A/N: read any of the first chapters for a disclaimer. I'm tired of rewriting it. J
Katie: Angelina will be further explained, but it will be a while. Perhaps once Antonia's finished shouting orders in my head. She really is a demanding little witch, you know.
Amanita: Yeah, I know. I wanted to bitch slap him, myself, but, you know, he kept looking at her and thinking Angelina. She was something special, you know.
w&m_law: Sirius serves a purpose in this one. And, well, Sev is very near and dear to my heart.
candace, Amanita Lestrange, w&m_law, tessie, Catriona Snape, Lindsay Beth, rushumble, Katie Weasley, Whitebears, and Tom Riddilpley: Thanks for the reviews!
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She laughed as he carried her across the dungeon to their bed. "I love you, Severus Snape," she said, a loving smile across her face.
"And I, you, Antonia Snape." He kissed her, and felt her arms wind around his neck. She was feather light. He had a feeling that he'd never grow tired of carrying her off to bed.
She sank into the soft mattress, and smiled with anticipation when she felt his weight pressing down on top of her. She'd come to know every nuance, every sensitive spot… She'd learned how to make her husband purr with delight and how to drive him mad with desire. And she loved every second of it.
Likewise, Severus had learned how to make Antonia quiver and shiver, and how to make her beg for more. They could never get enough of each other.
She felt one of his hands sliding under her robes, lightly caressing her legs, sliding up the silkiness of one perfectly shaped thigh. She kissed him, little kisses seeped in her adoration, brushing his lips, his cheeks, his chin, his neck… Wherever her lips could find him, she bestowed him with those angel-soft kisses.
His head slipped down, unfastening her robe with his teeth. She shivered at the coolness of the night air against her bared flesh.
He paused for a second, content to let his eyes feast upon the perfection before him. "So beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing the satiny smoothness of her breasts. He felt her stiffen beneath him as his lips closed under one dusky nipple. He teased her with his tongue and his teeth, giving his undivided attention to the perfection of her until she cried out with pleasure.
"Severus," she whimpered, her hands in his hair, her fingers tangled in the midnight strands.
He felt a rush of triumph as he looked up at her face. She was limp with pleasure, yet agonized by his robes being in her way. With shaking fingers, she sought to remove the offending garments. He took pity on her ineffective fingers and pulled them out of the way. Lovingly, he kissed her fingertips and placed her arms above her head.
Her eyes blazed with passion as his robe fell open. With impatient hands, she pushed the annoying fabric off of his shoulders, slipping it down his strong arms. The black wizard robe fell to a tangled heap on the stone floor.
She desperately pulled him back down to her, wanting to feel all of him against her.
His skin was hot as she brought the length of his body against her. Antonia wrapped her arms around her lover, binding him to her. His breathing grew harsh as she placed feathery light kisses on his face and neck. She wrapped her legs around him and cried out as he slid inside her.
They collapsed together and fell into a deep sleep, secure in the comfort of one another's arms.
* * *
She woke up to feel him thrashing beneath the covers, apparently in the throes of some terrible nightmare. "No! No! Don't kill…" he murmured.
"Shh," she whispered, cradling his head against her breasts. "I'm right here, darling…"
She gently stroked the side of his face, murmuring comforting nonsense. He quieted in her arms.
But only for an instant. "I won't let you take her! No, master! I'll kill you, first!"
"No one will take anyone from you again," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "I won't let them," she promised.
"Master, you promised that you would leave her to me! She belongs by my side! Don't kill her! Please! DON'T KILL HER!" Tears trickled down his sleeping face; his hand flailed desperately for his wand.
Antonia tensed. He wasn't talking about her… was he? Rather than soothing him, she listened. There was no way that he would tell her these things in his waking hours. "Don't kill who, darling?" she whispered, hoping that he would answer in his restless dreaming.
"Don't kill my Antonia… I can make her see the way, master… She can learn to hate muggles as much as you… Please, master, I promise, I'll make her see… I'll do anything, just don't take her!"
She felt sick. This wasn't one of his nightmares when he was dreaming of things that had passed. This was a nightmare where he was dreaming of things that would come. Had someone tipped off the Dark Lord about her…
Lucius Malfoy. Of course. That little worm would gladly tell her secrets to the master. Oh, but it would serve a dual purpose. It would earn the bastard favor with the master, and it would punish Severus for insulting him. Not the least of it would be the satisfaction at punishing her for her treatment of Draco.
"Severus, wake up," she whispered, shaking him.
"Antonia!" he cried out in his sleep.
"I'm right here, darling. Please wake up." Her voice grew more urgent, her shakes a little less gentle.
His dark eyes blinked at her for a moment.
"I'm right here, darling. You must have had a terrible nightmare," she comforted.
Gratefully, he snuggled deep into her embrace. He gripped her tightly, his fingers biting into her tender flesh. "I'm so glad you're still here."
"Shh… It's all right, Severus. I love you, and I'm right here." He fell back into a restful sleep, his head resting on her breasts.
She slipped out from her husband's sleeping embrace gently, so as not to disturb him from his much-needed rest. Silently, the witch dressed herself, paying no attention to the bruises he'd just given her. She quietly let herself out of their bedchamber, much like a thief in the night.
Antonia winced as she heard the door close behind her with a soft thud. She waited out in the hall, hating the sound of her breathing. She was certain that her husband would wake when he reached out to find her in the night, only to feel the cool satin of the sheets beneath his fingertips.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. He was asleep. She'd chased his nightmares away, for now. Move, Antonia, she admonished herself. She tiptoed down the hall, her bare feet making no sound as they lightly struck the stone floor.
The witch pulled out her wand. "Lumos," she hissed. Antonia went into the potions dungeon, and commanded the candles to light.
The delicate light of the candles danced along the stone, lighting the room with the ever-wavering flames. The orange-gold light of the beeswax tapers gave her flesh a luminous quality, but she was oblivious to her face in the mirror. Her face mattered not, for, while her mother would tell her that her face was her fortune, she knew in her heart that it would be her downfall. Besides, she did not come to this part of the dungeons to admire her own face in the looking glass.
No, here, in the solitude of the potions supply room, her face was as unimportant as the sun rising in the morning. Both seemed to be rather relevant to some, but, in this dark room beneath the earth, they were both inconsequential.
She pulled a small vial out of one of the many drawers. "If you're determined to see me dead, Voldemort, it will be on my terms. I won't die screaming," she promised, her voice resolute.
Looking across the supply shelves, she could see all that she needed for her task. Belladonna, arsenic, foxglove… Ah, yes, the most deadly potions fixings in the world, and they all were carefully placed on shelves before her.
"I won't let you kill me," she swore, remembering how the beady eyes had raked her before. She refused, steadfastly refused to be a pawn in this stupid game that was being played. She wasn't going to let him kill her, nor was she going to let Lucius Malfoy degrade her. Not with his hands, nor his words.
"My name is Antonia Snape," she whispered, tossing in the toxic stem of the angel's trumpet for a good measure. "You will not get an opportunity to lay those heavy Death Eater hands on me again. Any of you…"
Puffs of green and blue smoke filled the dungeon, while flashes of emerald and sapphire explosions lit her face from time to time. Her eyes had taken almost a manic expression, so fixed was her gaze. This was what she was born to do. Her life, her training… She was meant to spend her time in the dungeons, brewing the most toxic, no, the most deadly, of all potions.
A soft smile spread across her face as she gently stirred the evil witch's brew. The gentle humming that came from her could only be compared to a happy housewife singing as she cooked a delightful dinner for her family. This potion was her finest ever; it was the most important mixture that she'd ever brewed. While this potion may take her own life in the end, it would save her sanity and her self-respect.
Antonia poured the mixture into the vial, her wand holding the cauldron and the tiny glass tube steady. Once it was full, she corked the small vial and tucked it in her pocket. She swore to never be without it.
No, those bastards would never catch her unaware. And should they use some disgusting manner of treachery to find her, she would be prepared.
She poured the rest of the potion into a larger vial and sealed it with another cork. But, of course, if she ever had to use the first vial of the poisonous brew that she'd made, she knew without a doubt that she'd never use the rest of it. No, this brew was definitely to be used only once. She just couldn't bare to see the rest of her beloved labor to be wasted.
Antonia waved her wand about and cleared her mess. Severus would never know that she'd been down here.
She held the potion up and let her eyes lovingly drink in the sight of the murky brown depths. "What a wonderful poison," she whispered. How lovely it was. She had brewed it herself, in the darkness of night, with no deadly cookbooks and no prying eyes to assist her. This delightful dose of death was her own concoction.
And it was, without a doubt, the most potent potion that she had ever brewed.
"Let this be my lasting tribute," she murmured grimly, tucking the vials away in her robes.
With her trusty wand, she cast out the candle flames of the potions dungeon, and stalked back to the bedchamber that she shared with her sleeping husband. He must never know…
She cast her robe onto the floor and slipped between the sheets. Severus's arm snaked out and pulled her against him. She kissed her husband's sleeping lips, loving to see his countenance peaceful with sleep. No, she was in no hurry to die. But she was not afraid of it.
He blinked once, then twice, and looked at his loving wife with sleepy eyes. "I love you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with sleep.
"I love you, darling," she promised, sinking deeper into the comfort of his embrace. No, she most certainly did not want death to come for her. She wanted nothing more than to grow old with her husband, and to spend that long and aging life in the security of his arms.
She fell into fitful slumber, dreaming of herself with white hair and a slightly stooped posture, of Severus with white hair, and of Matthew and Jonathon as grown men, with their own children to look after. In her dream, the adults were sitting on the porch, while the children were running about the front lawn. She dreamt that one of the children was a little blond girl, with a band of fairies following her about…
Yes, she had very pleasant dreams that night, indeed… Except for the reptilian face with glowing red eyes that would spy upon her family from the shadows…
She awoke that morning to her husband's tears scalding her breasts. Noiselessly, he wept against her, clutching her as though he feared that she would disappear if his arms loosened their hold against her.
"What's wrong, my love?" she murmured sleepily, stroking his raven colored locks.
"My whole life, I've wanted someone that I could love, that I could have for an equal. And I have that. I have you."
"Shh," she whispered, wrapping her arms more firmly about him, one delicate hand still stroking his hair, the other on the pale flesh of his back. "I'm not going anywhere. I've loved you my entire life. And I swore that I would remain by your side ''til death do us part'. And I meant it."
"I'm afraid that death will come too soon, Antonia."
"Death will come when it is ready. Don't be afraid of anything, Severus. Be brave; face down your enemies. Fearing it will not prevent it from coming to pass."
He turned and kissed her breast, that same wet spot where his tears had fallen only moments before. "I don't want it to happen. I've lived my entire life in the shadows, and now I have you, my one ray of sunshine. You've made me happy. But, without you? The light goes out, and I'm in that darkness again."
"Do something for me, darling… Whenever you start to feel that darkness coming back over you, just remember how much I love you. I won't stop loving you after I'm dead. I love you, and that kind of love is eternal, just like this onyx that you gave me. I love you now." She kissed the top of his head gently, soothingly. "I love you more today than I did yesterday, but not as much as I will tomorrow," she added, not remembering where that line originally came from. But it was the truth, and that was all that mattered.
"I would willingly die for you, Antonia," he promised, his black eyes boring into her blue ones.
"And I would do the same for you. But we don't have to worry about that, right now… We're both here, we're together. And, even better, we're alive."
But for how long? he wondered, but not daring to voice that thought to Antonia. She needed, he could see, to pretend that everything was happy and normal right now. He kissed her fingertips and rested his head back on her lovely breasts. But if that's what she needs, then so be it.
"Don't you think we should go and join the other professors?" Antonia whispered. It was time for breakfast, and she was rather hungry… Late night love-fests and midnight trips to the dungeon could definitely cause a girl to work up an appetite.
"Not yet," he pleaded. He wasn't ready to relinquish her to the others, yet. It was far too early to share her.
She smiled, remembering a passage from one of Shakespeare's plays. "Fear no more," she murmured.
"What?" he asked, looking up at his bride with confusion.
"This just seemed fitting. It's from Cymbeline."
"What's the entire quote?" he asked. Or do I really not want to know?
She smiled obligingly and quoted:
"Fear no more the heat o' the' sun
Nor the furious
winter's rages;
Though thy worldly
task hast done,
Home art gone and
ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and
girls all must,
As
chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
"Fear no more the
frown o' th' great;
Thou art past the
tyrant's stroke.
Care no more to
clothe and eat;
To thee the reed
is as the oak.
The scepter,
learning, physic, must
All follow this
and come to dust.
"Fear no more the
lightning flash,
Nor th'
all-dreaded thunderstone;
Fear no slander,
censure rash;
Thou hast finished
joy and moan.
All lovers young,
all lovers must
Consign to thee
and come to dust."
Snape gaped at his lover. "Have you any idea how depressing that is?"
She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling with merriment. "But the point of it is where the beauty comes, darling. While Cloten may have died in the play, his fear came to an end. Death is not the end. It is simply a new beginning without fear." She kissed him and added, "I rather thought that you would have been impressed by my memory of the classics, rather than bemoaning the finality of it all…"
"I'd prefer it if you'd recite sonnets to me in bed, rather than excerpts involving the very thing that I wish to avoid…"
"What would you prefer, Severus? A bit of the thirty-second sonnet? 'If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover…"
"Uh,
no. Actually, I was thinking something
along the lines of the eighteenth sonnet… 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate…"
She kissed his hooked nose and laughed. "If only that were the whole of it…"
"I know the whole of it," he shot back testily. "But while I am lying in my bed with a beautiful blond witch, I prefer to remember the joy of poetry, rather than the death that it glorifies."
She stretched her arms above her head and said, "How about this one? This is from muggle music from the sixties… 'I thought love was only true in fairy tales… Meant for someone else, but not for me. Oh, love was out to get me… That's the way it seems… Disappointment haunted all my dreams… Then I saw her face… Now I'm a believer…"
He gave her a crooked half-smile and said, "That's more like it… except that it's muggle trash that will not stand through the test of time."
Antonia raised her eyebrow. "Need I remind you, darling, that Shakespeare was a muggle?"
At the sound of his silence, she pushed him off of her. "Okay, that's enough. If your wife doesn't get some nourishment soon, she may very well die of hunger."
"Can't have that, now, can we?" He slipped out of the bed and watched Antonia do the same. As she seemed to glide across the floor to the wardrobe, he just couldn't shake the thought that she was poetry in motion. Every movement she made, no matter how slight, made her seem more beautiful.
He was rather surprised when she pulled a black robe out for herself. She wouldn't wear black, ever. Always said it was a mourning color, and there were no deaths that she was prepared to mourn at this time.
Yet, it was so. She turned to him, her face even more the color of alabaster, her eyes even more luminous within the pale confines of her face.
"Are you ready for breakfast, my love?" she purred, tying her hair back with a ribbon of old lace.
He forced a smile. "Let's go."
They walked out of the room together, hands entwined. "Oops, I forgot something. I'll be right down," she added.
"No, I'll wait," he offered.
Something in her eyes flickered. "Okay," she said warily.
He started to follow her back in their bedchamber when she closed the door in his face. What was with her this morning?
In the bedchamber, Antonia was mentally kicking herself. First day you made it, and you don't have the damned bottle in your pocket, a voice hissed. Another voice responded, What's the big deal? You're going to the Great Hall for breakfast, and the Dark Lord isn't so stupid that he'd attack Hogwarts! The other voice in her head rebutted. What did Mad-Eye Moody teach you, if nothing else? Constant vigilance!
She hastily tucked the small vial of poison in her robes. She would never leave this bedchamber without it again.