A/N: This chapter features Mallory O'Kenly, a heroine of great note who is featured in my most darling Severa's "The Raven and the Dove", which I highly recommend. So read about Mally and her partner Medyr, and see Severus get ridiculously jealous. Also, behold the proper British sex talk between Sylvia and Sevy. Enjoy!
Chapter Seventeen
Snape wondered why time had to pass so quickly when you were happy, and so slowly when you were unhappy. The next weeks seemed a blur as he and Sylvia stayed up all night talking and laughing, studying philosophy, and enjoying one another's company. There was no single memory of the time that stood out to him—when he thought about it, he just felt contented.
He was contented and happy and peaceful, three things he had never been, until late March, when the trees were budding and the flowers were beginning to poke their heads out of the damp earth, and work on the archeological site was going along at a pace. Sylvia had confided in Snape that they were searching for personal items of the Four Founders, and Rosamund soon made a shocking discovery of a portion of Slytherin's journal.
Everyone was so exhilarated at this prospect that Sylvia and Snape spent an entire rainy Saturday locked up in her room, madly trying to decipher it, only to discover that Slytherin was merely discussing the right weather for planting perennials.
"Why would Salazar Slytherin have any interest in perennials?" Snape asked exasperatedly; he certainly had never considered his House's founder as the type that was an avid gardener. He was also not sure that he wanted to.
"Oh, Salazar loved gardening," Sylvia, much to Snape's chagrin, confirmed. "Every year he got out his mattock and attacked a patch of land back behind the castle. By midsummer it was blooming beautifully."
"Sylvia, you've got to be kidding me."
"Do I look like I'm—" She was interrupted by a soft knock on her door. "Come in!" she called.
And that was when Snape's peace of mind that he had been so pleased with for the last few weeks dissipated. The person at the door was a very wet Remus Lupin.
"Remus, what on earth are you doing here?" Sylvia asked good-naturedly. Lupin was still standing in the doorway, staring at Snape. "Come in, please, you're soaking wet," she added, and he walked slowly into the room, staring at Snape.
"Remus," Snape said coldly, sneering at him; he knew he had the advantage.
"Hullo, Severus," Lupin said softly, looking away. And suddenly, a strange thing happened. Snape began to feel sorry for the man. He resolved not to say another word.
"Remus, you're sopping," Sylvia said, bustling about her room purposely. "Let me get you something to dry off with."
"No, it's fine," Lupin replied, and muttering a spell, he dried his clothes. Immediately Sylvia stopped bustling. "I…uh…I'm just in town for a few days and I thought I would stop by and see you."
"I'm very glad that you did," she answered warmly.
Feeling he had to at least say something, Snape piped up with, "So what brings you to town, Remus?" He only hoped that the words came out without any sarcasm.
"Actually, there's a laboratory over in Ireland that I need to visit. Two sci-wizards there have come up with a new potion for my uh…my ailment, called the Wolfsbane potion. I am going to be a test subject for it."
"My, Remus, Ireland is such a long way from Hogsmeade," Snape commented sarcastically. "And it seems like you haven't really explained why you're at Hogwarts." Sylvia glared at him, and he was instantly remorseful. He mused momentarily that he had given her the power to make him feel remorseful. What had she given him in return?
"I am here to speak with Dumbledore, Severus," Lupin replied a little coldly, his gold eyes unruffled. "You must remember that I have been living in America for the last few years. Seen in that light, the distance between Hogsmeade and Ireland does not seem so great."
"Oh yes, America," Snape said nastily. "That's where you take all of them, isn't it, Sylvia? Riddle, Lupin…am I next? When do we leave?"
"Severus, please," Sylvia murmured.
"A-actually, there was another reason I came," Lupin said with a touch of hesitation. "Sylvia, I need someone to come with me to Ireland. The side effects of the potion are unknown, and they say that I need someone to monitor me."
"We would love to come," Snape said immediately.
"We?" Sylvia asked.
"Yes. I want to know what goes into this potion. You know, such things are my specialty," Snape replied in his most patronizing tone.
***
This was how he found himself in Dublin, the home of the Irish ministry of magic, the next weekend, with Sylvia and Remus Lupin, all three sleeping in different bedrooms. He was paranoid, and he knew it, but he wondered how sure he was that they were sleeping in different bedrooms. After all, Lupin had already had Sylvia as much and as often as he wanted, but Severus Snape had not had this pleasure.
I am Sylvia's One…I am Sylvia's One…I am Sylvia's One…He repeated this mantra to himself often, but inevitably he next thought, then why in the bloody hell won't she sleep with me?
He was up all night asking himself these sorts of questions, and desperately listening for any noise on the other side of his wall, where Sylvia was sleeping.
At about 2 in the morning, he heard voices, and panicked. It was Sylvia and Lupin talking, he could tell. He listened intently for quite a while, not sure if he should break in and join their party or eavesdrop like some sort of bad private investigator. For some reason, this made him think of his old family friend Janus Quirrell…oh Lord, his thoughts were rambling. He had to get control of himself.
In the end, he sat there debating for so long that the voices stopped, he heard a door opening and closing, and he assumed that Lupin had left. Or had he? Had he, perhaps, gone into the bathroom, knowing that Snape was listening, and trying to fool him? Severus Snape, get a grip, he told himself, and for the love of Merlin, go to sleep.
The next day the three of them proceeded to the Irish ministry of magic, and after having gained admittance, made their way down to one of the lower levels. Remus and Sylvia were talking quietly together and Snape felt distinctly left out.
When they reached the basement where they had been headed, a young woman in her early twenties greeted them. She looked remarkably innocent, her light blond hair caught up in a braid, her blue eyes empty of any kind of dissemination, and her skin delicately pale.
"Mallory O'Kenly," she was saying to Sylvia, who was shaking her hand warmly.
"Thank you so much," Sylvia said, "You have no idea how much this is going to help us."
Us? Snape thought. Who is us?
"Now, if you can just wait here a moment," O'Kenly said in her rich Irish brogue, gesturing to the chairs set in front of two desks, "I will go get my partner and we can examine Mr. Lupin."
The three of them sat down, Sylvia in the middle, as Mallory O'Kenly stepped through a door behind her desk into what was presumably the laboratory. Snape found the seating arrangement incredibly ironic, as well as a little telling.
All three were eagerly looking towards the laboratory door when a young man walked in briskly from the other door. Sylvia rose to greet him, and Lupin followed suit.
The man approached Sylvia first, looking her up and down with more than just cursory attention. "Medyr Lewis," he said almost seductively, "very pleased to meet you. Don't tell me such a lovely young lady as yourself is a werewolf."
"Young seems to be not so applicable," she said a bit coldly, "as I am over two thousand years old."
"Well. My." Medyr seemed at a loss for words.
"And I am the werewolf," Lupin added, shaking hands fiercely with the man.
"Ah, there you are, Medyr," O'Kenly said, appearing from the laboratory, having heard her partner's voice in the outer room. "Are you ready to look him over?"
"Yes, of course," Mallory's partner responded, and the two led Lupin into the laboratory, leaving Sylvia and Snape alone.
They sat in relative silence for quite a while before Snape suddenly spoke his mind. "Why are we here, Sylvia?"
"What do you mean?"
"Why did you agree to come here with Lupin? Do you still have feelings for him?"
"As I recall, Sevy, you were the one who pledged us both to come here."
He waved that off. "Do you still have feelings for him? You didn't answer."
"I hardly think it would be possible not to, having known him for a good bit of his life."
"Dammit, Sylvia, why won't you sleep with me?" He hadn't meant to say this. "You certainly didn't refrain with…with…him!"
"Sevy, I don't know…I don't know what to say. Did you expect something from me?" She seemed very embarrassed, and afraid.
Now he was embarrassed. He certainly hadn't expected the discussion to come to this point. "I just…the first night, when you told me that I was your One…I tried to…but you wouldn't let me." He suddenly realized how properly British he sounded, not even able to complete a sentence on this delicate subject.
He could see her fighting with what to say, and after a long silence, she finally responded. "Sevy, I love you so much—" He tried to interrupt but she wouldn't let him. "I really do. But…but I'm scared. Zeus, Sevy, I am so afraid."
"Of what?" he scarcely dared to breathe. He had no idea what she meant.
"Of dying," she whispered. "I don't know what it's like…what will happen? I've watched so many people die but I've never thought…and if I am with you, if I become pregnant…I will die."
"Oh, Sylvia…" He didn't know what to say.
"Just give me time, Sevy. Let's wait until I am ready. Please?"
"Of course. Until you are ready," he repeated, hoping that it wouldn't be long. But as they sat in the uncomfortable chairs outside the laboratory waiting for Lupin, he felt a weight escape from his chest, and realized how free he felt.
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We're just pretending that Sylvia doesn't know what "safe sex" is, seeing as she has had no reason to know in the past, so bear with me there. Please. In our next installment, Lupin will get his Wolfsbane Potion, a rivalry will ensue at Hogwarts, and the end of the year (and thus the resolution of the story) will near approach.
Thanks to all my reviews! Y'all are the best ever! (Especially Normandie M, and swift footed E, my newest reviewers!) Normandie and Severa, I hope you caught my reference to Ian Hart, and to Janus (which is Sevvie's first name for Master Quirrell). Both of these lovely ladies have wonderful stories on Quirrell, both of which I recommend. Well, that's it. Y'all come back now, hear?
