Chapter 7. Reflections



"Annia, Are you all right?"

"Mmm, fine. Why shouldn't I be, my love?" Annia turned to nestle in Snape's soft embrace and looked up at his thoughtful face.

"No, but I" he continued.

"Shh, don't say anything, let's just stay like this for a while longer." And she rested her head on his warm chest and closed her eyes.

Snape remained silent too, but there was something that stopped him feeling truly contented, a sense of foreboding that he had been aware of for a few days now. He knew that soon their peaceful reverie would be shattered and they would have to face the truth, the reality they had been denying as they had made love. There had been something about this night, the way she looked, even the way she had tasted, he had wanted her so badly and she had given herself so readily. Yet the image of that first night still haunted him and as he relived that experience so all of Annia's pain seemed to flood his mind.

He slipped from under Annia as she slept, her ivory skin, soft and warm to the touch, but he couldn't rest, so he pulled on his trousers and wandered into the other room then flopped down into the wooden chair by the grate. It felt cold, after the comfort of their bed and her languid body, so he reached for his wand and lit a small fire in the hearth, then he fingered the ebony stick, idly, before securing it in his pocket.

As Snape looked into the flickering flames his senses were stimulated by the smell of food left out on the table behind him and of the dry cherry- wood logs now burning more fiercely.

A distant memory seeped into his thoughts of a huge kitchen, where as a boy he would enjoy the warmth of the wood burning range and the pleasure of simple food, given to him by their bemused cook.

"Why do you spend so much time down here, Sevvy, what does your mother think?" She would ask him but he had no answer, he only knew that at least in that lively kitchen he felt safe and wanted. Unlike in those, cold, formal rooms upstairs, where he was expected to act like the adults around him and show them the utmost respect.

Again a feeling of fatigue, swept over him as the fire's intensity grew and he became aware of his surroundings once more.

Snape got to his feet and paced the room, and then went to retrieve his shirt. Annia was still sleeping, so he sat with her for a moment as he slipped his shirt back on. He stroked her silken hair and wanted to wake her but decided not to disturb her much needed rest, so he returned to his fireside vigil. He hadn't really slept for a couple of days but now was not the time to relax.

Now Annia was stirring, woken by a thumping headache, she turned over to see her bed empty. Maybe Severus had gone. Part of her wanted him to return to Hogwarts, where at least he would be safe, but then there was the side of her who needed him. She had never known a man like him, from the outside a stern and severe teacher, yet alone, with her, he was different, so thoughtful and understanding. If only Voldemort hadn't sent her here, if she had met him without this curse, what would life have been like then. It was hopeless of course, this was her fate, her destiny, she knew that in her heart, but still something forced her to believe they could, maybe, be together.

Then the door opened and he was still here, he looked over to Annia.



"Come here, Severus. Come and hold me, I'm cold."

"What is it Annia, are you feeling ill? Tell me and I'll fetch something for you. Here let me see." He sat beside her and felt her checks, she was hot, the fever was returning, there was no doubt about it.

"Let me give you some tonic." But she held on to his wrist as he attempted to stand and she looked up to him, her eyes flickered with anguish.

"I scared Sevvy, what's going to happen to me? What will they do, when the come back?"

"Hush now, you're going to be fine, now here, drink this." He had reached over for the bottle and handed it to her, but she turned away.

"Come on, drink it. Why don't you do as I say? Annia, What is it?" He was angry, why wouldn't she let him help her, at least let him do this, it was all he could do, and he felt helpless.

"I don't know, it's no good Severus, it won't make any difference. Please just leave me alone." Her voice sounded weak and broken.

"Damn you Annia, listen to me!" He pulled her round to face him and he could see she was crying, and the fever was coming back. Then she fell into his arms and felt the warm embrace she so desperately needed.

"You should go, before the Death Eaters get here." But she held on tighter now and wanted him again. He remained with her cradled in his arms, and then gently laid her down beside him.

"Here" and she sipped the potion, it was good, sweet with a hint of marjoram, he watched her face acutely and she smiled a little to let him know it was fine. Then she moved towards him and kissed his lips so that he could taste the mixture, but also her sweat and he wanted to kiss her again, she was intoxicating. He needed her, he had to take her and feel her softness.

"Sevvy" She whispered. "Make love to me, do it now. I want to feel you inside me again"

He kissed her with such passion and strength that she dropped down onto the bed and felt his weight press onto her feeble body. His hands slid down her open nightdress but he pulled away as he reached her belly.

"No Annia, you're ill, it's the fever, you're burning." He felt revulsion that he had tried to take her even as the curse started to reappear. Was that all he could think of, as she began to sweat and shiver.

"It's alright my love, I want you. Please don't pull away from me." She took his hand and placed it on her breast, though the unbuttoned garment. It felt so enticing he leaned forward to kiss her slender neck and let his tongue slide down to the other breast.

He wasn't truly aware of his actions now, only the desire that surged through his weary body; the need to have her, to overwhelm her physically. He pulled himself up to face her and to look into her flashing eyes, so full of need and desire, too. She wrapped her legs round his thighs and held his face as she kissed him, then forced him over so suddenly, that he had no way of stopping her.

Now she knelt over him and pulled at the buttons still done up on his trousers and at his shirt, popping a few of the buttons off, in her haste to reveal his well-defined chest.

"Yes Sevvy, do it now", and she grabbed his penis and tried to manoeuvre it into her, but she was shaking and the effort of getting on top of him had left her weak and unable to manipulate him.

"Annia, stop. Wait a minute, I don't think we should be doing this, not when you're sick. Please Annia, listen to me."

But she couldn't stop and so he grabbed her wrists and held her firmly, then pulled her down onto the bed next to him. As she struggled he held her in his sinewy arms, and said.

"I don't want you like this, angry and wild. This isn't like you, don't you see the fever has taken hold and is dictating your actions. Stay there, I've got something to help you."

She looked panic stricken as he let go of her. He looked at her burning face and sweat drenched hair, he had to act swiftly, the fever was rampant now.

He went to the kitchen table to find a bottle he'd brought with him, he searched frantically to find the potion, but as he did, Annia appeared.

Her nightdress was sodden, as was her hair and her face was gaunt and flushed. There was a deranged look about her as she held on to the doorframe.

Snape moved towards her as he thought she was about to collapse, but instead she raised her hand and pointed a wand at her lover's face. He instinctively felt in his pocket for his own wand; it wasn't there. It must have fallen out when they were on the bed together. Then he saw that Annia had his wand, she was shaking and trying to keep the wand steady. The kitchen table stood between them as he called.

"No Annia, put the wand down. It's Voldemort, he's doing this to you."

She didn't react to him, but raised her other hand to control the wand, and in a hoarse whisper, began to mouth the words,

"Adava Kadava", but before the words were fully formed Snape pushed the large wooden table towards her, knocking it into her legs so that she fell backwards. He threw himself across the debris of the kitchen table desperate to retrieve his wand, but somehow she got there just before him.

"Get away from me." She screamed, although her voice was strained.

She grabbed the wand, but he managed to pull her arm back, so all she could do was toss it into the fire.

"No!" Snapes cry was in vain, the ebony wood hit the flames and a torrent of green and red sparks showered the room. Snape and Annia were caught in the deluge, as they tried to shelter from the scolding hot downpour. Colourful sparks hit his back and singed his flesh and hair, Annia too was hit but scrambled to her feet and made a dive for something glinting in the jumbled mess on the floor.

"Annia, stop! Voldemort is behind this, stop. Let me help you, please."

She was panting hard and her beautiful white gown was stained with sweat and covered in tiny burn marks from the exploding wand. Her eyes were wide and streaming, with a red glow about them.

She made a despairing lunge for the man she love and then he felt the cold blade pierce his arm, as Annia lifted the knife back up to strike again.

Tears were pouring down face and for a second, she looked into his eyes, those, black, glittering eyes she had adored.

But he caught her hand and they fought over the blade until it sank deep into her side.

Snape's hand felt numb as the blood began to trickle down his arm and then it streamed faster as the wound opened up.

"Dear lord, what have I done. Annia!"

He cradled her in his arms as they lay sprawled on the blood soaked floor, then he rested his head on her chest, still and cold. Her face was drained of colour and her eyes, returned to silver-grey, stared blankly at him.

Snape buried his face in her stomach and wept.

A shaft of early morning sunlight struck Annia's ashen face. Snape got to his knees and gathered up his lover's lifeless body and carried her to their bedchamber. He laid her down on the mass of blankets, her nightgown now stained red, and he caressed her, unable to leave her side despite the futility of the act. Then finally he slept, exhaustion forcing him to relinquish his self-inflicted vigil.



A figure at the bedroom door broke his sleep, as early autumn sunlight streamed into the tiny room. Snape lifted his head to see who had disturbed his mourning, he squinted into the painful light.

"Headmaster?" His voice was weak and tired.

The old man walked towards him. Greeted by the ghastly of Snape still holding Annia,s drained and bloody body. Then he spoke with such gentle compassion, as he helped the devastated man to his feet.

"Let me take you home. Come now, my boy."





The End.