Chapter Title from "I'm So Afraid" by Fleetwood Mac

The summons had come hard and fast, just past midnight. Severus had kept his reaction to a minimum so not to disturb Rhiannon, who slept beneath his arm. He wasn't surprised in the least. Hogsmeade had many eyes, and he'd taken her there because deep down he wanted to get it over with, now that they had secured their plan. The faster he informed the Dark Lord, the sooner they could actually live instead of just plan and wonder.

"So I see you wasted no time in finding her, my faithful servant," Voldemort snickered. "Galavanting around Hogsmeade with her on your arm? Letting her tease you in a booth at The Three Broomsticks? What has gotten into you, Severus?"

"She has, my Lord. But I assure you her submission to me is complete. The girl willingly gives herself over to my every command."

Voldemort cackled this time. "Well isn't that fortunate for you? Let me see some of this...submission."

Severus tried not to wretch at the knowledge of Voldemort's connection to Rhiannon and instead pretended she was simply any other woman. He tentatively uncovered his memories from the night before, allowing the Dark Lord to see their games, but altering them slightly with a tinge of anger and a zeal for power on his part. He blocked every shred of love and replaced it instead with control.

The Dark Lord released his mind with a triumphant grin. "Can the poor thing walk?" he asked with a sickening laugh.

"No idea," Severus replied dryly. "She passed out almost immediately afterward from pain and exhaustion."

"Well, who is she?" Voldemort demanded impatiently. "Who could possibly be so important that you instantly decided she should be kept under your thumb as your whore?"

"Dumbledore has hired her as a professor, joining Hogwarts for second term," Snape answered. "His interest in her seems purely academic at this point— wanting to add a flashy new name to the staff roster. As he did with the insufferable Gilderoy Lockhart several years ago. Her name is Rhiannon Aspenfell, and she seems popular on the international book circuit. Wrote a book and will be teaching on 'practical magic.'"

"Practical magic?" Voldemort scoffed. "Elementary children in wizarding families can do as much. What exactly will she be teaching?"

"Well, I imagine the class is mostly for the benefit of Muggleborns," Severus began hesitantly, "And children of families who regrettably have allowed Muggle ways to infiltrate their day to day routines."

"And Dumbledore thinks this is necessary?" Voldemort asked incredulously. "Doesn't he worship Muggle ways?"

"Yes and no, my Lord. He is quite clear that Muggleborns and half-bloods are to be respected and welcomed at Hogwarts, but he does firmly believe that magical means are superior and must be preserved. He has also charged her with educating the students on...continuing magical bloodlines...shall we say...a task of which the Ministry fully approves."

"Sex education at Hogwarts? Sanctioned by Dumbledore? The old perv. Though we know his own proclivities never lended themselves to bloodlines," The Dark Lord snickered. Then his face turned serious again. "The girl had this. Don't think I've forgotten, Severus." He held the talisman once again, dangling from his bony finger.

"I do feel it was a coincidence, my Lord. I inquired as to the nature of the trinket but it appears her memories of it were obliviated upon attack."

"Fucking idiot, Platov," Voldemort muttered. "I think I will add him to Nagini's dinner menu. But I don't believe in coincidence, Severus, not when Dumbledore is involved. You will discover the connection."

"Of course, my Lord, which is why, as you said, I was so quick to bring her under my wing. She will be under my constant surveillance, and I will have access to her to use legilimency if necessary and discover if Dumbledore is using her for nefarious purposes."

Voldemort seemed satisfied enough, but Snape knew better than to feel relief just yet. He stroked Nagini thoughtfully.

"You will bring her here with you next summons. I want to assess her suitability to join our ranks."

Snape swallowed. "With all due respect, my Lord, I do not want to frighten her by bringing her into our fold too soon. I want her to fall in love with the Dark Arts as I did, a slow burn, not be forced into them against her will."

Voldemort smirked. "She seemed awfully content with snakes in her fuck-bed— I think her love for the Dark Arts is already advanced enough, don't you?"

"I respectively request that you trust my methods of initiation," Snape insisted. "I am confident that they will ensure her ultimate loyalty."

"Very well," Voldemort sighed. "But I will let you in on a secret— the gang is getting back together," he told Severus gleefully. "I am working on plans to release my most faithful followers from Azkaban within a few weeks. They will be hungry when they return— be prepared to share your little snack if asked."

"My Lord, I hope I will honor you with my faithful service such that you will permit me to lay sole claim to the girl. It is my intent to marry her." Severus bowed his head reverently, trying to ignore the fear that was gnawing at him.

"Marry your whore?" Voldemort asked, disgusted.

"She only acts a whore in the bedroom, my Lord, and only because I command her to do so. She is otherwise an accomplished witch and a professional colleague. She will serve our cause well as a Death Eater wife and a ranking member, not a concubine."

"I will be the judge of that, when you permit me to meet her," Voldemort spat.

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you for your consideration and generosity. I will not disappoint you, nor will she."

"You will not, or the consequences will be severe, indeed. Now leave my sight, Severus, and ascertain Dumbledore's true intent— not all of this fluff he is hiding behind."

"Yes, my Lord."

"And Severus? Take this to the girl." Voldemort held the leather trinket in his outstretched hand. "See if it knocks her memory suddenly loose. Or if she somehow taps into its power. But I expect it back promptly. If it leaves your charge, or falls into Dumbledore's hands, I will kill you, and the whore. I don't take well to thieves."

Snape nodded solemnly and slipped Rhiannon's mother's enchanted bauble into the pocket of his robes. He felt it strike against something else as it landed— Rhiannon's engagement ring from Sirius Black. He'd taken it what seemed like ages ago and she had yet to ask for it back.

As he trekked back to the castle in the cold, damp night, Snape found himself wondering if she had followed through with sending Black the potion they'd brewed the night he took it from her. Not that he could fault her if she had; he had given her full permission. What else could he do? He couldn't claim to love her and stand idly by knowing half of her heart went unfulfilled. He would rather have control of the situation somehow than constantly wonder where her wistful thoughts of Black were taking her. If he allowed her to satisfy them, then he could feel secure knowing when she was with him, she was truly his.

Couldn't he?

Snape hated this. He hated Black, with every fiber of his being. He hated himself for not being enough Rhiannon, for not being enough for Lily. His self-loathing would never change, even with a beautiful witch in his bed who had just professed her love for him, uttering the words he had never heard from anyone before, that he could recall.

And he had returned the words. He hadn't intended to, not yet, if ever. Snape felt his face flush as he re-entered the castle and ascended the stairs to Dumbledore's office. Only an idiot would say something like that knowing she also loved someone else. But it had just happened, as such things did where Rhiannon was concerned.

"Ah, Severus. I trust you bring good news, since you remain in one piece." Dumbledore's voice greeted him upon reaching his office. Did the man ever sleep?

My love— I am sure you are wondering why I chose to send this potion to you. Since I have to be so careful with my words I can't really explain. Just use it at 9:00 p.m. Monday night. Use it for, umm, "arousal" if you will. Be sure it's precisely 9:00 p.m. and you must say out loud that you want me. Trust me— it will be one of your greatest adventures yet.

Yours,
R.A.

What the hell? Sirius wondered, staring at the thick, scarlet liquid. He was tempted to try it out now. He was never one for patience, or rules. But from the very beginning he had declared that Rhiannon was worth the wait, and that hadn't changed. He did wonder why the hell Snivellus had her brewing aphrodisiacs down in his dungeons.

Probably because he'll need them if he is to have any hope of bedding his wife, Sirius thought bitterly.

Thus far, the Order had honored his wishes and Snape was not at the last meeting, though Sirius was beginning to regret the request. He would like the excuse to see him so he could throw a Muggle punch in his hook-nosed face.

Molly and Arthur decided to join him for dinner Monday evening, and Sirius tried to keep conversation to a minimum to avoid a late night. He was positively bursting to understand exactly what Rhiannon's letter meant. His leg bounced up and down frantically.

"You okay there, Sirius?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, just tired."

"How can you be tired sitting around here all day? We brought some games— figured we'd stay late tonight and keep you company. Even found a couple Muggle ones. You ever heard of Scrabble?" Arthur leaned forward eagerly, way too excited about a game of Scrabble.

"Arthur, I —.." Sirius was interrupted by Remus, who had let himself in.

"Sorry I'm late," the latter apologized. "Dora was having trouble with her broom, asked me to stop and take a look. Seemed like someone jinxed it, but it must have been temporary because I couldn't find any trace."

Sirius and Arthur exchanged amused glances but nodded.

"Let me guess, you're here for Scrabble?" Sirius asked hesitantly.

"Of course, my friend. We thought you could use some company."

"That seems to be the general consensus," Sirius muttered.

"Something wrong, Sirius?"

Sirius could hear that Molly was busy in the kitchens downstairs, so dinner seemed to be at least a few minutes away. He ran to the library to retrieve Rhiannon's letter and the mysterious bottle, bringing it back to his friends in the dining room.

"It appears I have an engagement tonight, boys. Although I'm not exactly sure the nature of it."

Arthur examined the bottle while Remus perused the letter, then they switched. Remus immediately took an academic approach, unstopping the bottle to lift it to his keen wolf nose. His brow furrowed.

"This is Eros Absentia, Sirius."

"And how the hell do you know that?" Sirius asked, taking a sniff of it himself.

"More importantly, what the hell is it?" Arthur added.

"Answer Number One- I was a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. And one who recently spent weeks in the voodoo capital of the world. Answer Number Two- it's a sex potion that allows for astral projection of one's body for the purpose of satisfying an absent lover."

Sirius slapped the table in front of him. "Sorry boys, Scrabble is going to have to wait for another night."

"Now hold on, Sirius," Remus interjected. "This is dark. The fact that she sent this to you speaks of a whole host of warning signs— her black magic upbringing and the darkness in her blood, obviously, but also that she's undoubtedly under the influence of Snape. This is the kind of desperate, obsessive magic that is classic Snivellus."

"I don't know, Remus, it could all just be in good fun," Arthur offered kindly.

"What's all in good fun?" Molly piped up, bringing a platter of roast hen and root vegetables into the dining room.

"Sex with astral spirits, dear," Arthur replied as if he were still talking about a game of Scrabble.

Molly looked sharply to Sirius, then Remus, then back to Sirius again. "Which one of you dogs do I need talk some sense into now? I swear the two of you and James, always getting into trouble. No good can come from messing with any of this, you mark my words."

"It's not an astral spirit, Molly, it's Rhiannon," Sirius sighed. "Remus just likes to be dramatic."

"Pragmatic," Remus corrected. "I know enough about the Dark Arts to be wary of unlocking any portals or opening any gateways to soul or spirit magic. Sirius would do well to destroy this bottle and stay far away."

"And turn down an opportunity to do something other than stare at these peeling walls? Listen to Kreacher whine and my mother's portrait scream? I'm going mad. Rhiannon's given me an opportunity to be with her so I'm going to take it. It means she is still thinking of me...still wanting me...ME...and not Snape."

Molly looked at him sympathetically, spooning an extra portion on his plate as if it would help ease his pain.

"Sirius, if we use sadness and loneliness as an excuse to dance with the Dark Arts than we're no better than Death Eaters," Remus pleaded. "They were all just normal people too at one point, manipulated and tempted by powers preying on their weaknesses. I beg you to see reason. Write her a letter. I'll deliver it personally to Hogwarts tomorrow, so you can say anything you like. No code needed. Tell her you only want to be with her. The real, living, breathing woman that you love. Not some half empty vision. Ask her to come home for Christmas."

"And what of tonight?" Sirius ran his hand through his hair and fidgeted with his dinner knife, nervous energy flowing through him as it always did whenever he felt especially trapped. "She is expecting me in less than an hour. What happens when I'm not there? Either her heart breaks or she gets fucking pissed off— either possibility landing her straight in Snivellus's bed instead of mine."

Molly frowned and laid a motherly hand on his arm. "Sirius, Severus is to be her husband next year. It will happen eventually. You are going to have to let her go. It might as well be now. I wouldn't even muddy the waters again trying to see her at Christmas."

"Now, Molly, let's not go that far." Arthur chimed in. "There's always hope. Any number of things could change before the summer. And Rhiannon and Sirius are in love. What's an arranged marriage compared to that?"

"Dumbledore said..."

"Fuck Dumbledore!" Sirius stood up so fast he nearly flipped his plate. "I am done with his games. I want my family back with me — now. That includes Harry. Voldemort is invading his mind. Dolores Umbridge is quite literally torturing him in detention. He needs protection. You all expect me to sit back and trust Dumbledore— while Dumbledore does nothing! Playing matchmaker for the dungeon bat, to keep him happy so he doesn't kill him in his sleep. 'Get Severus laid so he'll keep reporting Voldemort's every move without complaint or betrayal!' Never mind the lady in question is already promised to another— whom he stood in this very house and regaled with praise and blessings. I am fucking done!"

Sweat was pouring from Sirius and he struggled to breathe. It was a phenomenon that plagued him in Azkaban. He would get so worked up with anxiety and anger that his body involuntarily panicked. Remus grasped his shoulders and returned him to his seat.

"Sirius, she is driving you mad," Remus whispered.

"Everything is driving me mad! You don't understand! You haven't spent your entire life shuffled from one prison to another. From my parents' house, to Azkaban, and back again. My years with James were my only taste of life until Harry and Rhiannon, and now both are out of my grasp."

"We all have our own prisons," Remus responded quietly.

"Yes, and you take Snivellus's magic potion once a month and make yours tolerable. Snivellus Snape, everyone's goddamn hero!"

Sirius's blood was pounding in his veins and he felt murderous. His blazing eyes fell on the ruby red potion bottle still sitting on the dining room table. He snatched it and hurled it toward the fireplace, sending the syrupy liquid oozing down the ebony wood onto the floor. Droplets hit the fire and ignited sparks in the air. Sirius could have sworn for a brief moment he saw Rhiannon's sad eyes in the flames, but he dismissed the thought as more mad delusion.

"Write the letter," Remus coaxed gently. "I will see she has it before lunch tomorrow."

It seemed like hours went by as Sirius stared at the blank parchment before him. Molly and Arthur went to work cleaning the dishes, but not without one last attempt at game night by Arthur. Remus ushered them away and stood guard at one end of the dining room, giving Sirius his space but also watching to make sure he didn't do anything rash or destructive.

Sirius buried his head in hands as the grandfather clock struck 9:00. The thought of Rhiannon waiting for him, alone, ready for whatever blissful insanity she had planned for them was pure agony.

"Write it, Sirius. Write what you feel. Then seal it with impenetrable magic— a spell only she can break. I won't be able read your words; there will be no judgment." Remus was still pleading with him as if he were a child sulking in the corner.

"You admit there would be judgment otherwise," Sirius said sourly. "You hate her. You have from the beginning."

"Hate is a strong word, Sirius. I'm simply wary of her, is all. She isn't a bad person, but she is a wild card. We cannot afford to have those in these trying times. We must always have a plan and must faithfully stick to it, unblinded by emotion."

"To live without emotion is to die," Sirius replied sullenly.

Remus gave a small smile. "Look at you, waxing philosophical. Begin your letter with that if you must, but begin it. Now."

Sirius took a deep breath and lifted the quill.

9:27 p.m. It was clear Sirius would not be joining her. Rhiannon wore a silk nightgown under a sheer robe, her hair loose and falling to her waist, seated upon the gold brocade of her bed. Every two minutes she went through the motions of beginning the spell, only to receive an empty energy in return. Her first thought had been terror— had something happened to him? Dementors had attacked Harry— had they found Sirius's hiding spot and attacked him as well? Had her father orchestrated something? Had Sirius finally gone mad and harmed himself?

The more Rhiannon's mind tossed around the possibilities, the greater her certainty grew that he was fine, and that she was dealing with a change of heart rather than physical peril. Word of the Order's arrangement for her and Snape must have gotten back to him by now. He was probably furious with her and wanted nothing to do with her. How could she blame him? She understood, but it did nothing to stop her tears from falling.

Snape had conveniently decided he would work late in the library that night, so Rhiannon hadn't even needed to make an excuse for her scheduled union with Sirius. She knew Snape had to at least suspect, after giving his permission for it to happen, and she was sure he was purposely giving her space until he knew for certain.

Rhiannon used the solitude of the dungeons to weep openly, knowing she had to find a way to let Sirius go. They were no longer the same people they were when they had fallen in love over the summer. Between the demands of the greater wizarding war, the revelations of the past, Sirius's descent into depression, and Rhiannon's own growth as a witch and her burgeoning love for Severus— everything had changed. She was foolish to assume Sirius would jump at the chance for a thrill, but she'd simply wanted to recapture the uncomplicated, playful excitement of loving him, even if just for a few moments.

Unable to remain in the pain of her own thoughts, Rhiannon ventured to the living room and opened the cabinet where Severus kept his basic potion stores. He didn't keep them locked or under a protective spell, so she assumed he wouldn't mind if she helped herself to a Sleeping Draught. As she lifted it to her lips, the soft click of the door signaled his return. She froze guiltily as he studied her.

"I take it it did not go as you hoped?" Severus shut the door behind him and removed his outer jacket and boots, leaving only his white shirt and trousers. He had started divesting himself of them sooner upon entering their shared space, indicating his growing comfort with her.

"I suppose you are happy to hear that," Rhiannon replied quietly, trying her best not to let her hurt translate into anger with Severus.

Snape sighed and took a book from his shelf before sitting in front of the fire. He held an arm out to her, indicating for her to join him. She hesitated, but put the stopper back into the sleeping draught and consented to join him.

"I am happy to hear that one more night will pass without me having to share you with him," Snape answered. "I am happy that he may be suffering. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. I detest him in every possible way. But I will never be happy to see you cry. And I wish I was enough to make your tears disappear."

Rhiannon's eyes filled again, and he pulled her to him awkwardly. It was the perfect answer. Incredibly honest, incredibly full of love, and full of a vulnerability she'd never expected to hear from Severus Snape. Her tears flowed onto the crisp, smooth linen of his shirt, and he reached his thumb up to wipe away the remainder.

"I have something I want to read you," he told her once she had quieted. "This is a book I was reading at my home at Spinner's End the day the Order met to announce your arrival. It may be coincidence, but it's interesting nonetheless."

He continued, "The ancient Welsh tales of the Mabinogion tell the story of a goddess named Rhiannon, often thought to be a horse goddess in a similar vein to the Gaulish goddess Epona. Her beauty and intelligence were unrivaled, and though she was already betrothed, she willfully chose to marry another. Her life in the coming years was marked by suffering and penance, which she bore with grace and forgiveness to those who had wronged her."

"The book we took from Grimmauld Place the day we departed from Hogwarts also includes this: Rhiannon's companion creatures were three birds known as the Adar Rhiannon, which were believed to have the ability to put the living to sleep and to awaken the dead."

"My birds," Rhiannon said thoughtfully. "They are at Grimmauld Place. There are three of them— emerald, gold, and white."

"Was this the first time they came to you? Or did you have them with you in New Orleans as well?"

Rhiannon shook her head. "No. They came after the first night Sirius and I...well..."

Snape held up a hand. "I was not aware you actually had such birds. However I was intrigued by their ability to bring one back from the dead. It's similar to the talisman your mother crafted for the Dark Lord." He stood and reached into the pocket of his discarded robes, then dropped the necklace into her hand.

Rhiannon gasped, her hand flying to her neck. "Severus? How did you—..."

"It's not yours," he said sternly. "It belongs to the Dark Lord, and it will be returned to him upon my next summons, upon threat of death."

"It most certainly does not belong to him," Rhiannon replied haughtily. "It was my mother's, and apparently she meant nothing to him, so he doesn't deserve to even look upon this."

"Agreed, but that does not matter. He wanted you to see it again, to see if you could feel its power. He and I feel no energy from the trinket."

"Well of course you don't. You're not facing death. Same as the birds right now are just birds. We wouldn't know if they have any significance unless they are needed."

"Did your mother ever tell you the significance of your name? Of hers?"

Rhiannon laughed and laced her fingers with his playfully. "Are you asking if I'm a goddess, Severus Snape?"

He didn't answer, still waiting for her to address his question.

"My mom liked the song," she said with a shrug.

"There's a song?"

Rhiannon looked at him, perplexed. "Weren't you like the same age as my mom? Sirius knew it."

"Ah, a Muggle song." Snape rolled his eyes. "Black and I hardly had the same musical tastes."

"Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night and wouldn't you love to love her? Takes to the sky like a bird in flight and who will be her lover?" Rhiannon wasn't the best singer in the world, but she typically did all right.

"Seems appropriate," Snape muttered. "On several levels."

"Yeah, I guess it does. I'm not sure I follow what you're implying with all of this though, Severus. Is it supposed to mean something?"

"I have no idea. Just a lot of information landing in one place all at one time. I am curious about the birds though. Why did you leave them at Grimmauld Place?"

Rhiannon sighed and stared into the dancing flames of the fire. "I thought they would make Sirius happy. Anything to keep him company or lift his spirits."

"I think you need to get them back," Snape advised. "They could be a weapon."

Rhiannon made a face. "That's a horrible way to think about them. They are beautiful."

"And if their magical abilities hold true, they could save a lot of lives in the months to come. Instead of wasting away with Sirius Black." Severus massaged his own neck tiredly. Rhiannon hadn't even realized he'd been summoned to Voldemort last night until he'd shown her mother's gris gris just now.

"You need to rest, Severus. Welsh fairytales can wait for another day, can they not?"

He nodded in agreement, then remembered the other item he'd removed from his robes. "Thought you may be missing this." He dropped Sirius's ring into her hand. Rhiannon felt it drop like it weighed thirty times more than it did, so heavy was the feeling that came with it.

"I can't wear it," she spoke aloud, more to herself than to him.

"I'm happy to hear that," Snape replied. "But it is yours to keep or to give back, nevertheless."

Rhiannon nodded. "I want to sleep in my own bed tonight." They hadn't really discussed if sleeping arrangements would change after their words to one another last night, but she felt she needed her own space for awhile. The pain over Sirius was too fresh and raw, and she needed room to work through it.

"Very well." Snape placed a brief, passionless kiss on her lips, a clear message he was there but that he would not muddy the waters further until she was ready. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful or sad. Honestly she wasn't sure of anything anymore.