Chapter Title from "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac
Snape's personal potion brewing room was more like a closet. In fact that's probably what the room's original intent was, as it was next to his bedroom. He had created a passageway to it off the main living room instead, a door which revealed itself with a silent password known only to him, and a flick of a wand. Inside was a single brewing table and a locked cabinet of supplies. Severus brewed the most volatile and dangerous potions here, to avoid a student happening upon them. Since they had a full day before the other students would arrive and Snape had to assume more faculty duties, he intended to spend the majority of the day in the room, focused on Rhiannon's potions work.
Snape took his own breakfast in the Great Hall, having been assigned meal supervision that day to avoid suspicion from the other staff at any prolonged absences. The newest staff member had just arrived that morning— the Ministry plant he had learned about when last summoned to the Dark Lord. She was a nauseating bubble of pink fluff who giggled after every simpering, falsely saccharine statement that escaped her mouth. Of course Dumbledore had deliberately placed her to Snape's left at the staff table, anxious to have his spy zeroing in her with every possible opportunity.
"So very pleased to meet you, Professor Snape," she said brightly, grabbing his hand from the table in order to shake it. He looked pointedly from his hand to her and back again, attempting a warning.
"I must admit out of all the staff at Hogwarts I looked most forward to meeting your acquaintance," Dolores Umbridge continued gushingly. "A fellow Slytherin who prioritizes discipline and teaching our students self-control and respect— I am sure we will be very fast friends."
Snape swallowed. "Indeed." He felt Dumbledore's expectant gaze on them from further down the long table. This was going to be a very long year.
"The Ministry has charged me with bringing order to Hogwarts," she continued cheerfully. "These last few months have been quite disturbing and we all need some sensibility, some grounding. I trust I can count on you as an ally? If anything seems amiss, you'll notify immediately, yes?"
"Of course," Severus said, taking his last sip of tea. "Now if you'll excuse me, Potions requires a great deal of preparation before the beginning of term. Good day."
"Good day!" Umbridge squeaked in return before turning her attention to her next victim, Pomona Sprout.
Severus hoped that whatever history and motives Remus and Tonks were crafting for Rhiannon were believable, because this Umbridge woman would be relentless in discovering any hidden truths.
Miss Aspenfell, he corrected himself grimly, though he recalled her using his first name rather early on in their interactions yesterday. He was torn between being offended by her brazenness and happy that she wasn't terrified of him. Their necessary relationship would be much easier if she maintained respect for him as her teacher, of course, but how could he expect her to respect him after she had seen inside his thoughts last night?
Severus rounded the corner to the dungeon steps and felt an unwelcome flush at the memory. No— he had told her they would forget last night, and that is exactly what he intended to do. They could not go on with the roles they had to play after what had happened, so the solution was simply to believe it hadn't. Effective obliviation. Actual obliviation would have been much easier, and Snape cursed himself for not thinking of it in the moment.
He entered the living room to find Rhiannon seated at the small table, a half eaten croissant in front her, her tea untouched as she studied the textbook in front of her. She was back in Muggle clothing today— jeans and a tight green sweater perfectly matched to her eyes, hair thrown up in a bun. It was the casual opposite of her goddess-like appearance from last night, and Snape wondered if it was intentional, an effort to make herself less desirable after what she'd seen within his thoughts. It wasn't working.
"Something wrong with your tea?" he asked her in an effort for casual conversation.
She startled, clearly not hearing him come in. "Good morning, Professor," she mumbled. "No, I, uh— just prefer coffee at breakfast. Sirius spoiled me at Grimmauld Place with it. Just reminds me of home. Old habits. I'm sure I will get used to the tea."
Snape tried not to roll his eyes at Black's name and proceeded to unlock his personal Potions room, procuring their ingredients for the day ahead. He also tried not to dwell on the observation that she'd reverted to addressing him formally. Rhiannon followed him into the small stone room, though uninvited. She carried her open textbook with her, and he discovered she had been studying the Potions text in preparation.
"Today you'll be brewing Dreamless Sleep," he informed her. "It is useful for after-effects of Cruciatus, and in acute trauma situations as well. Long-term use is ill-advised, as our dreams are often useful for processing and synthesizing memory and unconscious detail in order to solve problems. Do you know the ingredients?"
"I don't think I've ever slept without dreaming," Rhiannon mused. "I wouldn't even know what it feels like. My dreams are like reading a book."
Snape resisted the urge to admit the same and instead answered with a sharp sigh. "The ingredients, girl. Focus." He had only used Dreamless Sleep himself after particularly nasty encounters with the Dark Lord, and only when situations would necessitate his quick return to mental acuity or sustained energy. He personally did not enjoy the feeling it gave— dreams to him revealed the parts of his mind he needed in order to fully assess a situation and craft his approach. Robbing himself of them was like stripping away an essential weapon. Even though some, like those from his childhood, or those of Lily, often caused immense pain.
Rhiannon eventually rattled off the list of ingredients, and he could tell she had been studying in her spare time. He brought them to her and watched as she prepared them rather awkwardly and shakily, skipping ahead to prepare for step four before even considering the first three steps. He couldn't understand why a woman so smart and confident in so many other areas let a brew frustrate her so. He could see she was flushed and agitated under his pacing scrutiny.
"You need to envision the steps before you begin— picture how you will handle each ingredient and how they will integrate together," Severus advised sharply. "Then as you execute, focus on each in isolation. Don't let your precision suffer under your desire to speed along, and don't let your anxiety over future steps compromise the integrity of your current one."
Rhiannon nodded. "I'm sorry. I just always get so flustered with a potion. I like to look for the step that looks the hardest and get it out of the way first. I see all these steps and I just feel trapped."
"You...just...feel...trapped," he repeated. "And what would you rather be doing than completing this assignment?"
"Literally anything," she answered quickly. "Sorry...again. It's not you. It's just...the process. I hate it," she admitted. "I can't make it my own. I can't intuit anything, I can't feel anything. I've always been able to get through it— it's just never smooth or easy." She looked embarrassed but somehow sure of herself at the same time, as if knowing her limitations was somehow a source of pride for her. The contradiction was a bit maddening to Severus, who prided himself on perfection at all times.
He studied her, brows furrowed. Then with one swift movement he came around to her side of the brewing table, leaning with arms around her as he poured the honeywater into the silver cauldron and added a simmering heat. "Since you already began crushing the moly plant, your brew will be compromised," he informed her. "Its freshness is imperative as is the timing of the oil release. You will need to monitor your other steps carefully to ensure your quality does not suffer further. You've cost your patient at least three hours of sleep."
Rhiannon turned to look up at him, their faces nearly touching from the proximity he'd put between them. Snape added the sopophorus bean to the cauldron next, his arms still around her as he worked. He tied the sprigs of lavender and chamomile together to prepare for the next addition, all he while monitoring the skin of the bean for the indicators signaling the need for its removal. As he watched the cauldron he was aware of the tension in Rhiannon's frame, and he felt an awareness of her heart beating faster. He glanced at her to find her watching the cauldron intently.
"I believe it's ready, Professor," Rhiannon said quietly. "The skin is beginning to break."
Severus took the strainer in front of her and removed the bean from the brew, pleased at her concentration. The method he was using was wild, but everything he had learned about her thus far told him it might work. He reached for the tied bundle of herbs, his hand brushing hers as he did so.
"You can add the moly now," he instructed, his mouth close to her ear. He heard her draw in a small breath and she obeyed, scattering them evenly across the surface just as the text directed instead of simply dropping them in. She began to stir without waiting for his command— one, two...
"Slower," he suggested. He grasped her right hand and adjusted her speed. "Three...four..."
They made it to seven and she stopped, observing the swirls they had created as they began to form a purple sheen on the surface. He heard her let out a small sigh of relief and he smiled a little, glad her attention was on the brew so she wouldn't see. Snape placed a glove on one hand before removing the cauldron from the heat, gently setting it to the side.
"It will need to cool. The purple color must be uniform throughout before you strain into bottles. You have to keep watch and minimize distraction. If you let it sit too long you risk the patient's dreamlessness turning into thoughtlessness once they wake. They will appear like a walking hollow shell."
"I understand," she said. She smiled at him and he saw the vibrant confidence return to her eyes. He genuinely suspected for a moment she may try to kiss him, so he quickly backed away, busying himself with cleaning up the empty bowls and bottles from the table. Clearly the girl's boundaries would have to be kept in check, but he was surprised with just how well her mental focus had fallen in line once he distracted her physical energies.
Woman, he reminded himself. Not a girl. A woman who obviously found herself turned on by him to some degree, though the jury was out on what part of that was actual attraction to him versus the thrill she seemed to get from manipulating and controlling the opposite sex. Whichever it was, he would be using it to his advantage in Potions class. The goal was an accelerated sixth and seventh-year education; no prescription for the methods used to get there. If toying with her lust kept her lovely arse in the seat and her mind engaged, then so be it. Severus would just be left making excuses for a quick exit afterward.
It was raining mercilessly outside Grimmauld Place, and Sirius put a record on the old gramophone in an attempt to drown out the dreary sound. The song was one he had put on for his and Rhiannon's engagement party two weeks earlier — he wasn't ashamed to still be a Bee Gees fan after all these years — still relishing the Muggle albums from the 70s that he and James used to blast during parties at the Potters' house. Sirius stared into the photographs in the album commemorating the engagement celebration, wishing he could relive it all again.
"Omg, Sirius!" Rhiannon had burst into laughter at witnessing his dancing, which he personally thought was rather on-point considering his 12 years in Azkaban.
"Please don't photograph us at this party," Ginny begged, pulling a giggling Hermione over to hide the corner as Remus, Arthur, Fred, and George joined in with Sirius to "Stayin' Alive."
"C'mon, Harry, show Ginevra here what she's missing?" Sirius laughed, yanking his godson onto the makeshift dance floor. Harry had awkwardly attempted to follow along, laughing and blushing the entire time with all the ladies' eyes on them. Ron slinked back into the corner with Hermione and his sister, letting his best friend go it alone, presumably to tease him about it later.
"We danced to this at your parents' wedding," Sirius had told Harry fondly. "Remember, Remus?"
"I'm surprised you remember anything from that night," Remus returned. "The Potters served a very fine elf-made wine."
"Yes!" Sirius clapped his hands excitedly at the memory of the taste. "Kreacher! Wine, please!" He was so high on the moment that he'd even added a 'please' for the miserable creature, though it likely went unnoticed.
With a flourishing wave of his wand, Sirius commanded the wine glasses from the hutch on the wall, laying them brilliantly in a line on the coffee table. He concentrated on the first bottle Kreacher had brought, making a show of leaning forward with his wand hand exaggeratingly outstretched, standing on one foot. He directed the bottle to pour each one while hanging in midair, giving a gleeful bow when they were all filled. Applause resounded throughout the room.
"Most impressive, Sirius," his head of house even commented, having just arrived from Hogwarts for the occasion.
"Minerva, grab a glass— everyone, please!" Sirius began passing around glasses, ignoring whether the recipient was of-age, a fact Molly brought his attention to with a loud clearing of her throat.
"Oh, come on, Molly— it's a special occasion. A safe space, and we're all family. Let them have a little fun!" Sirius winked at the teens as he noticed McGonagall look away, pretending she hadn't just witnessed that.
"Let me do the honor of the toast, please, Sirius." Dumbledore's voice rose above the whistling, whooping, and hollering in the room. All the voices trickled downward into silence as the head of the Order spoke. Sirius took a seat in a chair by the fireplace, pulling his future bride onto his lap with a kiss.
"My friends, it warms my heart most graciously to gather together for such a joyous occasion," Dumbledore began. "In normal times I suspect we would be holding a wedding ceremony this evening instead of an engagement party, so madly in love does our happy couple seem to be. Alas, these are not normal times. But it is these trying times out of which the most beautiful bonds are formed; had the world been normal, Miss Aspenfell would have remained in America, and Sirius Black, a free man, would no doubt be roaming the globe in search of his next conquest rather than considering matrimony and domestic bliss." The crowd laughed and mumbled in agreement.
"However, as fate would have it, we are welcoming Miss Aspenfell into our family in more ways than one. Her love for our dear Sirius is a happy accident, but we also welcome her as an ally in our fight against dark forces, a brilliant mind who will no doubt serve the Order well, when she is ready, and a vibrant and vivacious addition to our circle of friends. To Rhiannon and Sirius!"
"To Rhiannon and Sirius!" the room echoed, and Fred and George released a series of loud streamers flying across the room as glasses lifted. Sirius stood and twirled Rhiannon around dramatically before dipping her for a kiss. Remus often teased him for his dramatic flair, but it had just always felt natural when flooded with such a rush of emotion. Sirius recalled a similar photo of Lily and James, and he smiled with satisfaction knowing he finally understood how his friends had felt in that moment.
Tonks had taken over as photographer for the evening, and she snapped their photo in that moment. It was the one Sirius gazed at now, tracing a loving finger softly over Rhiannon's radiant laugh. He thought of her in Snape's dungeons and hoped she had found something to smile for— something other than the greasy git himself. The miserable man loomed in the background of their happiness just as he had with James and Lily's. Sirius longed for the day when the war was over and he could indeed trot the globe as Dumbledore had mentioned, but with Rhiannon firmly planted at his side and away from the clutches of Severus Snape.
As if scripted, a regal white owl with bronze-tipped wings flew in the window, dropping a message onto the library desk in front him. Rhiannon's three birds began chirping in excited greeting, and Sirius felt as if his sudden erratic heartbeat mirrored their song.
My love — I cannot believe two weeks have passed. I think we did a good job making lasting memories on our last night because it seems to have flown by. I've been able to learn a great deal, mostly self-taught since the regular students must be tended to. He has helped me learn to sit still at a brewing table though, so I suppose that should be commended.
H and H have been able to visit me a couple times, but of course getting them into "this" territory is challenging. I think they are using some charmed object that belonged to Prongs, from what I can gather. It's good to see them, at any rate. I hope Moony and the others finish with their mission soon so I can explore the rest of the castle. I'm going stir crazy, especially at night— I cannot imagine how you must have felt all those years trapped in you-know-where.
I miss you and am counting the days until winter holidays. Say hello to the birds— missing them too. We really need to name them. Ideas?
All my love, R.A.
Sirius fed the three birds their afternoon meal, pondering the naming challenge once again. The trouble was the importance they had placed on them, having found them in the garden after their first night there together— and the fact that they remained a symbol binding them together. No name seemed worthy enough. They seemed to have a way of lifting spirits, which was a miracle these days.
Molly and Arthur still spent some nights here and there, to help with the house and keep him company. Of course the Order members came and went for meetings but were always preoccupied with business, much of which Sirius could do nothing to help with in his current homebound state. He had received a letter from Harry already and chatted with him through the fireplace, but rather than uplifting him it just caused him to dwell on all of the nefarious effects of Umbridge's presence at Hogwarts. These were dark times indeed, and made ever more so by him being prisoner, effectively castrated in his ability to help those he loved.
Sirius couldn't believe he was at a point where Snivellus was the hero — spying directly on the Dark Lord, teaching and caring for Rhiannon, advising Dumbledore, reporting to the Order, keeping an watchful and suspicious eye on Umbridge, protecting Harry— and Sirius was left to sit here and rot away with nothing but decaying memories of a miserable past.
"Tea, Master Black?" Kreacher wheeled in a small cart, saying the words with so much spite Sirius was fairly sure the elf had spit in it.
"Thank you," he muttered. He drank a few sips before ascending the stairs to see Buckbeak. The once majestic hippogriff was laying in the floor, looking as sad and trapped as Sirius felt. They were two wild creatures hemmed in by circumstances out of their control.
"Buckbeak, my friend, at least we still have one another," Sirius said with a faint smile. The hippogriff rested his head in his lap in response, and Sirius patted the white feathers of his faithful friend.