Chapter title from "Sara" by Fleetwood Mac
Rhiannon's eyes finally closed, exhausted. She breathed deeply the smell that was woven into the black fibers of Severus's jacket, the smell of thousands of potions blended with his powerful musk. She would be content to lay there with that smell for the rest of her life. She couldn't believe he was almost fully clothed still after what they had just experienced, but she knew it just gave her more to explore next time, and the time after, and the time after that...
Her insides throbbed like she was a virgin again. Between his whole hand and his massive member, he had truly ravaged her. But she didn't care. All that would heal, and in the meantime was just a reminder of the earth shattering pleasure he'd given her.
"Are you in pain?" his silky voice asked her.
Rhiannon gave him a startled look. "Did you just use legilimency on me?"
Snape looked at her sheepishly. "I didn't mean to. I think it's the bond. It makes it easier." He reached for his wand and gently feathered it along her pelvis, murmuring a healing spell. "Improved?"
"Much. Thank you." She settled her head back onto his clothed chest but felt him tense.
"You need to drink a contraceptive potion," he reminded her, jumping up. He pulled the rest of his clothes on and went to fetch one from his personal stores.
"I can brew one this week that you can take regularly, if you prefer, to interrupt your cycle. So we aren't scrambling after each time. It may have side effects though, so this may be a better alternative."
"What side effects?"
"Mainly loss of libido."
"Umm, hell no, she laughed. "This one is fine."
Rhiannon could have sworn Snape actually smiled, a little. She drank the potion and watched him move about the room, smoothing his clothes and hair back into place. He had a more casual air about him, as if the tension he always held had been released somehow. Rhiannon too felt different; previously she'd had this driving obsession with having him— a desperation. Now she felt a strange security between them. Even though she still consciously had some confusion about her feelings, and his, there was this undercurrent of calm and confidence that she could default to now, if she dared to trust it. She clearly still had a lot to learn about sexual magic. although with her upbringing in New Orleans she had considered herself somewhat of an expert.
"Severus?" She asked, curling her knees up to her chest.
"Yes, Rhiannon?" He made a point to emphasize his use of her first name, driving home his insistence that she be fully his before he dropped his guards down. She knew him well enough to know many would still be in place, but she would celebrate each one as a victory.
"How did you know about...the bonding? And how did you know that's what it was?"
He sighed. "Those of us who study the Dark Arts with a fervor tend to fixate a bit on sexual magic, even the parts that aren't dark. Especially those of us who, let's say, were rather deprived of healthy experiences of it at a young age."
"So what happened between us— it wasn't dark?"
"No. It happens between witches and wizards of all allegiances, if the parties are predestined, willing participants, and able to focus on the proper contact to weave the spell. Many are simply too hurried, too shallow, or too self-absorbed to ever accomplish it. Or simply unaware of the possibility and execution of the connection. Others are more in-tune with the soul, not just the body."
"May I read about it?"
Snape came closer and pulled her to her feet. "I will leave a book on your chair by the fire." He kissed her cheek, and she shook at the contact. It was all still so new, so raw.
"But you will not have time to read until much later," he continued. "We are going straight to defense lessons, then you will clean up for your presentation to Dolores Umbridge."
Rhiannon's stomach dropped. "Today? I'm not ready! What if she hates me?"
"She will most assuredly hate you, as she hates most of the staff at Hogwarts," Snape returned. "But what matters is convincing her that you belong here and will be good for the school. You are charming, witty, intelligent— that should be easy. Just be yourself— but a little less...sexual..." Snape trailed off, his hand tracing her cheek, chin, then down for a quick brush of the tops of her breasts. His eyes were heavy again with lust, but he pulled away quickly.
"Get dressed. We haven't much time."
Rhiannon did as told, selecting an outfit that resembled riding pants and a rather equestrian looking top, really the only athletic-like wear that she owned. He had mentioned several times lately that their defense lessons would be increasing in difficulty, and she didn't want to be encumbered by skirts.
Snape allowed her a quick stop for two sips of coffee and a scone before whisking her out of the dungeons toward the seventh floor. It was nearly lunch time and the castle was abuzz with activity. Rhiannon felt a bit shell shocked at seeing so many people after so many weeks of confinement. Her arm was securely locked with Snape's, and she followed his lead of nodding politely to those who passed, trying not to laugh at the gaping mouths and stares.
"They think me incapable of attracting the opposite sex," he muttered quietly.
"Then they don't know you very well," Rhiannon replied. "And some of those looks are jealousy, not shock." She noted a Ravenclaw with jet black hair who looked especially haughty at seeing a female on Professor Snape's arm.
"What about her?" she whispered. "Does she flirt with you in class?"
"She does tend to ask for extra validation and praise," Snape admitted. "I always just assumed she was being exceedingly Ravenclaw."
"Exceedingly hot for her professor is more like it," Rhiannon laughed. "Shall we invite her to defense training? I could use a new opponent..."
"You would eviscerate her," Snape replied.
They were nearing the seventh floor when they almost ran right into Harry Potter and Ron Weasley rounding a corner.
"Rhiannon?" Harry said in surprise.
"Professor Aspenfell," Snape corrected him. "Show some respect, Mr. Potter."
Harry's eyes moved between them, clearly trying to understand. Ron just looked bored. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry," Harry finally stammered. "Welcome, Professor."
"Discretion, for now," Snape cautioned, his voice lowering.
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you, Harry. Hello, Ron," Rhiannon offered with a smile. It quickly faded as her thoughts turned to Sirius. He suddenly seemed like a distant memory, in spite of their recent reunion. Her mind felt like it was grasping to find the feeling she knew was there for him, but she was no longer able to feel it. Of course it was the bond. The realization made her stomach feel queasy.
She watched the boys disappear down the corridor, hoping Harry wouldn't be conversing with Sirius in the fire anytime soon. Although with her impending reveal to Dolores Umbridge, she assumed the Order would be informing Sirius of their plans soon, if not already. The bond may have taken away some of her love for him, but not the guilt. Rhiannon didn't understand how she could simultaneously feel so right and so wrong about something.
Snape glanced around to ensure the hall was empty, then waved his wand to reveal an entry way into what appeared little more than a large storage room. The entrance sealed behind them once they entered.
"You will likely read about this in the book, Rhiannon, but I advise you not to attempt a union with Black," Snape warned her tightly. "It will likely be painful and not go as you would hope."
She bristled. He was reading her mind again, after he had completely attacked her weeks ago for doing the same to him.
"Severus, you're doing it again. Stop using legilimency. You're being a hypocrite."
He frowned. "It's just happening. I'm not doing it intentionally. Do you find the same is happening with me?"
"No! Ever since you rebuked me for it I am constantly working to turn it off!"
"Is it harder now?"
"Maybe a little? I don't know."
Snape studied her face. "I apologize. I will work harder. But you must begin working on Occlumency immediately. This week. Not just to protect your privacy from me, but because once your father learns of your proximity to me, he will no doubt demand an audience. You will not only be shielding your thoughts from him, but replacing them with believable alternatives."
Rhiannon gulped but nodded. Of course she had imagined meeting her father, but part of her dared to hope Severus would be able to shield her from it. How in the world would she block the very notion that he was her father and all the emotions that came with it?
"I will help you," Severus told her somberly. He placed his hands on her shoulders, but sighed when he'd realized what he'd done. "I'm sorry. Your thoughts are rushing into my head like water, no different than my own. I will fix this," he promised. "I just have to figure out why it's happening. In the meantime, try to imagine a shield between us. Not between our bodies, but between our minds. When you have a conscious thought, imagine a shield in front of that thought, between you and me. It will take great concentration and practice."
"Just like everything else," Rhiannon sighed. She was suddenly aware that the giant piles of objects in the room were moving backward, seeming to absorb into the walls. The ceiling itself stretched impossibly upward, and from the ground grew trees whose branches rose into the high ceiling, weaving in and out of each other. The top of the ceiling became sky, and a rush of wind ran through, sending leaves onto the ground below.
"Your obstacle course," Snape explained. He smirked a little and threw her a broom that had appeared.
"You created this?"
"The Room created this. It gives you what you require. Hence the name. Clearly it thinks you have your work cut out for you. Mount the broom."
Rhiannon snickered. "Never thought you'd want me to name your...the Broom...but happy to oblige."
"I see our union did nothing to erase the juvenile jokes. I will punish that later. Up in the air. NOW."
Rhiannon did as commanded, soaring very high very quickly. She'd been rather skilled with a broom during her Ilvermorny days, but her last ascent was over two years ago. She was more than a little rusty. The wind-blown branches made it all the more difficult, bobbing and weaving and threatening to knock her teeth out at every turn. She squinted her eyes to protect from errant leaves, finding an adrenaline fueled rhythm as she whooshed through the maze of branches. It was soon broken, however, by a series of objects being pulled back from where they had disappeared into the wall, hurled at her from all directions with a mighty force. Rhiannon shrieked and maneuvered her broom wildly, knowing she needed to counter-jinx the objects, but she was so focused on keeping upright and not hitting anything that she had no idea how to start. She didn't even have time to consider it before Snape had added stinging hexes into the mix, each one hitting her like hornet stings through her pants.
"Reverte!" she shouted to command the flying objects stationary, then was able to use nonverbal magic to deflect the stinging hexes as she had their first night practicing together. The weaving in and out of the tree branches was left to auto pilot, instinct and muscle memory. Once re-centered, she shot a Tempest Jinx down toward Snape's billowy black form below, sending lightning bolts down from on high like the Thunderbird painted on her wall. Electrified with the power, she added a roaring thunder that shook the walls of the Room of Requirement, the floor vibrating so hard that Snape lost his footing for a brief moment. Rhiannon was able to take advantage of the moment long enough to start her descent, moving safely past the branches. Snape quickly recovered, and with a now-clear line of sight, was able to jinx her broom. It bucked and spun out of control like a wild horse. Rhiannon closed her eyes and pictured the wild stallion of her Patronus, herself on the mighty steed, bending it to her will. The broom in turn responded to her mental commands, countering Snape's control of it as she finished her ride downward.
She landed smoothly and triumphantly at his feet, completely out of breath but smiling, completely high. Snape looked at her with an unreadable expression.
"You perform well under duress," he assessed. "Adrenaline is certainly your friend."
"Thank you...I think?"
"I will join you in the air next time. You will have to add gauging my movements to your list of efforts."
"You need to figure out the legilimency connection first," Rhiannon reminded him. "Otherwise you'll have a very unfair advantage."
"As will the Dark Lord," he snapped. "Don't worry with the advantages of others; worry about developing your own." Bottles of water now appeared at a table in the corner, and Snape grabbed one for her. "Drink, then back in the air."
As promised, Severus followed this time. His broom movements were so swift he appeared more like a black blur than a wizard on a broom. He would terrify anyone that was fighting him in reality. Rhiannon felt enormously safe, being his witch, and in dire trouble at the same time, being his current opponent.
Snape of course showed her no mercy, sending a constant stream of hexes and jinxes in her direction as their brooms twisted amongst the tree branches. Facing his assault required absolute mental and physical concentration, and a great deal of intuition and gut instinct. She found he easily deflected most of what she sent back to him, a discouraging sign for how she might fare against Death Eaters in battle. As their duel wore on, every muscle in her body ached from trying to stay on the broom, and she felt her grip weakening. Snape took advantage and sent a final hex in her direction that sent her tumbling to the ground below.
"Severus, help!" Rhiannon screamed, but the room itself was ultimately what saved her, turning its floor into a cushioned mat instead of its normal stone. She laid there sobbing, her cheek to the mat, feeling broken. Not just from bruises, aching muscles, and twisted bones, but in the knowledge that she could be so easily defeated. For the first time that day, she wanted nothing more than to be in Sirius's arms, even if he did feel a million miles away now. She heard Severus land a few feet from her.
"If you think your tears will earn you favor with your father, you are gravely mistaken," Snape commented, no trace of sympathy in his voice. "You fought bravely and boldly— it would have bought you points with him. But your tears would earn you punishment— even death. Learn to control your emotions." He spoke the last sentence with slow, pointed emphasis.
"I shouldn't have to control my emotions with you!" she cried. "Are we or are we not bound together as partners? Do you not care at all?"
"Of course I care, Rhiannon," he answered as gently as he could muster, which was not much. "But these exercises are not you and me. They are you versus a Death Eater. If I coddle and placate you, I will have failed you. You need to have some fraction of understanding in regards to the pain and humiliation you will feel, to prepare you."
Rhiannon still didn't move. Even breathing was painful. She was aware of the room changing around them, though from her vantage point she couldn't tell how. She felt herself being lifted by Severus, and he laid her on a rather clinical looking bed to examine her. The room had supplied several of the more basic healing potions and salves; she assumed anything more advanced would have to come from his stores or the hospital wing's.
"Are you hurt at all?" Rhiannon asked him as he went to work on her injuries.
He shrugged. "Nothing I haven't experienced before. Now, are you prepared to meet with Professor Umbridge this evening?"
She sighed. "I don't have a choice, so yes. I'll handle it."
"You have to do better than 'handle it.' You've studied the dossier Minerva gave you— enough to face interrogation?"
"Yes, Severus. Can I please just rest?"
His eyes cut through her like shards of black glass. "When do you think I rest, Miss Aspenfell? You are part of my world now. In this world we are in a war. We catch fitful respites between battles, but never at the expense of preparing for the next."
Rhiannon looked away, silent as he finished his work. She hadn't thought their relationship would suddenly change to roses and champagne just from having sex, but she perhaps had put too much faith and excitement in the prospect of the bond once he had mentioned it. It seemed that soul bonding ought to at least make you feel simple empathy and affection for one another. She snuck a look back at his face out of the corner of her eye. His lips were in a tight line, his face in a scowl, as if treating her was business as usual rather than any kind of connection with someone he had feelings for.
Because he doesn't have feelings for you, Rhiannon reminded herself. Wanted her, yes. Fulfilled some predestined union to make a magical connection, yes. But none of that translated into actual feeling. Contrasted with Sirius who wore his feelings proudly on his sleeve for any and all to view. The Gryffindor wizard was full of passion and affection; it was strange to make the comparison, but he was very much like his Animagus would suggest — exuberant, loving, and unfailingly loyal. As disgusted as Rhiannon was with herself over her performance in the duel just now, she hated herself even more for how she'd betrayed a man who loved her so much. And all for a man whose default was to forever be cold and distant, even if alluringly sexy.
"You told me you were sure," Snape commented offhandedly, bandaging a particularly nasty slice on her left arm.
"And you told me you would try harder not to read my mind," Rhiannon snapped. "I guess we both lied."
He sighed. "I am trying. But your thoughts of Black are gushing like a damn waterfall. Am I supposed to ignore them?"
"Yes, you are," she answered quickly. "You also promised you would let me work through my feelings for him. You'll be happy to know that your little ceremony made it nearly impossible for me to feel any love for him, but that doesn't stop my mind from feeling guilty and for rationally realizing that he would be a far better match for me."
"A far better match if you want to die. Black is headstrong, impulsive, and overconfident. Not to mention Harry Potter's only living possibility for a true family. The Dark Lord will gleefully make him a target, and therefore his happy little housewife would be taken and made into quite an unhappy little Death Eater whore. I don't believe that is the vision you see for yourself, am I correct?"
"So instead I get to be your happy little housewife and your happy little Death Eater whore," Rhiannon replied. "What an alternative."
"And alive, and safe," Snape added matter-of-factly. "I'm sorry wizarding wars don't lend themselves to storybook romances." He returned the bottles and supplies back to the shelf and stood.
Rhiannon was too tired to engage further, especially with her meeting with Umbridge looming ahead. She followed him silently back to the dungeons, aware that she already looked the part of the dutiful wife trailing along behind him to the gawking students as they passed. She was again trying to reconcile her attraction to Snape that felt so right, so meant to be, with this role she was to play in their relationship — a shadow of herself. Not just the role crafted by the Order— though that played a part— but the natural way of things between them— two steps forward, one step back. Her tentatively clawing her way on top, only to be knocked down by him again as he asserted control over every situation, including driving their feelings for one another in any given moment.
The minute they returned to his private rooms, Snape locked the door behind them and pulled her flush against him, his kiss tender but insistent at the same time.
"We don't have to figure everything out today," he reminded her when he finally pulled away. "Concentrate on Umbridge. Then read the book I will give you, to give yourself the textbook version of what we just experienced. But as for what you and I will look like, that cannot be decided in merely a day. I warned you before I am a difficult man. That will never change. And you are a force of nature. It will take time to find...a rhythm. Outside of the bedroom." A small smile played at the corners of his lips.
"Did Severus Snape just crack a joke?" Rhiannon asked with a playful caress of his arm.
"I wouldn't suggest getting used to it, but I suppose so. Now go shower and rest. We will leave for Umbridge's office in three hours."
The pink woman blended into her pink office like a bubble in a bottle of No-Maj nausea medicine. Rhiannon glanced uneasily at the multitude of cats that peered at her from china plates and portraits on the wall. The office had a sickeningly sweet musty smell throughout that caught in the back of the young witch's throat, and an unspecified threat hung in the air. Rhiannon wanted to flee as quickly as possible, but she took a deep breath and resolved to get through the interrogation. It couldn't last more than a few minutes, surely.
"Well, well, so young!" Dolores Umbridge exclaimed with surprise. "Why Severus, she is nothing more than a child!"
Snape stood stiffly at Rhiannon's side, not touching, but close enough that she felt within his circle of protection. He of course was dressed in his usual professorial garb, she in a high neck white blouse and a black pencil skirt that fell past her knees. They both felt that professional and modest was the way to go for her best chance at success.
"She is quite accomplished for her age, indeed," Snape returned. He always knew exactly what to say.
"Hmph." The pink woman studied Rhiannon critically. Rhiannon was actually taller than her, something she wasn't used to experiencing with her own petite stature.
"I am honored to meet you, Professor Umbridge," Rhiannon greeted her with the most charming smile she could muster.
"Pleasure is all mine, dear," the woman replied, her voice seeming to float high in the air like perky little pixies fluttering their wings. She clearly overcompensated to deflect from the pure evil both Harry and Severus seemed to describe.
"Severus, you may leave us," Umbridge continued. "I feel some girl talk may be in order? I'd like to really get to know Hogwarts's newest shining star."
Rhiannon knew Snape was bristling at the thought of leaving her. He wanted to control the situation. In fact, he had consented on the way to Umbridge's office to the use of legilimency if Rhiannon found herself at a loss for words; he would supply them for her. Clearly Dolores wanted to circumvent any possibility of interference.
"I believe it best to remain with Professor Aspenfell, as I have been charged with ensuring her well being while at Hogwarts," Snape replied calmly.
"Severus, it's all right," Rhiannon assured him. He shot her a quick ebony glare.
"Tsk, of course it is," Umbridge said hastily. "I'm sure there are students wandering the halls after curfew, yes? Perhaps you can find a punishment or two for them, Severus?"
"No, I will remain outside the door," Snape said firmly, but acquiesced with a nod.
Dolores gave a terse nod and smile in return before metaphorically pouncing on the young witch in front of her.
"Severus Snape, Miss Aspenfell? A strange choice for a partner for a pretty young thing such as yourself. Surely you find him rather disagreeable? Boring? Old?"
Rhiannon smiled politely. "I'm sorry, Professor. I thought I was here to discuss my career at Hogwarts."
"And we will get to that, dear. But for now I am interested in the things about you that don't quite add up. And your relationship with Severus Snape is item number one on that list."
"Have you read my book, Professor Umbridge?" Rhiannon challenged her. "You'll find on page thirteen I am quite clear that a wizarding household is most successful with a head that is a commanding presence. Respectful, traditional, and wise— his authority leading by the sheer nature of the magical force he exudes. His witch feeds off of this force, first pulled in by it like a magnet, then electrified by it when they unite. Then she channels it and tempers it with her own softness and attention to practical matters, and this is the energy by which the household runs and the children are nurtured. Surely you would agree Severus has such a presence, yes?"
Rhiannon couldn't believe the words rolling off her own tongue. Of course Severus did indeed have a commanding authority that exhilarated her to no end, but putting it in such legalistic, paternalistic terms removed all of its allure and instead made her rather ill. Just as attractive as his power were her own opportunities to challenge it. This traditional spin was just what the other woman wanted to hear though, because she smiled a genuine grin this time.
"Yes, I suppose he does. And you are prepared to teach such ideas in your book to these children here at Hogwarts? You realize many of them are wild hooligans with no sense of propriety?"
"It's simply all about teaching an appreciation for order, Professor," Rhiannon explained with an air of expertise she'd never heard escape her mouth before. Perhaps if she'd remained in the No-Maj world she should have been an actress.
"The simple things," Rhiannon continued. "A respect for a well-plated meal, a perfectly coiffed head of hair, a pristine bathroom sink. All accomplished through magical means of course, so not to lose our precious old ways. Respect for order begins with enticing the senses— creating that sense of warmth and security when things are right— and safe. From there I will teach them how to apply that feeling to so many things, simply by following the natural order of the magical world."
Rhiannon wasn't even sure what she was saying made sense at this point, but Umbridge seemed to hang on to every word, her beady eyes glazing over with an almost dreamy satisfaction. The woman was nuts. And gullible. Just when Rhiannon thought she was in the clear, Umbridge scowled again.
"Albus Dumbledore...?" the pink pustule said suspiciously. "Why is he so keen on hiring you? In what scheme of his are you playing a role, my dear? Tell me now, because I will find out."
"Scheme?" Rhiannon repeated. She remembered an old trick that you could stall by simply repeating back to someone what they had said. People generally liked to feel listened to and understood, so she was taught. "Yes, the man does seem like the type to play elaborate games, doesn't he?"
Umbridge titled her head to the side impatiently, tapping her wand on her desk. "Mmm-hmm."
"I'm afraid I don't know how I could help him in anyway," Rhiannon answered plainly. "He just told me he feared that in its quest for advancing the more complex and esoteric aspects of magical theory, Hogwarts had left behind the more practical aspects of daily living, and he didn't want to see the students deprived of such knowledge. He wanted me to bring a 'back to basics' approach, if you will. And of course I'm happy to oblige."
The older woman searched her eyes for any trace of dishonesty. Rhiannon was careful to keep a straight but pleasant face.
"Well, I will be watching you," Umbridge finally concluded. "And Severus Snape. Don't think you'll be getting any funny business past me."
"I'm sure we couldn't if we tried, Professor," Rhiannon said lightheartedly. "You seem to be quite perceptive. I'm sure that comes in very handy in keeping these students in line." A little flattery never hurt.
Dolores beamed. "Indeed. You'll have to pay me another visit and I will let you in on some of their secrets. The things they try to get away with! But I do believe this will do for our visit tonight. Are you staying in the castle tonight?"
Rhiannon hesitated a second. She wasn't sure where she was "supposed" to be living during the transition.
"Yes. They have a room in the dungeons for me that they are working on. I believe they've set up some temporary arrangement for me down there in the meantime. I hope it's not too dreadful," she added with a laugh.
"I should think your suitor will see to it that you are well taken care of," Umbridge smirked. "But do use discretion dear. We mustn't set a bad example for the students. Your relationship with Professor Snape should appear at all times professional, and a most traditional courtship. If I see anything inappropriate at any time I shall suggest your removal to the Ministry at once."
"Oh, of course," Rhiannon nodded. "I think Severus and I are in agreement that restraint around the students is key. But not complete secrecy. After all, it is an opportunity to model our expectations for how they themselves should act. Proper courtship and marriage is so crucial of course, for the continuation of our magical bloodlines."
"Hmm. Indeed. Speaking of, dear, I am unfamiliar with your family name?"
Rhiannon's stomach sank. Why did she have to go and mention bloodlines? If she were in Severus's thoughts right now she knew they would be murderous.
"I— I never knew my parents," she stammered. "I grew up in foster homes around New Orleans. Around age 10 I met a woman who tutored underprivileged children, and she happened to be a witch. When my Ilvermorny letter came, she was able to prepare me." Rhiannon hated this part of her story most of all. Denouncing her own mother felt like a sin, and it left an aching hole inside of her.
"How fortunate," Umbridge remarked dryly. "But it seems then that you shouldn't worry too much about bloodlines, since you have no family name?"
Rhiannon stared at her coolly. She felt a burning inside of her where the ache for her mother had been. A rage that wanted to tell this self-righteous bitch just who her father was. A look of warning on Severus's face appeared in her thoughts. She knew he was too far away for them to have any kind of actual connection, but over the past few weeks his assessments of her words and thoughts tended to manifest as part of her own conscience. They were clearly spending too much time together.
"Sometimes what we lack makes us perceive its value all the more," Rhiannon stated, quite proud of how she pulled herself together.
Dolores nodded thoughtfully. "Yes. Hmm. Well, good night, Professor Aspenfell. I look forward to our future chats."
Rhiannon nodded in agreement and quickly dismissed herself. She closed the door to the creepy pink office behind her and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the black cloaked figure waiting for her in the lantern-lit corridor.