing these things?

"I've really messed this up, haven't I?"

Severus kept her hands in his. "No. You haven't."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure.

She rested her forhead against his. "Say my name again."

"Graihagh."

"Again," she whispered.

He murmured her name against her mouth and she pressed her lips to his before he'd finished.

He let her lead, his lips soft and dry on hers, not really moving much. She wouldn't call it a friendly kiss, there was too much heat in it for that. But he was holding back, she could feel it.

She pulled away. "Look at me." He opened his eyes. His expression was hard to read, but he kept them on hers. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever. No matter what happens. You're stuck with me now."

He stared at her, but not the way he did sometimes, all methodical, like he was trying to read her. He just rested in her. A long thin finger slid down her face, her throat. He tilted his head.

Their months apart had left a hollow space for their bodies to fill, their lips and their tongues and their grasping hands. He slid a hand down the small of her back and pulled her closer as he stroked her face. She closed her hand around his, bringing those long thin fingers to her mouth to gently suck them.

"Come with me," he whispered,

She followed him through the entrance to the kitchen, up the stairs to the landing. He opened the door to his bedroom, which was lit by a lamp on the ceiling, like the sitting room downstairs.

She thought he might've changed it completely, expanded it, added heavy furniture, but it was bare and spartan, the walls stained from smoke and leaky pipes. There was a single bed with a thick woolen blanket, a shelf full of books and jars and Muggle records. A telescope and a globe. A cage for his owl. A book on his nightstand with a vampire on the cover, with a shirtless man pinned underneath her...

"Hold on," said Graihagh. "Is that my book?"

Severus' face flushed. "I found it in the other room," he said. "You seem to have left it behind."

Graihagh laughed. "And you decided to keep it on your nightstand for me. How thoughtful."

Snape scratched the back of his neck. "Yes, well."

Graihagh ran her fingers along the globe, traced the Atlas mountains. Why on earth was she so nervous, it wasn't like they hadn't done this before.

"This is a nice room," she said.

"It's a room."

She supposed he didn't had many happy memories here. Maybe she could make one for him.

Severus was looking out the window. His face was blank but his hands gripped the windowsill so tightly they were white.

She came up behind him. "Can you see the stars from that window?"

"There wasn't much to see out there but the privy. I took care of that though." He flicked off the lamp and the ceiling glowed with planets and stars, even more vivid than the ones in her room. She might've been floating through space.

"It's just like looking at the night sky," she said, gazing up at it.

"I used to imagine I was up there. Exploring all those alien worlds."

She wrapped her arms around the back of his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Tell me about them."

"There was one where everything was upside-down. You could walk on water and float through the air. Play at night and sleep in the day. And that one," he said, pointing to a wispy white nebula, "That one was a favourite of mine. I imagined I could sit on it like a raft and float through the galaxy."

Graihagh pressed her lips to his neck. "I'll imagine I'm up there with you."

He turned his head towards her and kissed her, softly at first, then harder, faster. She kissed his neck and he turned his body towards her, taking her into his arms and kissing her throat, her bare shoulders, running his hands up her side, stroking her breasts.

"You like this top, don't you," she said as he kissed her collarbone.

"Mmm," he murmured, slipping his hands under the camisole and stroking her waist. "But you'd look better with it off."

"I think that can be arranged." She pulled it over her head-not exactly gracefully, it was rather tight-and thwacked Severus in the face with her elbow.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"

"Yes," said Severus, rubbing his face. "But in future you might want to consider drawing up a waiver so you're not held liable for any damage that occurs to my person."

Graihagh laughed and reached for his buttons. "Alright then, you show me how it's done Don Juan."

Severus undid his top buttons and pulled the nightshirt over his head in one swift movement. Smooth.

The stars on the ceiling lit his body from above, the pale skin stretched over bone. She brushed her hands across his stomach; he was trembling slightly.

"I was really nervous the first time we did this," she said, so he'd know he wasn't alone.

Severus clicked his tongue in disbelief.

"I'm serious. I was so afraid you wouldn't find me attractive."

Severus pulled her closer and stroked her bare back. "Why on earth would you think that?"

Just what she'd needed to hear. She slid her fingers down his chest.

"I could say the same to you, you know. I don't know how you could ever think you were unattractive."

The stood with their arms wrapped around each other, stroking each other's bare skin, kissing each other's shoulders. They'd been apart for so long it was like he'd never touched her before; his fingertips were like a staticky paintbrush, feather-light and electric.

They took off the rest of their clothes, peeled off their socks, flung them into a pile on the floor. Severus lay back on the bed and she got on top of him, stradding his legs between hers.

"Do you like this?" she asked.

"Quite."

She kissed his neck. "Just tell me what you like, okay? Anything."

They took it slow this time, shifting so that they were on their sides facing each other. He ran his hands down her legs, across her hips, her arse, the back of her thighs. Explored her chest with his mouth, making her moan.

He pulled away to kiss her face and she explored every part of him; stroked the stray hairs on his chest, kissed the white scars; traced the line of hair below his navel, followed it to the tangle of curls, slid her hands across his hipbones, where they jutted out, following them down to the hollows. Teased out sounds, sharp little breaths, as she memorised the places he liked to be touched. The base of his stomach, his arse, the dip where his thighs met his abdomen.

She worked her way up again and explored him with her mouth this time, kissing the base of his throat, working her way down his chest, to his stomach, tracing his hip bones with her lips. "You're perfect, you know that? Every part of you is perfect."

"You flatter me."

She brought her face to his and pressed a finger to his lips. "Hey," she whispered. "You be quiet and let me love you."

She slid her finger away and he kissed her, pressed her into his chest. She needed more of him, and he needed her, she felt it in the way he raised his hips and thrust against her. She got into position and guided him inside her, watching his face to see how he felt. His eyes were closed, his mouth open slightly in a moan too faint to hear. He was so open, so vulnerable.

She lowered herself onto his chest and closed her eyes, rocking her hips against his. This was so good, so intensely good, but it wasn't just the sensations, as nice as those were; it was him.

"I missed you," she breathed, rocking her hips again.

"I missed you too."

His voice rumbled against her chest. She rocked her hips again, harder this time, and he thrust upward to meet her, once, twice; and they spoke with their bodies, reaching for something they couldn't find on their own, filling up that hollow space.

He'd broken into a sweat and his legs were tight, tense. He hadn't been inside her long, and she didn't care.

"I love it when you come for me," she whispered. "Show me how hard you can come."

He thrust into her and there in his room, under the light of his imagined worlds, in that space that was only for them, he opened himself to her. He gasped, his whole body shaking, his hands slack on her back. He shuddered and grunted and lay still on the bed, breathing fast.

She eased herself off him and kissed his lips as he pulled her closer. His mouth wouldn't form the question, but his eyes did.

She took his wrist and guided his hand between her legs. His fingertips were callused and his touch was every bit as delicate as she'd imagined, every bit as subtle, however inexperienced he may have been. She lay back on the pillow and made a noise, a desperate little whimper, but she wasn't ashamed, wasn't self-conscious, not with him. She let herself go, let it build, until she gripped the pillow and cried out loud, the pleasure so intense it erased everything. She'd forgotten how good it was, when it was someone else's hands. Especially his. Fucking hell, those hands.

Severus cleaned the sheet lay and down beside her. She laid her head on his chest, whispering the words into his skin.

"I love you."

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair and she knew what he couldn't say.

Snape didn't see her every night. Sometimes his sleep was deep and untroubled. But she'd always come back. Circling her starry cage, watching him with a hiss that might've been the Dark Lord, might've been his own voice, vibrating inside his head.

And then she struck.

He sat up. The room was pitch black, she'd got him, and all those voices were screaming in his head, pleading for his help.

"Severus?"

Graihagh must've come for him.

"Is everything okay?"

The bedsprings creaked as she sat up beside him and hugged him from behind. "It's over now. It's just us."

He clutched her arm, got his bearings. They were in his bedroom in Spinner's End and it was over.

He lay back down and she curled her body around him, her bare chest against his back. Her warm weight took the edge off his panic. He fell back asleep.

The room was still dark when Graihagh's foot collided with his shin, but it must've been morning, or close to it. He flicked his wand towards the curtains and they parted, filling the room with cool September light.

Graihagh had turned away from him in her sleep, her arms over the blankets, shoulders bare. His lips found the soft spot on the back of her neck.

He reckoned a bit of revenge was in order. He peeled back the blanket, exposing her back, the ridges of her spine, her ribcage, rising and falling with her breathing. He waited, so as not to wake her, and pulled back the blanket some more, revealing her lovely soft arse, her long legs.

He'd struggled to stay present, to remember that she was real, and he was real, and it was really happening. To stop himself being disgusted at his own body, at what he was doing. He was still nervous, afraid he'd lost the fight, afraid she wouldn't want him. But she was here with him now, and there wasn't any other place he wanted to be, and so he held on tight and hoped like hell she wouldn't let go.

He ran his hands down her back. He wasn't really following any sort of rules or going off experience or anything like that. He just touched her in ways that felt natural to him, and so far she seemed to like it. He ran his hands down the back of her legs. They were sinewy, taut. She could wrap them around his head and crush him.

The sheet rustled and Graihagh let out a breathy little laugh. "That feels amazing," she said, hugging the pillow. He couldn't see her face but he knew she was smiling.

He curved his body around hers and wrapped an arm around her chest as she kissed him. He didn't need her as urgently as he had the night before, but he was already aroused. Her skin felt so good against his.

"So tell me something," she said, as she turned to face him. "Have you ever had a wet dream about me?"

"Mmm," he said, kissing her jaw. "In fact I had a dream about you the other night."

"Really? What happened?"

He kissed her neck. "You came in through my bedroom window."

"Go on."

He grazed his lips across her collarbone, sliding down to her chest. "You got into bed with me and crawled over my naked body."

"And?"

"You started pecking my eyes out. You were a crow."

She laughed in his hair and gave him a playful shove. "You're such a smartass, Severus."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way."

He propped himself up so that his face was above hers. Her hair was tousled and her mascara smeared and there was sleep in her eyes and spit on her chin. Strangely alluring.

He kissed her lips, her face, her neck. He liked the way she moaned when he brought his mouth to her chest. Maybe she was faking it, trying to flatter him, but he didn't think so.

He mapped out her body, the ridges and hollows, spidery veins, freckles, scars, tattoos. She had a Celtic knot on her forearm, a flask filled with green potion on her bicep, a ring of script around her ankle, and most inexplicably, on her shoulder-

"A hedgehog?"

"It was cute."

"In a ridiculous sort of way."

"I don't suppose you were ever wild enough to get any tattoos."

She realised what she'd said as soon as it was out of her mouth, he could see it in her face. She'd seen his mark before, and she knew why he'd gotten it. "For fun, I mean."

"No. Not for fun."

Graihagh propped herself up and smoothed back his hair. "I don't care, okay? I still love you."

He didn't know he believed her.

She put her hands to his face. "I mean it, Severus. I don't care. I know who you are."

He closed his eyes and followed her back to the warmth of her body, fighting like hell to hold on to her, to this, this thing he didn't understand.

Her left arm was beside his face and he found the silver scar, from the blade of a knife, her own initiation into dark magic, her own dark mark. He stroked it with his fingers, followed her arm up to the shoulder, where another silver scar ran down the side of her body, all the way to her hips. Her penance, the way Nagini's scar was for him. He bent his head and pressed his lips to it.

Graihagh was so still, only her chest moving up and down. She grabbed his face and kissed him hard.

"It was you, wasn't it? You Imperiused Rowle."

And this time, he could tell her. "Yes."

She kissed him again. "Don't be gentle with me. Not unless you want to."

He knew what she was asking. And he wanted to. He was relaxed enough from the night before that he could, at least for a bit. But was it selfish, to take the risk of hurting her? Was it love, this desire to drive into her?

She wrapped her legs around him-lord, they were strong, she could squeeze the circulation out of him. She guided him in and he kissed her mouth as he thrust.

"You're perfect too, did you know that?" he murmured against her lips. He couldn't bear to look at her but he felt her smile.

He would just have to trust himself, impossible as that seemed. He thrust harder, as hard as he could go almost, and she raised her hips to meet him, her hand digging into his shoulders, moaning; she wanted this. Wanted him. Her body didn't lie.

She closed her other hand around his wrist and guided him to her. He touched her as he thrust, letting go of everything, until there was nothing but their bodies, their sweating, grasping, scarred, imperfect bodies. He didn't know where his ended and hers began.

Snape lay on his back, Graihagh's head on his chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his stomach.

"Someone's come to join us," she said, as Paracelcus hopped onto the bed. "Ow!" She sat up and pulled her feet back.

"Did he decide your toes were prey?" No sooner had he asked than Paracelscus answered the question by grabbing his foot and digging his claws in.

Snape scooped him up and placed him on the floor, but was hard to be annoyed, in his state. Minerva McGonagall could've walked into the room and announced he was the new Potions master and he would've just lay there grinning like an idiot.

Snape settled back onto the bed beside Graihagh and Paracelcus jumped onto his chest and started purring, the clingy thing. Well. Now it was just embarrassing. Nothing he'd done in life merited this kind of contentment.

"He's beautiful," said Graihagh, stroking his chin with one finger. "How long have you had him now?"

"About fifteen years."

Graihagh scratched him behind the ears and he purred so loudly Snape's chest was vibrating. "Did you have any pets growing up?"

Snape stared up at the ring of stains on the ceiling. With Graihagh beside him and the cat on his chest and the morning light on the walls, it seemed like another life.

"There was this scrawny orange cat that used to come round every day," he said. "Pitiful thing. I could see its bones. My mother took her in. I named her Hecate."

Graihagh rested her head against his.

"My father hated her. One day she got scared and swiped at him and he yanked her right up by the fur and chucked her out the door."

The rings had jagged edges like islands on map. He'd even named them. Maybe that's why he never bothered to get rid of them. "Hecate came round a few more times. Stood at the door and cried to get in. I didn't know how to explain to her that I couldn't let her."

Graihagh smoothed back his hair, and he liked this, but he didn't want her pity.

"Well," she said, in that impish way of hers, "we'll just have to fill this house up with strays, won't we? We'll have so many your father will be rolling in his grave."

She understood.

He rolled over to his side before she could say anything else and pulled a package off the floor.

"I've got something for you." He tossed it into her hands.

Graihagh smiled. "Getting me gifts now? You do like me."

"Bit."

She unwrapped the package and ran her hands along the leather. "A field journal? I love it." She flipped through the empty pages. "I suppose you'll be wanting yours back now?"

"Well-"

"What makes you think I still have it?"

Of course she didn't. She must've been furious with him. She'd probably tossed it into the rubbish bin.

"I'm only joking, I packed it with me. I was hoping we'd go out in the field." She smirked at the relief on his face and he pretended he'd known all along.

"Nice time of year for it."

"Mmm. D'you want to bath first or should I?"

"Go ahead."

She kissed him and crawled off the bed. "You just want an excuse to look at my arse, don't you?" she said as she bent down to pick up her clothes.

Snape propped himself up on one elbow and admired the view. She really did have a lovely arse. All of her was lovely. "You're not wrong."

He sank back in the bed, thinking he might drift off for awhile. He was falling asleep when the alarm went off, a maddening buzz like a Muggle alarm clock. Shit. Of all the times for an intruder to show up. He threw on yesterday's robes and did up the buttons, fuming. Someone was about to get hexed.

He stomped downstairs and swept through the sitting room. The bathtub was filling in the room off the kitchen.

He yanked back the curtains and nearly jumped. Minerva McGonagall was standing on his doorstep. And she'd seen him.

Bloody hell. Of all the times to show up, when he was flushed and sweaty and smelling of sex. He smoothed back his hair-a fat lot of good that would do him, his hair was oily enough to start a war over-and straightened his robes.

"Minerva," he said, as casually as he could manage, but not in a post-coital way. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Good morning, Severus," said Minerva in her usual brisk manner, but with a hint of warmth. She mercifully refrained from looking him up and down.

"I'm afraid I can't stay long. I just popped over to drop something off."

"Yes. Right. Of course."

He stood there with the door partway open, waiting, but whatever it was, she clearly wasn't going to give it to him there. Her eyes flickered to the door.

"Right. Well. Won't you come in?"

"Thank you, Severus."

This wasn't the first time Minerva had been to Spinner's End-his first few years teaching she'd followed him around in cat form, checking on his welfare-but she'd never been in his house before. Thank Merlin he'd given it a proper cleaning the day before.

She took a seat on the sofa. How very awkward.

"Tea?" he said, following the old familiar script.

"Go on, then."

He only had two cups suitable for tea, an old teacup of his mother's and a ceramic mug he'd gotten at a thrift shop, with the legend 'I hate Mondays' beside a cartoon cat. He gave her the teacup.

"I hope I didn't catch you out of bed," said Minerva.

"Er-"

She reached into the pocket of her robes and pulled out a flask with silver white ribbons of thought.

His memories.

"I thought you might want these back, Severus," she said, her voice softer, almost apologetic.

He took the flask with both hands and cradled it like a bomb. So much of his life was there. The best and the worst. He wanted to know, but couldn't bring himself to ask.

"Only a few of us saw them," said Minerva, reading his thoughts. She said it like an apology, which irritated him. If she felt that guilty she should've refrained from looking in the first place. He stared at down at her teacup. He couldn't look at her face.

She cleared her throat, tapped her fingers on the teacup. "I apologise that more wasn't done for you in school, Severus. What they did was completely out of line."

Oh fucking hell. She'd seen that. How many others had seen? He took a long drink to avoid looking at her. Fortunately he was left-handed and the cartoon cat faced inwards.

"As I said, only a few people know-"

A few people too many. He hoped they weren't long for this world.

"-and I'll see to it that no one else finds out."

He doubted it. "Rita Skeeter must be having a field day."

"Oh, she won't be reporting anything for a long time." Minerva sipped her tea, her smug lips pursed. The minister's daughter could drink like the most savage of duchesses.

"What do you mean?"

"It seems Miss Granger was furious about that little expose on Dumbledore. She may have let slip that Skeeter is an unregistered animagus."

Ah. So she'd learned a thing or two from him. He made a mental note to write Miss Granger an anonymous letter thanking her for her service.

The water drained from the bathtub. Snape rushed to fill in the silence.

"So is Slughorn still Potion's master?"

"Yes, he decided to stay on another year. And we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Athena Wilkes, do you remember her?"

He did remember her. She was the same woman who'd been offered to him as a reward, whom he'd hurried out of the manor and urged to go abroad. Strange world.

The bathtub stopped draining. Graihagh could go up the stairs without Minerva seeing her, but she'd hear the creak of her footsteps.

"Bath's ready."

Or not.

Before he could stop her she walked into the sitting room with nothing but a towel wrapped around her waist. She shrieked.

Minerva shaded her eyes like she'd been blinded.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-I didn't realise-"

Now what? He supposed etiquette demanded an introduction. "Minerva, this is my-this is Graihagh."

Graihagh lifted her hand in a feeble wave. "Hi there."

"Hello."

"Well, I'll just leave you two to catch up." She bolted out of the room.

Minerva turned to him with both eyebrows raised in her 'care to explain this?' face.

"Friend of mine."

"Apparently. For how long now?"

"About a year."

Minerva's eyebrows shot up again. "A year? So you know her all the time you were headmaster?"

"She was in hiding. She made potions for the Order. She was the one who saved my life."

"I see," said Minerva. He'd been hoping she'd be impressed with Graihagh, and indeed she looked pleased.

"Did she know?"

"She suspected, yes."

"Well." Minerva finished her tea and set the cup down. She was smiling. "I'll leave you two to yourselves. I should get back to the school anyway."

Snape walked her to the door. He was afraid she'd hug him again, but Minerva wasn't one for such effusive displays of affection. She shook his hand.

"Good luck with the start of term," said Snape. She would need it.

She gave him a wry smile. "The worst isn't it? We'll have to swap battle stories sometime."

"We will."

He closed the door behind her, wound the thread of memories onto his wand, and placed them back in his head. All but the worst of them.

Snape packed a bag with corned beef sandwiches, Walker's crisps and all their field equipment, and they spent the whole day outdoors, all over Britain, in marshes and forests and moors, stopping for a picnic lunch at Dunnet Head to compare notes and examine their specimens. He'd already filled six pages in his field journal.

They watched the sunset off the coast of Cumbria, the same beach he'd gone to to hunt sea anenomes the summer he was seventeen. He told her about it, and she told him about wading in the river Dhoo.

They stayed there a long time, until well after the sun had set, sometimes talking and sometimes quiet. She told him about young Selwyn, and about her mother. They'd start at small noises sometimes, wands raised, but mostly it was peaceful. One of the most peaceful days he'd ever had.

They had a late dinner of takeaway, vegetable stir-fry-Graihagh was on a health kick, apparently-and sat side-by-side on the sofa, Graihagh's legs tucked underneath her. The clock struck ten and she snuggled up beside him.

Now it was just awkward. He was too tired for sex, but he couldn't just say that, what would she think of him?

She stretched. "I could fall asleep right here. Think I'll turn in." She kissed his cheek and stood up. "'Night, Severus."

"I may as well go with you."

They changed into pyjamas and settled into bed together. Graihagh was asleep within minutes but there was a problem. She slept like a bloody eggbeater.

Snape made a complicated series of movements with his wand and the bed became a double. He couldn't just create things ex nihilo-that went against the laws of magic-but Spinner's End being all but abandoned there was plenty of raw material around.

There. That was better.

No sooner did he stretch out and enjoy the space than she flopped over and curled up next to him. Oh well. He didn't mind, much.

Rain was falling on the roof when he woke up. He turned on his side and listened and it was peaceful, cocooned here with Graihagh on rainy weekday morning. Must've been coming down hard though, it was rattling the window. No, not rattlling-something was tapping on the glass.

He opened the window and a brown and grey barn owl flew inside.

Graihagh sat up. "I heard the window open..." She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Grainne?"

"Yours?"

"Yeah, but..." She took the envelope from its beak and absently tapped its head with her free hand.

"Something wrong?"

She held the letter in one hand, staring at the window without seeing it. She screwed up her face the way she did sometimes, when she was trying to keep it in.

"Graihagh?"

She ripped the letter in two, crumpled it into pieces, tossed it onto the floor.

Snape sat down beside her. "Did something happen?"

She was beyond words. The growl was fierce and unrestrained, an animal sound from deep inside her. She rocked back and forth on the bed.

"That selfish-" She growled again. "I would've helped her. I offered to help her." She buried her face in the blanket and screamed.

"What is it?" he said again. He couldn't stand to see her like this, he had to do something.

Graihagh just rocked back and forth in the blanket, keening just softly enough for him to hear.

"My mother," she said, her voice muffled.

"How?"

"Overdose."

Snape wrapped his arms around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You didn't know her that well."

Graihagh didn't say anything to this, just cried harder. That was no comfort to her.

"Do you need anything?"

"Just stay with me."

He curled up against her and when she fell asleep he sat and stared at his shelves, blown away by the enormity of caring so much for another person.

Graihagh had the letter in her satchel.

Every morning for the past four months she'd slipped the letter in her pocket and carried it with her. She wasn't sure why. Maybe she was afraid the house would burn down and she'd never see it again.

She'd read through it once, when she started treatment. Her mother was the oldest of three. Her parents had high expectations of her, and they pushed her hard, but she was painfully shy, and a disappointment to them. She had no friends her first few years at Hogwarts. Then she met Bellatrix, at a duelling club. Bellatrix recognised her talent immediately, and the two became friends. They started learning all kinds of spells together-powerful ones, spells they didn't teach at school. They started using them on other students. For the first time in her life, she felt powerful.

The summer after she finished-the summer of '67, it was-she joined the Knights of Walpurgis. A new era was coming, they said. A new leader. He was going to change the world.

Bellatrix was still in school. She went to visit her that summer, at her families estate. Bella was excited. She wanted in. Her family had a dagger they said was untraceable.

They were going after vagrants, in those days. Beggars and addicts and the like. But Bella thought they could do better. She wanted to go after one of their politicians, a London city councillor. She liked the idea of going after someone untouchable. Graihagh's mother tried to talk her out of it-they were sure to get caught. But Bellatrix was persuasive. And so one night, after a few weeks of scouting, they went. Her mother coaxed him down a dark alleyway and Bellatrix captured him. Her mother could Apparate by then, and she brought them all to a wooded area not far from the Lestrange estate. Bellatrix practised the Cruciatus Curse-she was only sixteen, she couldn't do it that well yet-and then she killed him.

But her mother had been right. His disappearance did not go unnoticed. They were brought in for questioning by the authorities, Muggle and wizard alike. The body was discovered and they were put on trial. But there was not enough evidence.

Her mother didn't confess, she was too afraid of the Dementors. But she was so horrified by what she'd done she snapped her wand in half and ran away. She made it all the way to Liverpool before she ran short on money. She took odd jobs and started using on and off. She lived this way about a year, before she got clean, found part-time work, and moved into a hostel. She met Graihagh's dad when she got lost and walked into the auto repair shop he worked at to ask for directions. When he found out where she was living he invited her to come stay with him and it was the happiest time in her life. Graihagh was born about two years after they met.

She'd always had nightmares, but they were getting worse. She started taking pills to escape, but it only added to her guilt. After about a year, she left. She knew her dad would take good care of her, and that they'd be better off without her.

She didn't write about her life after that, but Graihagh knew enough to fill in the gaps. She'd finished with a simple message.

I've always loved you, and always will.

Graihagh had the letter in her satchel. She folded the paper just above these words, slid her hand three times along the crease. She tore off the bottom and put a charm on it so that it could never be destroyed and tucked it back inside. The rest of the letter she put in her pocket.

Severus was in the sitting room, reading a book. The light was dim in the east-facing windows. She'd slept most of the day.

Severus set his book down and stood up. "Everything alright?"

She pulled the remains of her mother's letter out of her pocket and clutched it in her hand. "There isn't anyone across the street, is there?"

"Not for the last five years."

"Come with me?"

Severus followed her out the door and into the street. The evening sky was cloudy, and everything looked blue.

Her grandmother had taught her this. Told her that whenever she was holding on to tightly to something, a grudge or a regret or whatever, she should write it down and rip it up. She pinched the top of the letter with two fingers and held it up to the sky.

"Incendio."

The letter burst into flames and she watched as the ashes scattered to the wind.

"There," she said. "Now she's free."

She didn't hide her face. She didn't have to. Severus took her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder until everything was out.

"Come upstairs with me," she whispered.

They went upstairs and got into bed and his body was her best comfort.

They spent the next day in the field again, foraging for herbs in the Forest of Dean. He didn't think she'd be up for it, but she was like him, she needed to keep her hands occupied to keep her mind at rest. They spent a peaceful afternoon together, right up until he tripped over a tree root and fell into the mud.

"Let's get you home," said Graihagh, and as soon as he'd taken off his muddy boots and set them by the door he went straight for the bath.

He'd just squeezed some shampoo on his hands when the door creaked open and Graihagh walked in, dressed in a short black housecoat that showed off her gorgeous legs.

"Mind if I join you?"

"The water's a bit dirty."

Stupid, stupid stupid. Leave it to him to kill the mood.

"I don't mind." Graihagh slipped out of her housecoat and stepped into the bath, her body so striking he could've taken her right there. Only there wasn't a lot of room.

She sat down behind him, stretching her legs out on either side and wrapping her arms around his waist. Severus lifted his soapy hand to his head.

"Let me," said Graihagh. She rubbed the soap in and worked it through his hair, massaging his scalp, running the long strands between her fingers. Snape closed his eyes. He'd never felt so close to anyone.

She ran her hands down his back, tracing patterns in his skin, resting her hand over the welts and scars. She bent down and kissed them. Ran her lips along his left arm and kissed his Dark Mark like an absolution.

"There," she murmured. She bent over the side of the tub for her wand and flicked it at the shower head-he'd had the plumbing disconnected ages ago, so all the taps were enchanted-and the water poured down over their heads, their bodies. He loved the feel of her wet skin against him. He turned and took her in his arms, kissing her lips as he stroked her back, her chest. The water made it different somehow, more intense.

"Sit up for me," said Graihagh. They switched places and he leaned against the back of the tub as Graihagh got on his lap and wrapped her legs around him. She was just about to guide him in when a jet of water landed right in his eye.

"You alright?"

"Yes," he said, groping for his wand. "I just need to turn the bloody water off."

There he went, killing the mood again. But Graihagh just laughed and kissed his jaw.

She eased him into her and rocked her hips as he thrust, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Come live with me?"

Snape squeezed her tighter and kept thrusting. "I don't know that I'm cut out for a tidy cottage by the sea."

"Well you're in luck because I don't live in anything remotely like that."

"How about a crumbling manor house...with a very high gate...and a ghost to scare the townsfolk away?"

Graihagh laughed against his shoulder. "You'll have to settle for a two-bedroom flat. At least for now."

"I think-" Snape thrust again. He was so close now, it was hard to talk-"I could..." He gasped and shuddered and shivered as the release took him, coursed through his whole body. "Take that into consideration," he breathed, when his head had cleared.

"Please do," said Graihagh, as he slipped his hand between her legs. "I'd love it if..." Her words were lost to heavy breathing, and she didn't speak again until she came with her head on his shoulder and murmured his name.

That night he had trouble sleeping. The last few days had been the happiest he'd known, but he didn't trust it. Didn't deserve it. He could go to that island of hers and live with her, and what? Something would go wrong, it always did.

He just didn't know. But he did know that he loved her. As much as it scared him, he loved her.