Chapter Title from "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac

"And how is the education of our dear protégée progressing, Severus? I am terribly sorry I have been too involved with start of term to check in with you. Lemon drop?"

"No, thank you. Progressing well. She is remarkably astute academically, as you suggested. She requires the employment of certain creative measures to keep her focused, but they appear to have been effective. Even her Potions work is developing nicely."

Dumbledore smiled, pleased. "And what of her connection to Lord Voldemort? Bear any resemblance?"

Snape flinched, unsure how to answer. "She is a skilled legilimens, but she understands she is not to use it unless commanded."

Dumbledore appeared amused. "She infiltrated your mind, Severus? I would have thought that nearly impossible. Unless of course you desired her to do so."

Snape shook his head. "It was a moment of weakness, Headmaster. It will not happen again."

"I should hope not," Dumbledore said sternly. "I would doubt your capabilities against the Dark Lord if you so easily fell prey to his daughter."

"I have as recently as today implemented a new arrangement that will reinforce the dynamics of our relationship — ensuring she is properly accustomed to submission."

"Well, doesn't that sound interesting?" Dumbledore mused. "I'm sure Sirius Black hopes this is a platonic arrangement, but you may spare me the details. Just keep in mind she is not much use to the Order if you completely eviscerate her power. We are teaching her to channel it— not give it up completely."

Severus bristled. He preferred things much more black and white, but he understood what was being asked of him. "Yes, sir. And you will be pleased with her defensive spell work. She will be a fortress on the defensive line in any future conflicts."

"You will have to overcome the challenge of avoiding discovery while practicing Apparition," Dumbledore reminded him. "I would not delay this training much longer. She cannot count on you to always be there when she needs to flee."

Snape nodded. "I will begin crafting a plan."

"Good. And Voldemort? No summons since term began? That seems a bit odd, don't you think?"

Snape shrugged indifferently, secretly quite happy to have been spared the agony of an audience with the Dark Lord lately. "He is busy recruiting, Headmaster. And with the unusual connection he seems to have developed with Harry Potter, he may feel he does not need my reports as frequently as he had planned."

"Yes." Dumbledore sipped from his cup of chamomile tea thoughtfully. "We will have to address that as well. If it continues to escalate, I may need you to intervene. Harry must learn to fend off Voldemort's intrusions."

Snape rubbed his eyebrows wearily. Training Rhiannon was one thing— one-on-one time with Potter was quite another. The boy was every bit as impertinent and arrogant as his dastardly father, not to mention rather thick-skulled.

"But with Voldemort," Dumbledore continued, "You must compartmentalize all of your interactions with— and feelings for— Miss Aspenfell. Voldemort cannot even see a glimpse of her face in your thoughts if you are called into his presence."

"I understand, Headmaster. There are no feelings. She is simply another task."

"Mmm," Dumbledore replied doubtfully. "Nonetheless, he can never know of her existence. If he knows her true identity, he will claim her as his own flesh and blood to fight alongside him. Or harm her, I fear, if he feels a threat. And if he does not know or suspect her parentage, I am afraid the consequences could be quite dire indeed. She is very beautiful, and we know his urges quite well. If he sees her in your memories, especially if any of those memories are— ..."

"They are not," Snape interrupted, sick to his stomach, as he knew full well the breadth of the Dark Lord's sexual inclinations. All Death Eaters did. "She is promised to Sirius Black, Headmaster. You are referring to memories that simply have no basis in fact."

Dumbledore did not speak, just continued to level his blue-eyed gaze with Snape's as he attempted to move past the walls the latter had raised the moment the conversation took this turn.

"Yes...Sirius Black," he said abruptly. "A detour from the main road, for certain. Though not entirely unsuspected. He always was a most handsome and charming wizard."

Snape resisted the urge to scoff in disgust.

Dumbledore continued. "I do feel, as I did from the beginning, that Rhiannon would be better protected and her talents better served if bound to you. Provided you can maintain the necessary mental shields we just discussed."

"I beg your pardon, sir?"

"Guarding your memories of her against Voldemort."

"I understand that part," Snape replied dryly. "The binding part, however, has me rather perplexed. That aspect of this deal was never discussed."

"No, I have learned over the years that I must warm you up a bit to an idea before asking you to jump in," Dumbledore explained, that infuriating twinkle once again in his eye. "We know that wizarding marriages afford certain magical bonds and protections that mere engagements simply do not offer. Sirius is a man on the run and obviously cannot register a marriage with the Ministry. Once the Order has finished the business of legitimizing Miss Aspenfell's arrival in Britain, it would make sense for you to take her as your wife."

Snape was dumbfounded. He opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it again.

Dumbledore laughed. "Splendid. I already see Miss Aspenfell renders you speechless. That is quite a feat. At any rate, perhaps her entanglement with Sirius Black will sweeten the deal for you? I suspect the idea of one-upping him is attractive to you, yes?"

So damn mischievous, conniving, and always willing to toy with others' lives if it suited his purposes. Often Severus wondered if Albus Dumbledore was all that different from Lord Voldemort. Sometimes they seemed more like two sides of the same coin. Severus felt the need to escape this conversation, quickly.

"I am having dinner with her tonight. In fact I planned on asking you to excuse my absence from the Great Hall this evening and make my apologies. It is her birthday."

Dumbledore clapped his hands together and nodded. "Ah yes, I had forgotten. Wonderful. Show her a delightful evening, Severus, and give her my best."

Snape nodded affirmatively and excused himself from the Headmaster's office. He was grateful to Hermione Granger, of all people, for tipping him off as to the significance of today's date. She had approached his desk after class the day prior. Potter and Weasley remained by the door waiting for her, but Granger was smart enough to make sure any students not connected to the Order were well out of earshot.

"Tomorrow is her birthday, Professor," she'd stated awkwardly.

Snape had looked at her quizzically for a moment before catching her pointed look, her finger pointing back toward his private rooms.

"Oh? And she told you this, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir. When I visited her last week. She asked if...well...if I thought you might let her contact Sirius in the fire. The way Harry does." The young Gryffindor bit her lip, obviously afraid of raising his ire. Snape darted an angry glance in Potter's direction.

"You should advise Mr. Potter," he began coolly, "That the floo at Hogwarts is subject to Ministry interference at any time now that Professor Umbridge has promoted herself to the lofty yet fictional position of 'High Inquisitor.' Miss Aspenfell will not be conversing with Mr. Black tomorrow, and neither will Mr. Potter. Understood?"

"Y— yes, sir." Hermione looked apologetically at Potter, who appeared confused from his hallway vantage point. "Will you, um, give her something for her birthday, Professor? Try to give her something to be happy about?" Miss Granger blushed and appeared simultaneously embarrassed and puzzled as to what she could possibly be suggesting, no doubt struggling to imagine him capable of doing anything remotely human.

"I will acknowledge her birthday, Miss Granger. Now run along before the school is awash with questions as to why the 'Golden Trio' of Gryffindor opted to remain voluntarily with me after class. Discretion, always."

Hermione had nodded and ushered the other two into the hallway and out of the dungeons.

Thus began Severus Snape's attempt at making a newly-nineteen-year-old woman's birthday at least somewhat tolerable while locked in a dungeon. Today's diversion into Eros Absentia certainly was not part of the plan, though he had crafted it a few days prior in a purely experimental fashion, after discovering its existence while doing research on the traditions in which she might have been raised. Rhiannon had mentioned her mother's foray into both voodoo traditions and sex work, and of course something must have drawn the Dark Lord to her door nearly two decades ago. Severus wanted to get to the bottom of whatever it was, so he had journeyed to the library in search of information on uniquely American brands of magic. He doubted Eros Absentia held any significance, but it certainly caught his attention as possibly useful given their current circumstances.

Each Potions session became increasingly excruciating for him, as he found he spent more time focused on her alluring scent, the distinct way each golden curl fell against her fair skin, the gentle curve of her breast, and the delicate placement of her scarlet lips as she concentrated on her work. He found himself angry at Sirius Black for claiming her first — tainting her beauty with his canine stench. The shallow, self-inflated Gryffindor was not nearly worthy of her, yet he had wasted no time marking her, as if giving the finger to Slytherin itself by laying claim to the Dark Lord's direct descendant.

The knowledge that Rhiannon had requested an audience with Black for her birthday had felt like a humiliating blow. Snape had actually begun to believe, like an idiot, that her excitement in his arms at the brewing table had translated into a tangible desire and a drifting away from her whirlwind love affair with her felonious fiancé. Added to the insulting interrogations by Dolores Umbridge earlier this morning, Snape was sufficiently foul when he had arrived back to his private quarters following lunch. Rhiannon's eagerness to touch him aggravated him even further— the audacity of her to play with his lusts while still seeking comfort in a reunion with Black. But her sensuous touch returned Severus right back into the frustrations that had led him to brew the Eros Absentia days before, and her clear utterance of the consent needed to activate the spell had proven too much for him to resist. His mind was keenly aware of her power, and the thrill she undoubtedly received from wielding it over the men within her sphere. But separate from that awareness, and far stronger, was a gnawing need to possess her and squelch the burning fire she ignited within him. As complex as it was, the Eros Absentia was the easiest solution.

It wasn't quite perfect. Yes, it satisfied the basic need. It confirmed her desire for him; she had lost all control, writhing and screaming his name. Snape's trousers suddenly felt tight at the memory. He had tasted her, but he knew it was only his own vivid imagining of what she would really be like. The spell would always be haunted by a vague realization that something was missing— like wires that would touch briefly to ignite a spark but never connect to truly burn.

You are the only one stopping it, Snape reminded himself grimly, descending the final steps to the Hogwarts kitchens. The girl would give herself to you in a second if you would allow it. Dumbledore has even blessed the union now. You can have her tonight, on her birthday. Shag the hell out of her, make her forget Sirius Black. All you have to do is take her.

Severus felt a slight tingle on his left forearm. Not the searing pain of a summons by any means, but an awareness within the Dark Mark that he was asserting power. A gleefulness, like a pair of dancing red eyes and a cackling laugh. He ignored it and scoured the kitchens for Olwen the house elf, to whom Dumbledore had assigned Rhiannon's care. Once spotted he snapped his fingers and indicated for her to follow him into the corridor.

"Salmon filet, pearl couscous, roasted asparagus. Mediterranean herbs and lemon," he confirmed. "Chocolate cake with strawberries. And a bottle of champagne."

"Yes, Master Snape," Olwen agreed. "I fear she grows tired of our cuisine. She will welcome the change. I went to the market yesterday to make sure we had everything you requested. Shall I bring candles for her cake?"

"Yes. And in the morning, please bring her coffee instead of tea." He hated himself a bit for acquiescing to Rhiannon's implied request, especially since she had to make it in the context of praise for Sirius Black, but he knew her long days in the dungeons with no hope of escape were difficult. Anything he could do to make it more pleasant for her would benefit her educational progress. And that was the intention of everything he had planned for the evening ahead.

"Good evening, Olwen!" Rhiannon called to the house elf, hearing the clanging of platters and utensils ring from the living room. Rhiannon had obeyed Snape's wishes and remained in the thin, drapey white dress, but she had retreated to her room to freshen her hair, makeup and perfume for his arrival. She removed the daytime flower from her golden waves and instead secured some pieces atop her head in a braided bun, the rest flowing to her waist.

"Don't leave your room, Miss Rhiannon!" Olwen called back in response. "Master Snape will summon you when he is ready!"

Rhiannon smiled. Severus had not yet returned from his afternoon tasks, but the thought that he had given Olwen express instructions for how the evening should be handled pleased her. She could already smell something delicious wafting in from the adjoining room, far more enticing than the usual variations on meat and potatoes to which she had reluctantly become accustomed. Hogwarts food was plentiful and tasty, but very much suited to a British palate. Rhiannon's adventurous spirit and childhood spent in the American melting pot made her cravings much more varied than what they had been able to accommodate thus far. She sometimes longed to return to the streets of New Orleans and the bistros and food carts beckoning customers with their spices and creative delicacies. The prospect of the tantalizing smells in the other room and a night with Severus spent on something other than schoolwork filled her with almost unbearable anticipation. She jumped with excitement when she finally heard his voice.

"Thank you, Olwen. We will see you in the morning."

We? Would he be eating breakfast in the dungeons as well? Rhiannon's mind swirled with all the pleasures they could enjoy between dinner and breakfast. The memory of her marathon night with Sirius before she had departed for Hogwarts danced across her thoughts. If Severus was anything like Sirius, wizards could definitely be commended for their stamina. The No-Maj boys back home wouldn't last a fraction of the time she and Sirius had spent entwined in ecstasy. She wished for a moment she could send him the Eros Absentia so she could give him that pleasure again. She couldn't imagine how lonely and agonizing his time in his dreary childhood home must be.

Before the guilt beginning to form within her again grew distracting, Severus appeared in the doorway. She'd half expected to see him wearing something different for the occasion of their evening together, but should have known better. He had removed the teaching robe, but the black buttoned suit still remained, the delicate white sleeves extending to cover halfway down his hand. Rhiannon loved the way his fingers just barely appeared beneath the veil of the cuff, teasing her with their elegant power.

"Happy birthday, Rhiannon." He delivered the line awkwardly, as if such pleasantries were a foreign tongue.

Her heart leapt a bit. So all this was for her birthday. "Thank you, Severus. How did you know?"

"The Order knows what is necessary about all the players in its game," Snape responded indifferently. He offered her his arm as a formal escort to dinner, leading her to a table laid with two plates of scrumptious looking salmon and accompaniments. Olwen had lit two red taper candles, and a bouquet of autumn blooms adorned the center of the table, bringing an uncharacteristic warmth to the cold stone walls and faded wood floors.

Severus held her chair for her then removed his wand, levitating the bottle of champagne with a quick pop of the cork before pouring the sparkling brew into the their crystal glasses. Amused, Rhiannon assumed this method of pouring spirits must have been a Charms lesson when Severus and the Marauders were Hogwarts students years ago. Even so, Sirius executed it with far more flair, Severus with far more purpose and precision. Day and night, her two wizards. How could one choose between the day and the night when both were so necessary to make one whole?

Not your wizard, Rhiannon reminded herself. She watched his movements as he sat across from her, every one of them always so smooth and controlled, even-keeled. From the way he unfolded the silk napkin and placed it in his lap to the way he precisely took each bite so as to avoid any hint of mess or betray any sensual pleasure from the act of eating. She contrasted it with the memory of him enjoying her earlier today— the look of such pure rapture; he had devoured her. As delectable as her birthday meal looked, she would have abandoned it in a minute to see that look on Severus's face again— but real this time.

He caught her watching him and raised a questioning eyebrow. "I don't advise this particular menu served cold, Miss Aspenfell. Is something not to your liking?"

"No, Severus," she said quickly. "Thank you for having it prepared for me. It's truly lovely." She took a bite of the salmon and closed her eyes blissfully at the blend of herbs and spices with the hint of lemon. Some food really was as good as sex. Almost.

The silence as they ate was becoming tenuous. Rhiannon took out her wand and waved it at an old gramophone in the corner, which was similar to the one at Grimmauld Place. The sound of stringed instruments helped neutralize the tensions in the air, their sound dark and intense but romantic nonetheless.

"When is your birthday?" she finally asked, deciding that conversation would be up to her.

"January 9th."

"What do you usually do?"

Once again with the raised eyebrow. "Dumbledore throws a large party in his office. Balloons, hats, party favors. All of the Order is invited. They serve cupcakes and tropical punch." He spat each sarcastic word out as he narrowed his eyes at her and sipped his champagne.

Rhiannon rolled her eyes. "Do you always have to be so sullen? It was a normal question."

"Well I am sorry I do not have a normal answer for you, Miss Aspenfell. My existence is far from celebrated, or commonplace, as I am sure you have noticed."

"Poor Professor Snape," she fired back. "You know the only reason no one celebrates you is because you make it impossible, don't you? Even simple questions you attack with the intent of making everyone around you feel inferior and like a nuisance. I think you'll find your contributions are appreciated by many, but they are terrified to tell you. And call me Rhiannon, for Merlin's sake. You ate me out this afternoon— I feel like we've moved beyond formal address." Rhiannon downed the remaining champagne in her glass and helped herself to more, opting for a traditional pour. She made a mental note to study the Charm when alone again.

"I most certainly did not," Snape corrected her. "And I would prefer it if you do not refer to things with such crass terms. You are in Britain now, not the 'U S of A', and we are not Muggles."

Rhiannon sighed impatiently. "Maneuvered your expertly adept mouth with the intention of inciting an orgasmic reaction within the female anatomy, frequently referred to by its technical term of cunnilingus. Is that sufficiently 'textbook' for your tastes?"

Snape smirked and she noticed him shift a bit in his seat. "The fact remains that I engaged in no such act. Must have been an illusion. But I am flattered that your imagination finds my performance satisfactory."

"That was your imagination, remember?" Rhiannon countered. "I believe I was the one 'opening my mind to receive your vision' or something like that. You must think quite highly of your skills."

"Well at least we are in agreement on something, yes? Now can we agree that it is time for dessert?" Snape stood and removed a covered cake stand from the cart Olwen had brought, opening the cover to reveal a luscious chocolate cake glazed with huge, juicy strawberries. He withdrew a box of candles from the cart shelf, and she watched his pale fingers insert each one into the cake, perfectly spaced.

"Incendio," he murmured, and all nineteen candles were aglow.

Rhiannon prepared to make a wish and was immediately met with confusion. The realization that her path forward was so uncertain at this point in her life overwhelmed her. She finally settled on a wish that she, Sirius, and Severus would all find themselves useful in their purpose, and happy. That seemed to cover all bases, though she had no clue what that ultimately looked like. She would have to trust the fates.

The cake the house elf had prepared was nothing short of divine— the chocolate rich and decadent, the strawberries sweet. She found herself content for a moment, not yearning for anything other than the warm satiety that filled her, from the music, the food, the champagne, and Severus's presence, cantankerous as it may be at the moment. She noticed him check his watch.

"Did Molly and Minerva have you purchase a coat?" he asked. "If so, you should fetch it. And prepare to go out for the evening."

"What?" Rhiannon jumped from her chair, knowing she was grinning like an idiot. "You mean we are leaving your rooms?"

"Yes," he said, but his voice took on a warning tone. "You will remain at my side the entire time and obey my instructions without question. Understood?"

She nodded, about to burst. She did not even know what they would be doing, but she already knew it was the best present he could possibly give her. Rhiannon ventured to her wardrobe and found the emerald green velvet coat, placing it over her white dress. It matched her eyes, and with its silver buttons it made her look decidedly Slytherin. She could tell Snape agreed when she emerged from her bedroom. His black eyes became slits as he studied her, and she resisted the urge to enter his mind and read the thoughts processing there.

"Come," he commanded, replacing his own robes before leading her cautiously into the dungeon corridor.

"Don't we need the Potion for that?" Rhiannon teased him, then heard him sigh sharply.

"Must you ruin every moment with your silly schoolgirl jokes? I can see the men you've been with in the past must have all been immature imbeciles."

"Perhaps you should remedy that, Professor," she returned, locking her arm through his in strict adherence to his instruction to stay at his side.

Snape ignored her, of course, leading her through the intricate maze of the dungeon layout. Most of the lighting was extinguished for the night, since it was past curfew, so they moved through the halls with the light from the tip of Snape's wand. He pushed her behind him at nearly every corner, stopping to listen for footsteps and voices.

"We have the benefit of being in Slytherin house," he told her, his voice a near whisper. "The only one who should be out at this time of night is Filch, and he much prefers to punish Gryffindors. We likely will not encounter him, but in the chance Potter and Weasley have tangled with Malfoy at some point today, we may have to worry about Draco stalking the halls. He would relay your existence to the Dark Lord through his father before the night is finished, and we would all be in grave danger."

"I'm surprised you found it worth the risk," Rhiannon whispered back. She was met with silence, and she was fairly certain he was equally as surprised at his own actions. "Where exactly are we going?"

"See for yourself. First stop...on the tour." Snape used his wand make a door appear in the stone wall before them. Rhiannon entered into a large room with scarcely more light than the darkened corridors. She blinked and realized they were surrounded by a sheen of jade green, bubbles rising up periodically as creatures glided past, waves of black weeds dancing back and forth in the emerald deep. She barely took notice of the actual room, but was able to see that the overall feel was one of elegance and refinement. The air was cold, as was true of all the dungeon rooms, but particularly airy with its spaciousness. Of course serpents of various forms and materials wove their way through the room in metal adornments, tapestries, statues, and furniture carvings. The aesthetic was sophisticated, dark, selective...while it wasn't her own per se, she liked the feeling it gave her— one of being chosen, protected, and important.

"Our common room," Snape explained. "The body of water you're viewing through the windows is the Black Lake." He indicated a leather bench in front of one of the smaller viewing windows. "I spent many nights there as a boy, watching the creatures within its depths. It calms and re-centers the mind. You'll find what separates the Slytherins from other houses is indeed its mindfulness. You may think Ravenclaw is the house of the head, and they are indeed very intelligent, but a Ravenclaw can often become so lost in facts and figures that they neglect their instincts and the wisdom of the soul. The more intelligent members of Slytherin House know to utilize both."

"Like Thunderbird meets Horned Serpent," Rhiannon mused. She felt his gaze upon her, the light of the black lake casting a lighter green hue over the jewel-tones green of her cloak.

"Consider yourself sorted," Snape said with an amused smile.

She gave small laugh. "Was there ever any doubt? Carrying on the family tradition, I suppose."

Snape looked at her sternly. "We are not only our Houses, nor our families."

"Yes, Sirius says something similar. Sorry," she added quickly.

Snape shrugged. "The dog is correct in that regard."

Rhiannon settled on the bench he had pointed out to her, part of her wanting to have a similar conversation with Severus as she did with Sirius, asking him to offer his perspective on why the two of them hated each other so. But she was frightened of the prospect of Lily Potter entering the conversation. She didn't want to undo any of the progress they had made.

The green light fell upon the chiseled lines of his face, accentuating a sadness in his eyes that she'd never remembered being conscious of before. He worked so hard to mask it with anger and superiority, but behind the facade was stress, tragedy, and a fragility. She found herself curious about the woman that could cause the heart of a man like Severus to break. But she would have to wait, because he was ready to whisk her to their second destination.