Chapter Title from "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac

Rhiannon had not seen Severus since his brief appearance the morning after his summons. He had spent that night elsewhere, and when the time came the next day for Minerva to take her to Sirius, Rhiannon still had no idea of Snape's whereabouts or where they stood after the whirlwind night of her birthday. Had Severus renounced his promises to her already? Did her father's threats scare him away, or make him put up those impenetrable walls again? Loving Sirius was so easy, so straightforward compared to this, even across the distance.

Because it can be, Rhiannon thought. Sirius had zero obligations other than her and Harry, both of which were also on Snape's exhaustive list of responsibilities and in a much more frequent and tangible way. As involved and devoted as she knew Sirius would love to be, the fact remained that being hopelessly in love was all he had to do at the moment. So of course he was better at it than Snape, who had the work of an army facing him daily. Still, Rhiannon felt a quick check-in to know where things stood was not too much to ask for. She resolved not to let another day go by without one.

"Olwen," Rhiannon began as the elf placed her lunch — a delightfully smelling chicken curry— on the table. Now that Snape had granted her the one-time permission to deviate from the Hogwarts menu, the elf took it as carte blanche to indulge Rhiannon's tastes with more culinary creativity.

"I need you to locate Professor Snape for me today, please. If you cannot find him, please ask Professor Dumbledore to do so. It is imperative that I speak with him."

"Of course, Miss."

Rhiannon busied herself the remainder of the afternoon with her Defense Against the Dark Arts text, a sense of urgency now plaguing her since she'd learned her father now knew of her existence. There were hundreds of protective spells she still needed to learn, but they would involve Severus becoming much more violent with her than he had been in their previous lessons. She tried to imagine what it would be like to actually face her father in battle. Would she be able to destroy him? Would he be able to destroy her? Or would some unspoken bond somehow spare them? Rhiannon knew herself well enough to know that when the time came, she would be overcome with fascination, perhaps even excitement, to meet the man responsible for half of her DNA. She would need to be well-prepared mentally and physically to overcome those emotions. Something greater than herself would have to be evoked in order to protect her.

The Patronus Charm.

Rhiannon had read about it at Ilvermorny but never studied the actual practice. She had heard Harry discuss it at length with Sirius and Remus while at Grimmauld Place. It seemed simple enough, though she knew many young students struggled with it. It was said to be one of the most difficult defensive spells, able to be produced by only the most skilled witches and wizards. Rhiannon had confidence in her ability, but not in the memory that was necessary according to the text.

"Your purest, happiest memory of joy," she read aloud. She drew a blank. Memories to Rhiannon were often very ethereal— more generalizations— waves of feeling and instinct about a situation. She had always struggled with actual details, much preferring to drink in the present moment rather than remember the past.

She knew it wouldn't be anything with her mother. Epona was fun, exciting, brilliant— but as a mother gave off an undercurrent of instability and uncertainty that kept any moment from being entirely pure and happy, in a child's eyes. Of course none of Rhiannon's memories of boyfriends back home were of any consequence. Her memories with Sirius were amazing, but seemed to lack the depth required to produce a Patronus. Anything involving Snape was too complicated and intimidating— and she wasn't sure any of their interactions could be classified as happy.

That left her with memories of Ilvermorny only. Her five years there had given her plenty of adventures, but none so much as her travels to the Painted Desert as part of their Thunderbird discovery trip. Even though they journeyed there as a House, the faculty understood that each Thunderbird would want time to explore on their own and discover their own unique union with the native lands of the Thunderbird. Rhiannon recalled sitting on the very edge of one of painted cliffs, gazing out at the others as the sun went down, causing the intricate layers of clay and sandstone to glow like red embers across the clouded sky. She was fully aware of the energies of the first Americans who had called those lands home and their connection to the earth she sat upon. She had heard a bird call overhead, but all was silent other than that. It was a moment of pure serenity in a life that had largely been chaotic otherwise. Rhiannon knew that was the feeling she wanted her Patronus to capture.

"Expecto Patronum," Rhiannon spoke confidently, her golden oak wand pointed with precision. She shook her head. No, she couldn't worry about things like the precision of her wand. She had to truly be back in that perfectly peaceful moment, which meant letting go. Snape raced into her mind— her worry that he would break his promise to her and abandon her. Sirius soon followed— the guilt over hurting him, her wish that she could just leave all this behind and be with him— content, happy, normal. She took a deep breath and released them both, imagining them floating into the purple, red, orange of the painted cliffs, finding their own peace in the majestic clouds, the sandy earth, and the powerful spirits surrounding them. She imagined her mother at peace as well, free from whatever pain her connection to the Dark Lord may have caused her all those years with Rhiannon never even knowing. With the three of them released from her mind, she closed her eyes and worked to unite herself with the image of her memory, allowing that energy to fill her from the inside out.

"Expecto Patronum," Rhiannon repeated, her wand just a natural extension of her hand this time. From it emanated a strong blue light that shifted up the wall of Snape's living room, rebounding off of it into the shape of a fierce, powerful stallion, its mane wild and eyes determined as it whisked past her and around the room. Rhiannon let out a laugh as she watched it, completely in awe of its independence and tenacity. She loved it.

At that moment the door to the living room opened, and Snape entered just in time to see the stallion roaring back toward its owner, slowly folding in on itself until it became a blue whisp once again, returning into her wand. Rhiannon was breathing heavily, her chest rising up and down.

"Someone's been practicing," Snape observed, helping himself to a cup of tea from the pot Olwen had brought earlier. "Quite impressive, Miss Aspenfell. That Patronus will be a worthy foe for whomever dares to challenge you."

Rhiannon felt her eyes narrow at him and a ball of anger building from deep within her core. "Where the hell have you been?"

He didn't look at her, instead focused on the floor as he spoke evenly and coolly. "I apparated to my house at Spinner's End. I spent the night there after classes yesterday, and of course was in class all day today."

Rhiannon blinked. "You have a house?"

"Of course I have a house, Miss Aspenfell. I may not be rolling in riches like your fiancé, but I am hardly homeless."

"I just meant I thought you lived here, that's all." She had a hard time picturing what Severus's home would look like. Books, of course, and probably dark. That's about as far as she could imagine. He seemed to be one with the dungeons; placing him anywhere else was difficult. "May I see it?"

"See what?"

"Your house, of course."

"Why on earth would you want to do that?"

Rhiannon shrugged. "You did promise to give me all of you." She had wanted an opportunity to bring that up; this was probably not the best transition, but she took what she could get.

Snape sighed. "Surely you understand things have changed since that conversation."

"How would I?" Rhiannon countered. "You have only spoken like 10 words to me since then. You disappear to meet with the Dark Lord and don't even let me know you're okay, then disappear for a whole other day, leaving me to wonder what the hell is going on. It's unfair and disrespectful. You know I am trapped here and dependent on what you tell me." Instead of joining him at the table she remained standing, enjoying the height advantage, even though it was still only slight.

"I needed to clear my head, Miss Aspenfell, and craft our next steps. I needed a night of sleep in peace without the knowledge that your supple, willing form is in the next room for the taking. I also brought some books back that I feel will be useful to us in the coming months. Does that meet with your approval?"

Rhiannon felt her blood flow through her like warm, melted candle wax at his words, knowing she was such a physical distraction to him. "Not really," she answered truthfully. "You could have easily told me all that before your departure and saved me the worry."

Snape nodded slightly. "I will take that into consideration next time. I'm not used to considering feminine emotions in my plans."

She laughed. "Not feminine emotions. My emotions. We're not all the same, you know."

"I stand corrected. Now— have you been reading the dossier on the role you are to play?"

"Yes. So the proposal is to have me teach at Hogwarts? Practical Magic?"

"Indeed. The subject is mundane enough that it will pass Umbridge's approval, and basic enough that even spells you do not yet know, you will be able to perform them in your sleep, with your raw talent. You'll be teaching spells for cooking and cleaning and general maintenance of a household. The arithmetic of financial management, charms and theories for successful child rearing. Although the inverse of that is that you'll also be teaching sexual education— a subject sorely missing at Hogwarts with coed teenagers and many places to hide. It is far too much for prefects and staff to manage— you'll at least remove some of the mystery and give a realistic dose of consequences. Even more important during these dark times— the fewer innocent lives born during these next few years the better, plus Madame Pomfrey needs to be healing and tending to the wounded and cursed, not the young and pregnant. You will have to be cautious though, with your teaching of this; pureblood families will not like the idea of abstinence or birth control being taught to their youth when they are so obsessed with the continuance of their bloodlines. You will have to be subtle."

Rhiannon considered his statements and realized it could be worse. She would at least have free roam of the castle, the privileges of being an instructor, not just a student, and as Snape had pointed out, the subject was fairly elementary for her skill level so she could easily feign expertise to play the role. And Merlin knows her mother and Ms. Pearl gave her a thorough sexual education at a young age; it was a subject she could easily teach, though the thought of teaching Sirius's godson about sex was a bit awkward.

Snape stood and dug around inside his teaching robe, producing a hardcover book for her examination. Rhiannon's own face stared back at her; she was seated at a small, Victorian looking desk, wearing a traditional long dress, looking deep in thought with a quill in her hand amidst a perfectly tidy, well-decorated home. "Practical Magic: The Witch and Wizard's Guide to Thriving at Home" by Rhiannon H. Aspenfell.

Rhiannon let out a laugh of disbelief. It was so shallow and tacky and so far from her actual wild, intellectual, adventurous self that she felt like a stranger graced the cover.

"It had to pass approval of the Ministry," Snape explained, almost apologetically. "It could not be suspicious or controversial in anyway. Dolores Umbridge will love the traditional, fundamentalist conformity of it all, and will welcome you with little suspicion, which is imperative."

"But I'm a Thunderbird," Rhiannon argued slowly. "Anyone from Ilvermorny will never believe I wrote this."

"It is written from precisely that perspective," Snape replied. "A wild woman tamed by respect, honor, and admiration for the structure and stability of a well-run, organized, and happy home."

"But I'm not married or a mother," she continued. "How would I have come upon this realization?"

"You fell madly in love with a Pukwudgie wizard named Charles Davenport the summer after your seventh year. Yes- you graduated. The Order fabricated both records and memories. Davenport helped you see the error of your unbridled ways; you were to be married the following Spring, but unfortunately a Potions-brewing accident took him from you too soon. Devastated, you threw yourself into research for your book and embarked on a world book tour, where you met Albus Dumbledore, who immediately recruited you to teach at Hogwarts. There you encountered a brilliant Potions master whom your unconscious desperately fell for, knowing the simple mistake your great love made would never befall an accomplished wizard such as Severus Snape. You fell madly in love with his demands for order and self-control, knowing your impeccable domestic skills would thrive under the care and guidance of such a dominant, powerful traditionalist. He will allow you to share your talents and knowledge with the next generation, all the while keeping you under his wing and making sure you never revisit the wild ways of your youth."

Rhiannon felt nauseous. "That sounds awful, Severus."

"Awful and perfect. The Dark Lord will know who you are and know you are under my constant surveillance. We will be married at the end of term."

Rhiannon's mind was running a million miles a minute. She wished she were an Animagus like a Sirius so she could transform into an animal no one could catch and take off into the highlands.

"I could never see you that way— I don't want to see you that way," she continued. "To me you are the wild and untamed, the passionate, the dangerous. Even when I let you control me— I do it for the thrill, not to be contained." She knew she was saying too much, laying too many cards on the table. Snape's black eyes were locked on her in anticipation, seemingly grateful for this glimpse into her heart. "Is that how you see me?" She turned it around on him. "As a weak little woman to be dominated and subdued?"

Snape's gaze was hard, his mouth unmoving. "No one in their right mind would see you as weak," he finally answered. "And anyone who sought to control you would be sorely disappointed. The roles we are to play are just that. And we must play them unwaveringly and without error. But you and I will know the truth of what we are to one another, whatever that may be. And behind closed doors I imagine that will play out as it is meant to."

Rhiannon felt a little relief at his words, but her thoughts quickly moved in a different direction. "But Sirius," she said timidly.

"Black will be notified."

"I already warned him," Rhiannon admitted.

Snape's eyes were ablaze. "You communicated with Black behind my back?"

"You were unreachable," Rhiannon reminded him coolly. "Minerva warned me something like this may come to pass, and I didn't want him to receive the news without a chance to see each other one last time."

"You saw him?" Snape was seething, suddenly jumping up to full height. "Do you know the risk you took?"

"Not really," she answered flatly. "I had Dumbledore's consent and Minerva's help, so I considered it a sanctioned meeting."

Snape reduced the distance been them so her face was nearly against his chest. He titled her chin upward to look it him. "Did you fuck him?"

"Severus! He is my fiancé. That is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't. And I am your fiancé now. I will no longer be content with Sirius Black's sloppy seconds."

Rhiannon glared at him. He had crossed a line. Control could be sexy, but this felt abusive and degrading. She was having none of it. She pulled back angrily. "Don't touch me. And no, I did not 'fuck' him. For someone so concerned about my crassness, you're being awfully vulgar. I don't take well to double standards."

Severus gritted his teeth and she could tell he was having an internal battle. "I apologize," he finally said tightly. "Now that I have had a taste of you my jealously is hard to control. But you are a woman of your own will, and I know having you will not be nearly as sweet if your consent is not freely given, unencumbered by feelings for another. Work out your feelings for Black — I will not interfere. But you will not make arrangements to go outside the castle or meet with someone without my knowledge. I am the one who must deal with the Dark Lord, so I must know every factor and be prepared to offer explanation. Do you understand?"

Rhiannon nodded. "Yes. And thank you for giving me space."

Severus ran a hand through his black hair, looking weary. "I meant what I said. When we finally join together I want you to want it— fully and completely. I don't want to look at you and wonder for even a minute if your mind is on the dog."

Rhiannon wasn't sure she could ever give him that, and the thought pained her. She was still in the magnificently confusing plane of loving them both, wishing she could move back and forth within their spheres, filling her cup at will with the fantastic power and wonder they both had to offer her.

"When will all this take place?" she asked, holding up the ridiculous book she had apparently authored.

"The Dark Lord will be made aware of the plans as soon as my next summons, however the plan itself is for you to be introduced to Hogwarts just before adjourning for winter holidays. You will begin teaching when term resumes."

"And the gris-gris? The talisman. How will you explain my possession of it?"

"As simple as purchasing it in a second hand shop. You will confirm as much if ever directly asked. Be sure the narrative is believable but not so detailed as to appear fabricated. It's a careful line you will learn to balance. Be working on it and we will review together before the time comes. And Miss Aspenfell?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"We will resume work on the Eros Absentia this evening. Our union will not be consummated until your feelings are clear, but I refuse to be a bloody celibate priest in the meantime."

Rhiannon felt a rush between her legs and smiled. "Yes, sir."

They were nearly 90 minutes into their brewing session, and Snape could tell Rhiannon was at the end of her limit. She kept rubbing her neck at the base of her skull, obviously uncomfortable with sitting for so long. The list of ingredients for Eros Absentia was exhaustive, and the preparation of them even more so. He had of course employed the usual methods of working close to her for as long as he could, but this particular recipe necessitated that they each handle separate components to make the best use of time. He was pleased to see that her Potions skills had improved vastly; she required little correction even though the brew was one of the more difficult ones Snape himself had ever prepared. He wondered if her vested interest in the outcome had anything to do with her stellar performance.

"Is there any point we can take a break?" she finally asked. Her green eyes were heavily lidded as she rolled her shoulders and neck. "If not I understand."

Severus paused in grinding moonstone and nodded. "Yes, go on. I can take over for a bit. You've done well." He was happy to see the satisfaction his praise gave her.

"Would you like some tea?" Rhiannon asked him.

He shook his head. "Cannot bring beverage or food in here— it could compromise the entire brew. I don't think you would enjoy starting over?"

"Hell, no," she laughed. Her hands came to rest gently on his shoulders while he worked. He resisted the urge to shrug them off. Sometimes his impulse was to fight when there was truly no fight to be had. He remembered Lily for a brief second and remembered his resolve to do better with Rhiannon.

"Severus, I'm going to ask again. Are we sure this is worth it?" He saw her overwhelmed green eyes surveying the plethora of ingredients covering the table with a sadness he knew went beyond her weariness of the work.

Snape shrugged. "It's good Potions practice for you if nothing else, correct?" He began slicing the next element, making sure he was adequately distracted before Rhiannon began working her wiles on him. Her fingers were slowly moving down his arms, toying with the buttons on his sleeves. The further she went, the more she leaned into him, her breasts pressing into his back.

"I don't want it like this," she reiterated in a whisper.

"Miss Aspenfell, I believe that is still an engagement ring I am looking at on your finger, yes?"

"So that's all I have to do? Take the ring off? Then you'll ravish me in your snake bed?"

Severus worked to hide the smile that threatened to tease the corners of his mouth as he worked. "You are a very wicked woman, Rhiannon Aspenfell, and my list of punishments for you is mounting."

"You can mount me whenever you'd like," she returned, her tongue just barely gracing his earlobe. Her breath was hot. Gods, she was relentless.

"Appropriate sentiment for the fiancé of a dog."

Snape was surprised she didn't argue, instead silently sliding her hands down to cover his, assuming his grip of the knife. He had just finished slicing the vanilla bean and had been about to start separating the saffron from the crocus blossoms. Rhiannon was now puppeteering his hands as he had with her numerous times over the past few weeks. Of course he knew her motivation, after their conversation earlier in the day regarding her new subservient identity. She no doubt loved taking the one place where he was always, unquestionably in control— the Potions classroom— and assume the throne. Snape normally feared losing control more than just about anything, but he found he enjoyed her playful assertions. He knew she also loved being dominated by him, and he began to imagine this is what their marriage would be like— gives and takes, playing into one another's power— the way things were supposed to be. It was much more normal than anything he had ever dared to hope for in his lonely life.

"The stigmas of the crocus are most delicate, therefore they require a masterful touch and an exceedingly sharp blade..." Rhiannon drawled in a slow, silky voice of course meant to mimic his. "Each flower produces only three threads of saffron, and it takes 1000 threads to make an ounce, making it one of the rarest spices in the world. It's rich red color lends itself to the passionate red of the Eros Absentia, and it acts as a powerful aphrodisiac, allowing for increased stamina and longevity in the human male. Severus Snape, what are the effects of saffron on a female's sexuality? You don't know? How disappointing."

Snape released the knife and looked up, expecting her to ravage his mouth, but she didn't. Instead she kept her eyes locked on his, their noses nearly touching, their breath mingling in the cold dungeon air. "It is said saffron made ancient women irresistible to their lovers," Severus answered, "So much so that Cleopatra herself demanded it be added to her baths prior to lovemaking."

Rhiannon was testing him. She wanted him to make the first move because then all bets were off. The question was if he would let her win. Snape looked from her heated gaze down to the band on her finger, then back up again. Eyes locked, he lifted her left hand, taking her ring finger into his mouth, his tongue wetting the gold band, teasing it upward. Her face betrayed no emotion, so he used his fingers to slip it off, still looking for even the slightest hesitation. She offered none. Of course Snape knew better. It would take much longer for her to get over Black, but he enjoyed testing the waters in the meantime. He dropped the ring into the pocket of his robes with a smirk.

"Wash your hands, Miss Aspenfell. Then we resume the potion."

"Ugh," she groaned. "Severus, please..."

"First the potion, then the supplication."

"You and your bloody rules."

"Always."