Chapter title from "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac

When Rhiannon awakened the next morning Severus had already gone to breakfast in the Great Hall, which was the norm. He'd scrawled instructions for her to research the technical aspects of both Occlumency and Apparition, as he felt both were more vital now than her regular studies. Much to her surprise he'd left little other direction, and Rhiannon planned to use the opportunity to explore some of the books on his shelves.

With the renewal of morning came a renewed sense of self for her, in a way. If Sirius was well and truly gone, then she was well and truly Snape's. And her last intimate moments with him had given her a taste of what his magic could produce. She wanted to know what he knew. She wanted to wrap herself in the study of the Dark Arts. Knowing it didn't necessarily mean being it. She could straddle the line, just as Severus did. Mastering it, appreciating it, but ultimately using her expertise for the power of the good. It was in her blood; it ought to come naturally.

Rhiannon enjoyed her croissant and jam with her quintessential cup of coffee, then she began perusing the titles on his shelves. There were hundreds, in all varying subjects, even Muggle literature, philosophy, and history. Given what Minerva had told her about his hatred for his Muggle father, she was a bit surprised, but she knew Severus's mind simply wanted to understand all facets of everything, which required Muggle knowledge as well as wizard.

She decided the titles she was looking for must be in more remote spots, so she dragged a chair over to reach the higher shelves. The volumes there were almost all black, old, and covered with dust. It must have been years since he'd actually studied them. Most of titles were so obscure she didn't even know where to start or what any of them would actually teach her.

Rhiannon nearly fell off of her standing perch when the door behind her creaked open. She felt like the proverbial kid caught with hand in the cookie jar, only she was the girl caught with a tattered, smelly old copy of a book entitled "Basic Blood Magick". The one who caught her was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Miss Aspenfell. I do hope you are well. If you are seeking assistance with a blood borne pathogen, I do suggest seeing Madame Pomfrey rather than trying to decipher that old tome. It is rather archaic and esoteric."

Rhiannon blushed and returned the volume to its shelf, then stepped down from her makeshift ladder. There was no way Dumbledore could have seen the faded book title from his distance across the room. He was reading her mind as easily as one would a neon Muggle billboard on the side of the road. Rhiannon made a note to remind Severus of the urgent need for Occlumency lessons. It needed to happen tonight. She was tired of these men having access to her private thoughts. In the meantime she threw up her own mental wall, imagining her stallion patronus charging at the old wizard head-on as a warning. Dumbledore met this image with an amused smile.

"You have a defiance in your eyes like your father's," he commented quietly. "When I met him nearly sixty years ago he immediately knew what I was doing and threw up shields. Interesting yours is your Patronus though. I'm not sure I've seen that approach before."

"I have my own way of doing things," Rhiannon replied simply, taking a seat on the sofa with a guarded stance, arms crossed and one leg over another. Dumbledore came over and helped himself to a seat in one of the highback chairs.

"I didn't intend to disturb you, though it may have been fortunate I did." He gave a pointed glance back to the highest of Snape's bookshelves. "I only wanted to deliver a message Professor Lupin brought to me today. Apparently it was too urgent for Owl Post."

Rhiannon's heart skipped. "Sirius."

"Indeed." Dumbledore held an ivory envelope in his hand but made no move to give it over just yet. Rhiannon noticed the blazing seal of House Black on the back and recognized the magic immediately as impenetrable, only capable of being broken by her own wand. The suspense was unbearable.

"What are the intentions of your heart these days, Miss Aspenfell? I'm afraid as adept as I am at reading minds, I tend to come up empty-handed when analyzing the heart."

Rhiannon leveled her gaze with his, rather disliking the blue twinkle she saw there. It seemed probing and condescending.

"Does it matter?" she responded sourly.

Dumbledore gave a slight shrug. "I feel you may be rather mismatched to the both of them," he assessed. "Too young, too wild. They are both thrilling to you but in such different ways. It isn't them so much though, is it? You like the depth of their magic, their experience, and the excitement that comes with their status, entanglements, and obligations. And you love their infatuation with you. It gives you power."

Rhiannon felt an anger blaze within her and she reached for her wand instinctively. Dumbledore gave a nonverbal Expelliarmus with barely so much as a move, and the wand hit the floor.

"You're wrong," she replied slowly, taking a breath, trying to calm herself. "I'm not sure why you think you know me, but you don't."

"How am I wrong?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"I am going to marry Severus. If he asks me," she added, realizing she wasn't sure if he actually had in any way— he'd just stated the whole thing as an inevitable fact.

"That sounds like something you're going to do, not how you feel. I'm not yet seeing where my assessment was incorrect."

"I loved them both. Love, them both. I care for Sirius and I always will. But Severus is where my future is."

"And why is that?"

Rhiannon looked at him skeptically. "YOU decided it for us, did you not?"

Dumbledore sighed. "The plans of the Order are just that. Roles we must play. At the end of the day the decision to love is our own. No one can take that from you. Or is it perhaps that a marriage mandate removes some unpleasant complexities? Or makes your inclination toward a certain path easier and less guilt-ridden by seeming to be beyond your own control?" His eyes drifted to the shelf of Dark Arts texts again, and Rhiannon hated what she saw there. She felt exposed and accused — he was insinuating things about her left and right, attaching intentions to her with no basis in fact other than her parentage.

"Look," she began, at the end of her patience. "I don't know what you think you know about me. But I assure you my feelings for both men are very real. If it were up to me I would love a double life, one with Sirius and one with Severus, in some alternate world where they could stand the thought of one another. I realize this isn't normal, but it's how I feel. And yes, I do love their power and their experience— what woman wouldn't? But I also love their flawed fragility— every imperfect piece of it, and I want to spend my life making them whole and putting them back together. So there— there is my heart, if you must know."

Rhiannon angrily wiped away a tear. The old wizard's face softened.

"I've always cared about you, you know," Dumbledore told her, his hands fidgeting somewhat as if he were embarrassed now that his own feelings were a topic of conversation. "Ever since you were born. The circumstances of your conception and birth were more than any child should have to bear, which is why I convinced your mother to hide them so thoroughly. You and Harry have been like the children I never had — always watching you from a distance though and never really knowing you. I understand you are likely angry that your hand was forced. But it helps to know that you do have some feelings for Severus. He deserves some happiness in this miserable double life I've forced him into."

"As does Sirius— in the miserable absence of a life you've forced him into."

"Point taken," Dumbledore admitted with a sad smile. "But I have to think there is hope for him yet, on the other side of it all. He is charismatic, handsome, well off and blessed with his family name. His options are truly endless, once his safety is assured. With Severus it's more difficult. He needs you, Rhiannon."

She nodded, wishing she could run to Severus and throw her arms around him. The knowledge that he could offer her so much yet still need her in equal proportion seemed to make the answer easy. It just didn't make the break with Sirius any less difficult. The thought of Sirius finding this other woman Dumbledore hinted at made her want to claw the unknown female's eyes out. Rhiannon was painfully aware of the double standard and wondered if Dumbledore was right; perhaps she was in love with their infatuation with her. The thought of losing it made her insane.

"I suppose you'll be wanting this." Dumbledore stood and finally handed her the letter, along with an affectionate pat on the back. "And some fatherly advice— if Severus hasn't touched the books in years, perhaps their content is not worth your time." He winked and disappeared.

Rhiannon wasted no time retrieving her wand to open the letter. She knew she could handle whatever was inside— she just needed to have some connection with Sirius again.

Rhiannon-

Remus has offered up his courier service so I can speak frankly and not in code, so I guess you get the real me here and not some damn dog. Just know I was never one for love letters. I was much more of a 'show my love by snogging in a broom closet kind of guy.'

At any rate, I'm sure you're wondering why I stood you up. Of course it wasn't because I didn't want you. It's because I wanted YOU. Here, with me. Not some weird spell. I'm still here if that's what you want too.

Remus broke the news of the Order's plans and the new development of your upcoming 'marriage'. I have a feeling you knew when I saw you last time and can't help but wonder why you wouldn't tell me something like that. We could have made a plan together to get you out of it. My offer to run away from all this shit still stands. But I am starting to wonder if you prefer the life they've put together for you over the life we dreamed of over the summer. Granted, it's a life I may never be able to give you anyway. Perhaps you're better off with Snivellus and the sure thing. Who the hell knows.

I love you, Rhiannon. Please come home one last time for Christmas and let me remind you.

Love (even in spite of it all),
Sirius Black

Well it wasn't scathing. But it wasn't overly affectionate. It was...well, Sirius. It didn't offer her any of the closure she was seeking, nor did it give her encouragement. It sounded as confused and sad as she herself was, and it seemed he'd at least partially written her off.

Rhiannon hadn't thought much of her plans for the winter holidays. The Yule Ball came first— her debut to Hogwarts and the greater wizarding world. It was a big deal, and had figured more prominently in her thoughts than Christmas at Grimmauld Place. How would her return there even work? Did that mean she and Severus would be apart for two weeks and spend Christmas away from one another? That undoubtedly meant he would spend Christmas alone— well, not exactly alone, but at the castle supervising any remaining students. Not with family or friends. The idea of being apart from him and only with Sirius seemed absurd with all that had transpired between them, but she doubted Severus was welcome at Grimmauld Place and doubted both of wizards would survive even a meal together, let alone two weeks. But she would have spent nearly four straight months with Snape at that point; two weeks resolving things with Sirius seemed only fair. Rhiannon resolved to discuss it with Severus when his mood seemed receptive again, whenever that may be.

"Resist," Snape barked at her for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"I can't," Rhiannon whispered. "Don't you think I'm trying?"

"Considering I just saw you lose your first tooth, get sorted into Thunderbird, wreck a Muggle car, and various flashes of Sirius Black's anatomy I would pay to never see again, no. I don't think your trying."

"Well, what should you be seeing? Aren't random insignificant details good? You said I needed to plant images and information in place of what my fath— the Dark Lord— is looking for."

"While I'd like to agree that Black is insignificant, I am still seeing your memories. They are not planted ideas. I could easily search and find more damaging things. Such as this..."

Severus's black eyes went cold and calculating and Rhiannon felt like her mind was being physically rifled through like a stack of papers. Involuntarily her mind went to her morning exploration of his Dark Arts texts— not just the fact that she'd tried to find them— but the emotion that came with it— the rush, the thrill, and the very thought that Lord Voldemort's blood ran through her veins. In a split second the Dark Lord would have known she was his daughter and the tides would have turned.

"How did you know to look for that?" Rhiannon asked him, exhausted.

"I simply searched for the truth of who you are. Something very general that the Dark Lord will most likely do, considering he is not entirely satisfied with the answers I have provided thus far. You can see it took virtually no effort to unlock the truth." Snape looked disappointed, both in her subpar occlumency skills and also in what he'd seen.

"Don't misunderstand me, though," he continued. "The feeling that I tapped into — your desire for darkness— we can yield that to our advantage. But you have to detach it from you father. Latch it onto me instead. Connect it to how you see me and our relationship to each other."

"But you're not dark, Severus. You haven't read those books in nearly a decade, I can tell."

"I don't need the books," Snape snapped. "I am the books. Living and breathing. Name a spell, any one of them, and you shall have it demonstrated for you before your pretty little mouth has a chance to scream."

Rhiannon shook her head. "I don't mean the knowledge. I mean your intent. You're tired. You don't want to do this anymore. You don't yearn for the power, because it no longer excites you. I can tell when I hold you, when I watch you sleep. You just want to be happy, and loved. But you have to understand that I want this knowledge that you have. And I know that I want it because it's in the very code of my being. Because of him."

"He cannot love you, Rhiannon. He cannot be a father to you. He's a shell of a person. Look what he did to your mother." Snape took steps to close the gap between them.

"It's not about love," she argued. "It's about making me great. Which he can do. He will want to do it."

"For what purpose? Do you want to become a Death Eater now?"

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "Of course not. But I want to be a powerful witch— in control of everything. You can't control that which you don't understand. And it's not that I really want it necessarily, it's just that the thought is there that I could, and you found it. I honestly don't know what I want."

Snape's face was in a hard scowl, but his touch was gentle as he raised a hand to her cheek. "I could have said the same thing when I was nineteen," he said, his voice emotionless. "Don't make the same mistakes I did."

Rhiannon knew he was right. And she'd meant what she said. The desire he saw in her mind was only a possibility. It wasn't an inevitability. Even her presence here at Hogwarts, in Britain, in their world, was still so new. Falling in and possibly out of love, finishing school, starting in this new "career" that had been thrown at her. She told herself it was normal to not know where to go next, and to crave every avenue available to her, especially one that promised the chance to become something more.

"You must trust me," Snape continued. "I will teach you what you need to know. And if you want to learn something, ask me. Don't let yourself be seduced by those who would exploit your power. I will help you achieve it and ask for nothing in return." The hand that had softly caressed her cheek now migrated to the back of her neck, his fingers lacing in her hair.

Rhiannon closed her eyes at their electric magic, still present, still overwhelming. She knew Snape meant every word. He had spent his entire life working for others and asking nothing in return, so much that he'd let his bitterness block out his ability to acknowledge his needs or ask someone to fulfill them.

The touch of his fingers only ignited Rhiannon's hunger for his mouth, her lips finding his in a kiss that she hoped would show him what she would give him in return— all of her. She wanted him to feel loved and wanted, to allow himself to relax and let go as he had in those first few moments after their bond had been formed. She knew it would take constant work to overcome his hang ups and knock down his walls, but he was worth it to her.

Severus broke his mouth free and muttered, "I hope you realize this doesn't dismiss you from Occlumency lessons, Miss Aspenfell."

"Damn it," she replied with a smile.