Chapter Title from "Say You Love Me" by Fleetwood Mac. Rated MA - dub/con warning.

Rhiannon followed Severus to his rooms rather morosely, already disliking the detached, floating sensation she felt as he separated her from her will. He was allowing her to feel the intense dislike purposely in order to punish her; she was fairly sure he could manipulate her perception too if he desired, but he clearly wanted to prove a point.

They moved swiftly to his bedroom, his fingers digging deeply into her upper arm.

"On the floor," Snape commanded, more for effect than anything else, as he had already sent her crashing onto it. Rhiannon began undressing herself automatically, shivering on the cold stone without the benefit of a fire. Her wand fell a few feet away from her, buried with the heaping skirts of her gown, useless to her of course. Snape left it there right within her reach, tempting her with the impossibility.

Behind the unsettling feeling was the knowledge that if he had simply made this about sex as she had originally requested, Rhiannon would be enjoying the hell out of herself right now. But he had humiliated her on one of the most important nights of her life— undermined her future authority with the students, and caused her fellow staff members to disapprove of her.

"The lesson to be had, my lovely, obedient whore, is that surrendering your mind is entirely different from surrendering your body. You must protect the mind at all costs and not allow it to be exploited. You want to ask a question?"

Rhiannon nodded meekly, and Snape permitted her voice to speak. "Will you be teaching me to defend against this?"

Snape crouched down to her level and pressed a kiss to her mouth. "Already regretting your decision, I see. Yes, my love, I will see to it you are never in this position again, as soon as I am finished." His eyes turned cold as stone as he stood once again, wand in hand. His height seemed to grow taller with the power he held, his whole stance triumphant and menacing as he took out his wand. Rhiannon felt the urge to beg, but he had silenced her once again.

Her helplessness was suddenly compounded as Snape added Legilimency into the mix, calling forth what felt like an entire library catalog of memories, each one featuring her and Sirius in some kind of compromising position. Her mind twisted to fight, but it was pointless. The memories he brought forward weren't just snippets of images like he normally saw during Occlumency lessons; no, these were full episodes like chapters in a smutty novel.

Snape took a seat on his bed and laid back, leaving her still cold and naked on the floor. Rhiannon wanted to cry, scream, even attack him— but she could only watch his reactions, mortified. He might as well have been watching porn, leaning back with a a tv remote in hand instead of a wand. She watched as his face contorted into an emotion that rode the fine line between disgust and pleasure, and he slowly unzipped his trousers, removing his swollen cock and attending to it with long, forceful strokes.

Rhiannon tried to look away but felt her face forcibly jerked forward. In her mind's eye she saw the marathon night following her and Sirius's engagement party, specifically the moment where he had grabbed her by her hair teasingly and pushed her down to suck him. It was the first and only time they had engaged in that particular act. Sirius was massive, a fact she was sure Snape took note of. She watched herself as if onscreen, her eyes closed, her tongue glistening as it glided over Sirius's hard member. Sirius's gasps and moans filled her ears, now mingling with Severus's as his strokes grew more hurried. The sound struck her ears more excruciatingly than that of shrieking mandrakes, and she wanted nothing more than to escape.

"On the bed," Snape's now ragged voice growled. Rhiannon barreled over quickly, almost tripping with the rapid pace he had commanded.

"Do it to me as you're doing it to him," he ordered. "Every detail the same."

Resistance was completely futile, so Rhiannon obeyed, tears stinging behind her eyes but unable to fall. It was so wrong, so sick, so devoid of any feeling. For the first time in her life she got no pleasure from the act, going through the motions until he and the mental image of Sirius both reached their completion. She could feel no love or desire for either of the men she adored— just emptiness. And exhaustion. As she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth she was suddenly aware that she had chosen to lift her hand— chosen to move back from him. Snape had released her. With that realization came the tears, finally, and she shook with her sobs.

"How could you do that to me, you sick fuck?!" Rhiannon screamed. "How could you even get pleasure out of seeing that? A man that I love and you hate?"

Snape's lips were in a tight line and he simply shrugged. "It's sex. I'm a man. It's not that complicated. And it was all for the purpose of showing you how dark the Dark Arts can be."

Rhiannon just stared at him, dumbfounded. "How dark you can be. I don't even know you."

A brief moment of panic flashed across Severus's face, but he erased it quickly and replaced it with his usual overcompensating confidence. "How many times have you pictured the three of us? Pictured yourself with me then him then me again? Pictured all of us together? I hardly think what just transpired was that different than what you imagine when you pleasure yourself."

"Just stop!" Rhiannon screamed. "How dare you turn this on me? It would be one thing to bring him up in the bedroom, tease me about it, make it a game for both of us to enjoy. But you violated me— stole my memory of him— every intimate detail. Against my will. And used it to fucking get off! It's sick, Severus."

"And so goes the spell you so desperately wanted to experience. I warned you."

"Can't you just say you're fucking sorry? Yes, I was stupid. I never should have asked. I never should have cracked open those damn books. But you never should have used it to hurt and violate me like this. I don't even know what to think about us anymore, Severus. Do you even love me? Or am I some fetish that you use to orgasm while one-upping Sirius Black?"

Snape sighed and pulled her to him. She tried to resist but he was too strong, plus she was freezing cold and needed his warmth. He lifted the duvet over her and cradled her at his side. But Rhiannon didn't want to feel comfortable with him, not after this.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "And to answer your question— I told you from the beginning that I'm a difficult man. And my hatred for Black is one of the things that makes me that way. Yes, I love you. Gods, it would be easier if I didn't, but I do. But loving you makes me hate him more, and I warned you also that dark wizards are different. Hate is a drug for us. What you saw just now was a manifestation of that hate and the high that it gives. You are correct— it is sick. And that is why I beg you to let me guide you through this experience with the Dark Arts, if you still insist on completing it. Don't become like me. It will destroy you."

Snape's voice was full of passion and ache, and he wore his agony on his face. Any other night Rhiannon would have melted into him as she tried to wipe it away. But not tonight. She turned to face away from him, and fell silently fell asleep.

Severus didn't sleep. He spent nearly two hours watching her beautiful form breathing softly next to him, aching to touch her, wishing he could take it all back. He had ruined what was supposed to be an incredible evening symbolizing her return to freedom and celebrating her new opportunities. He had embarrassed himself beyond repair; she would probably see him as a monster now any time he tried to be intimate with her. And he couldn't blame her.

It had started just like he said— as a way to teach her the brutality of the spell and of this type of magic in general. She hadn't been well. She'd lost weight, bore dark circles under her eyes, and talked obsessively about the subjects she'd absorbed from his uppermost shelves. Her zest for fun and jokes and playful sex had turned darker, belying an unnatural hunger he knew all too well from his experiences in the Dark Lord's ranks. And it had all happened so fast, in only a matter of weeks. Snape had wanted to stamp it out immediately, and his drastic actions had seemed like the solution at the time. He had wanted to show her what true exploitation looked like, using her vulnerability to feed his most sadistic desires. And of course his most basic desire was to possess her in every way, even to take her pleasures with Black and make them his own. He thought they would hurt less that way. He was wrong.

The winter holidays were only six days away at this point. Snape knew his behavior last night would drive her right back to Grimmauld Place, as if she'd had any reservations about going anyway. Of course it wouldn't be a pleasant experience for her— Potter had witnessed the kiss last night and would no doubt run straight to Sirius with the news. Even if Rhiannon were to convince Black to forgive her and let her back into his bed, her soul bond with Severus would cause her physical pain, mental anguish or both, in proportion to the gravity of her transgression if she attempted to consummate anything with him. That is, unless Severus granted his permission. The thought reviled him, but so did the prospect of causing Rhiannon more pain.

Snape eased himself out of bed and headed to the shower, hoping to erase some of this night in any way possible. As the hot water poured over his jet black hair he considered what to do next. The easiest answer was what Rhiannon had wanted all along— he should just go with her. Let her have her closure but make it unequivocally clear to everyone there that she was his. But he knew it was impossible. Black would try to kill him, which would mean he would have to kill Black. If they both survived the integrity of the Order would be compromised at the very least. Plus there was no way Severus could make nice with that many people for two straight weeks. He would hang himself out of misery.

No, he would have to let her go. But what if she didn't come back? What if his behavior tonight was the final straw, like calling Lily a Mudblood years ago?

Knowing sleep would continue to be elusive, Snape went to his office to catch up on grading papers. Probably his least favorite pastime, having to bide the stupidity and incompetence of students who largely couldn't be bothered to care about their grades in the first place. He kept up the drudgery until sunrise, looking up every few minutes once morning came, hoping to hear some signs of stirring back in his chambers.

She finally emerged wearing one of her more modest dresses, her hair secured in a demure braid, her hand grasped firmly around her wand. Her pace was determined as she passed through his office on the way to the dungeon exit.

Snape cleared his throat. "Rhiannon." No response. "Rhiannon, please." He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but it creeped in nonetheless. "Where are you going?"

The dungeon door slammed behind her, and Rhiannon walked out of her own free will, without his permission, for the first time in nearly four months.

Rhiannon eventually found her way to the Great Hall for breakfast, but it was much more confusing without Severus navigating. She was pleased that most students greeted her with a cheerful "good morning," seeming largely unphased by the spectacle they had witnessed at the previous night's ball. It wasn't the professional introduction she would have preferred, but perhaps a bit of snogging made her seem a bit more approachable. Her mood was already lifted just by seeing their faces.

The beautiful red-haired seventh year was her first encounter upon reaching the Great Hall, Rhiannon arriving just as the girl slipped gracefully into her seat at the Slytherin table.

"Good morning, Professor," the girl greeted her with a smile, lifting an apple to her lips seductively and turning so her long legs peeked out from under the table.

Rhiannon smiled back. "I don't believe we've been formally introduced."

"Fiona Allyne," the girl replied. "If you require an assistant to help you get settled in next semester, please keep me in mind. You'll find I have a rather...diverse skill set."

"I'll keep that in mind, Miss Allyne." Rhiannon felt the girl's sexual intensity - much like her own- like she had just talked to a version of herself with Lily's fiery red hair. No wonder Severus had chosen her for his dancing partner.

Rhiannon frowned and made her way to the staff table, resolving to talk to anyone who could keep her mind from wandering to Snape. He'd wounded her so deeply she didn't know how she would ever feel safe with him again.

She realized her plan to eat in the Great Hall was flawed in that Dumbledore had not assigned her a seat yet, but a seat was open between Professor Trelawney and a regal looking female professor with long, violet-black hair. It appeared safe enough, plus she wanted to ask Trelawney for clarification on the statement she'd made last night. Rhiannon was grateful to see no sign of Umbridge just yet.

"Morning, Professor Aspenfell," Trelawney greeted her, gnawing rather indelicately on a breakfast sausage.

"Good morning," Rhiannon returned, nodding also to the other witch, who raised a cool stare to her. "I don't believe we've met?" Rhiannon continued, extending a hand to her.

"Septima Vector. Arithmancy." The reply was curt and unmistakably icy.

"Nice to meet you," Rhiannon said hesitantly, turning to Trelawney as she helped herself to foods from the generous platter of breakfast offerings. "Professor Trelawney, would you mind expanding a bit on what you told me last night?"

The woman blinked, her eyes wide behind her spectacles. "What, dear? Oh yes, nice weather today, for December. Quite pleasant."

Well, that was pointless.

"So how are you enjoying the snake bed?" the other professor asked her so quietly Rhiannon could barely hear.

Rhiannon's fork paused in route to her mouth. "I beg your pardon?"

Professor Vector raised an eyebrow. "Hmm? Oh, well I've just always heard it's quite the experience. Forgive my curiosity."

Rhiannon gave up and focused on her eggs and toast. She hoped her permanent seat might be somewhere different. It was going to be harder to adjust than she'd thought.

For a moment she was instinctively grateful to see the familiar black figure swoop into the room, until his eyes locked on her and she saw the guilt and pain there.

He has no right to be in pain, Rhiannon thought darkly.

Five days remained until she could leave for Grimmauld Place, and it could not come fast enough. The woven gold band had found its way to her left hand once again, even if only for the purpose of trying to recapture the feelings she'd allowed herself to forget.

"Professor Aspenfell?"

Rhiannon jumped, relieved to see it was only Dumbledore behind her. Severus had taken his seat at the opposite end of the table, his eyes burning a hole through her as her chewed.

"Morning, Headmaster."

"I'm grateful for your impromptu arrival this morning," Dumbledore continued. "It reminds me I need to rearrange the staff table and find you a seat. I'm sure you'll want to be next to Severus, so I will ask Professor McGonagall to move."

"That's not necessary, Headmaster."

"Oh it's no trouble," he insisted. "In fact Minerva is tending to an indiscretion that arose with a couple of her Gryffindors after last night's ball. Why don't you move over there now?" It was the classic Dumbledore order-disguised-as-a-polite-suggestion.

Rhiannon sighed and moved her plate to her new assigned seat, never meeting Severus's gaze.

"Rhiannon, I—..."

"Save it, Severus," she snapped.

"Let me apologize," he said tersely.

"You can apologize for stepping on my toe, Severus. For snoring all night long. For forgetting my birthday. You can't apologize for what you did to me last night."

"I would never forget your birthday."

Rhiannon groaned, hiding her face in her hands. She felt him immediately grasp her left one, examining her finger.

"Well, well, that didn't take much time, did it? The minute things get rough, you run right back like a good little pup. I'm sure he will be wagging his tail with delight."

"God, you're so mean!" she hissed. "And to think I pitied you for all these people who are either so terrified of you or just don't want anything to do with you. I pity them now, for having to suffer your abuse for all these years. I'm just glad you showed me how you truly are before it's too late."

"It is too late," Snape responded quietly. "We're bonded together."

Rhiannon paused. In her anger she had completely forgotten that part. "It's no matter," she said with a shrug. "I'll find a way to break it. I can make diamonds from tears — breaking a soul bond should be a piece of cake. I just have to study, and practice."

Snape let out a chuckle. "Yes, let me know how that goes. Perhaps you'll figure it out so we don't have to be bonded by the time our next life rolls around. In the meantime, I will be working to win your forgiveness and show you that I love you so that we can make this existence pleasurable at best and tolerable at worst."

Rhiannon shook her head. "Stop trying to minimize this."

"I'm not minimizing. I know full well the gravity of my mistake. But I need you to understand why I formed the ill-conceived notion in the first place. I had to end your affair with the Dark Arts. Full stop. I will find some way to share you with Black if I must, but I refuse to share you with the Dark Lord's army. I will die before I lose you to them. Do you understand me?"

Rhiannon glanced around nervously but was surprised to see the other staff eating and conversing like normal. Snape must have put a silencing charm around them. A big part of her felt he was rationalizing an act too horrendous to chase away with reason, but she did inwardly acknowledge that she'd opened the door to it by her insistence on learning the dark spell. Still, the fact that he was even capable of behaving that way and reaching climax over it was a problem.

"Look, Severus. It's just going to take me some time okay? And two weeks at Grimmauld Place gives me time— so I'm going. And I need you to agree to two conditions." Now that she had the upper hand, she figured she should take advantage.

"Yes?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised.

"You will grant me clear permission, in spite of our bond, to finalize my relationship with Sirius in whatever way I see fit. Secondly, you will grant access to your private potion brewing room so that I can make contraceptive potions before I go."

Snape drew in a sharp sigh, digging into his food repeatedly with his knife as he considered her requests. "Fine. But I have my own request."

Rhiannon waited. His eyes were still fixed to his plate as if he were scared to look at her.

"I want to be with you one more time before you go."

She shook her head. "I can't, Severus. Not now, not after last night. I need time."

He finally raised his eyes to hers— they looked exhausted from lack of sleep and the pain he was clearly feeling. "Last night is exactly why I need you to say yes. I can't have my last memory of you being what took place between us last night. I would lose my mind."

"Last memory? Severus, I'm coming back. The Order has put us together. We entered a soul bond. And...I...I love you. There is no choice to be made here. I'm sorry I said all that just now. But I have to work through everything before I can be with you again. You just have to give me time."

Snape looked away again and she couldn't quite believe the anguish on his face, and that he was revealing it in the Great Hall of all places. She scanned the crowd once more. The only people who seemed aware of their intense conversation were Hermione, Ron, and Harry, the latter giving her a scathing look from the Gryffindor table. She didn't remember ever seeing such severe hatred directed at her before. He seemed even more protective of his godfather than Sirius was of him.

"Excuse me, Severus," Rhiannon mumbled, hopping up. She wasn't quite used to the freedom of moving about the castle and speaking to whomever she pleased; it felt a little odd, but she knew she needed to clear the air before Christmas.

"May I have a word, Mr. Potter?" she asked, bravely trying out her professorial tone for the first time. It sounded strangely like Snape's and she wasn't sure she liked it. Harry didn't either.

"I think I will decline, Professor. But thank you."

Ron snickered. Hermione looked from Harry to Rhiannon awkwardly, not seeming angry with the situation but just wishing it would go away.

"Mr. Potter, it's urgent. Please follow me."

At that moment Dolores Umbridge appeared, none too happy to see her new protégé talking to Harry Potter.

"And what do we have here?" Umbridge demanded.

"Nothing, Professor," Harry said quickly. "We were just congratulating Professor Aspenfell on her new position."

Rhiannon pursed her lips and left the Great Hall with a polite nod to Dolores, annoyed that an insufferable teenager could be jeopardizing her winter holiday plans. She needed to make him understand everything— the curse, the arranged marriage, and that her love for Sirius wasn't dead, only complicated.

Rather than return to the dungeons, Rhiannon opted for the fresh air, even though she was only in a dress with no coat or outer robes. The December air greeted her with a rush as she made her way to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds, the rolling hills beckoning in the distance. When she reached a picturesque spot she laid upon the ground, letting the sun warm her face for the first time since she'd snuck out to the Forbidden Forest weeks ago. Luckily there was no snow on that unseasonable day, so she was able to be one with the earth for a few glorious moments before the chill got the better of her. She was grateful to be free from the dungeon darkness; things didn't seem so heavy in the light of day.

Simply having the freedom to move now had to make things better. She wouldn't be stuck under Snape's thumb, and better able to decide if she loved him in actuality, or only because she had been left with no choice. She realized after hearing his impassioned pleas for her forgiveness that there was no doubt as to his feelings for her; he seemed to love her desperately, as he had Lily, and seemed haunted by the prospect of damaging this love beyond repair as he had done with her.

Rhiannon felt a strange connection to the deceased woman from Severus's past. Lily Potter was the only woman who had ever known this feeling of loving him in spite of his darkness, though she'd ultimately found it to be too much.

But Lily wasn't dark herself, Rhiannon thought. Perhaps Rhiannon and Severus needed each other— to save them both from themselves.