"I Can't Let You Love Me" Chapter 5
What the students noticed when Snape returned to class was that the Potion Master's disposition had soured considerably... possibly reaching a new low. The Ancient Studies professor, on the other hand, had become much more subdued. She taught with less joy and enthusiasm. This being her first winter of dungeon living, most people assumed she was ill. In any case, the dungeon was not a happy place to be.
Few students even considered a connection between Taylor's mood and Snape's. His, after all, was clearly a result of his mysterious misadventure in the Forbidden Forest and the injuries he was apparently still nursing. Besides, few people would ever suspect him of having anything to do with a relationship.
Hermione Granger thought it an odd coincidence that both professors' moods had changed noticeably at the same time. Still, Hermione wasn't one to leap to a conclusion. Plus, like her classmates, her mind just didn't go to that place when it came to Snape. She had noticed Professor Taylor often massaged one hand with the other and assumed the damp chill of the dungeon had made its way into her joints.
"Professor," she said after class, "Please forgive me if it's not my place to say so; but you look as if a dose of Madam Pomfrey's Pepperup Potion might do you some good."
Taylor had raised her eyebrows at this and a sadness seemed to cross her face.
"Thank you, Miss Granger. I appreciate your concern," she said, "I suggest you move smartly now, though, or you'll be late for your next class."
Phoebe massaged her hand absently as she watched Hermione go. She wasn't totally surprised a student thought she might be ill. She let go of her hand and flexed it. She should never have mended the broken bone herself - but she hadn't been willing to face the hospital wing again that evening.
With a sigh she conjured a mirror and held it up to her face for a frank appraisal.
"Well," she thought dryly, "I certainly look as if I've been living in a dungeon."
Her skin was quite pale, almost waxy. Her hair hung limply around it and her eyes each had dark smudges underneath that looked as if they were trying to creep up and around her eyes. Even her lips had gone nearly as pale as the rest of her face.
Well, there wasn't much Pomfrey could do for her sorry appearance... that wasn't due to a medical condition, after all. She could, however, fix the damnable hand and it was about time Phoebe let her.
When Poppy Pomfrey caught sight of Phoebe walking in to the Hospital wing she raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Are you ill dear?" she asked
"No. Not really." Pheobe said, apparently unconvincingly. Pomfrey gave her a piercing look which clearly communicated the fact that SHE thought Phoebe WAS ill.
"I'm just tired," Phoebe said lightly, managing a weak smile, "I really came because of my hand. I'm afraid I was foolish enough to try and heal a broken bone myself. I did a rather poor job."
She held out her hand and Pomfrey frowned and began to examine it.
"How long ago did you do it?" she asked without looking up.
"About two weeks." Phoebe said.
Pomfrey glanced up with a knowing look. "Hmmmm.... Well I do wish you had come to me earlier dear, but done is done. I'm afraid, however, I'll need to break it again in order to heal it properly."
"Fine."
Pomfrey looked mildly surprised at Phoebe's reaction (or lack of it). Still, she said nothing as she led Phoebe to a chair and placed her hand on a small white metal table beside it. She bustled off to her office returning with a tray holding a wand, a small goblet, and a bottle of Skele-Gro.
"The re-breaking will hurt, I'm afraid," Pomfrey said.
"Fine. Just do it quickly."
Pomfrey sighed, picked up the wand and pointed it at the hand. Phoebe heard a loud snap and felt the pain go racing up her arm. She sat perfectly still, however, merely clenching the other fist very, very hard. Pomfrey waved her wand again and Phoebe felt a funny shift within her hand and the pace lessened a bit. Pomfrey then poured about a dram of Skele-Gro in the goblet and held it out to Phoebe. She made a face but took it with her good hand and drank it quickly trying keep from tasting it.
"Very Good, then," Pomfrey said, "You'll need to sit there for an hour then you may go."
Pomfrey bustled back to her office with the tray and returned with some magazines in hand.
"Forgive me, but I must step out briefly. I will return when it is time for you to leave." Pomfrey then handed Phoebe the magazines and walked swiftly from the otherwise empty ward. Phoebe watched her go then looked down at the magazines. "Teen Witch," and "Quidditch Illustrated." The subscriptions had obviously not been taken with the faculty in mind. She put the magazines down and stared out the window instead.
She didn't know how long she had been lost in her thoughts when the sound of a sharp step distracted her. She looked up... at Severus Snape. He had stopped short upon catching sight of her and looked rooted to the spot.
"Poppy told me she needed to check my ribs," he said, feeling extremely dull-witted but unable to stop talking, "Told me to come on ahead. Said she would be along in a moment. I think she lied."
Phoebe just looked at him and concentrated on breathing. It had suddenly gotten harder, as if the air had grown thicker somehow.
Severus looked at her closely and started at her wan appearence.
"Are you alright?" he asked suddenly.
"Oh... me? Yes, I'm fine. Just resetting a small broken bone." Phoebe managed with a nod of her head toward the hand still lying on the table.
Severus took a step closer and halted with a jerk. Then, with an obvious effort at nonchalance, he asked, "How did you break it?"
That was not a question Phoebe really cared to answer. And the awkwardness of the whole situation reminded her forcibly of adolescence. She shook her head. They were adults and should be well past this.
"It's a long story." She said evasively, then "Oh, do sit down, Severus! We can at least try to behave like adults, can't we?" Her voice quavered just slightly as she finished and Snape felt the bottom of his stomach drop unexpectedly at this. "Damn," he thought, "Why is this so hard? Why in Merlin's Name, do I feel this way?"
His body literally ached to put his lips on her hand and work upward from there... "No!" his brain commanded, "Concentrate on something else!" His heart and his legs, however, weren't listening. The image had been too seductive and they were carrying Severus to the seat next to Phoebe. "Fool!" his brain cried in a last ditch attempt to distract him, but it was useless.
The epithet was lost in the sensation of his lips on hers. He was kissing her, tangling his fingers in her hair, feeling her hands on his face and his neck. Barely pausing for breath he kissed her more deeply and felt her mouth open beneath his. For the next few moments he was feeling alone, no thought. All too soon, however, his brain began to re-assert itself. All of the reasons he shouldn't, couldn't be doing this came back to him in a sick, guilty rush.
He pulled away from her, breathing hard.
"No!," He said in a strangled voice, "No, I can't! I mustn't! Gods, I'm sorry!"
"Why? Why not?" she shot back.
"I've told you," Severus moaned letting his head fall into his hands.
"And I get no say in this? No say even though it is SUPPOSEDLY my welfare you're concerned about?"
Severus' head snapped up. "SUPPOSEDLY? Do you think this is easy? Do you think I'm-"
"I think," Phoebe interrupted, "That you are afraid."
"Of course I am! I told you the Death Eaters-"
"NO! Not of them, of me."
Severus' mouth worked for a minute before he was able to speak, "No, you're wrong. Fear is not... I'm not... I..."
Phoebe moved toward him, gripped the back of his head, and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him with a startling passion. Panicked, Severus pulled away.
"No! No, please Phoebe, I can't! I can't risk it!"
"What, feeling something? Loving someone? Being vulnerable? Trust me, I know what that's like. Do you have any idea how totally vulnerable and afraid it makes ME to say I love YOU? Severus being vulnerable isn't the worst thing in the world anymore! We're no longer defenseless children!"
Severus reached out and put his hands on her face. When he spoke his voice shook. "Phoebe, I am scared witless of letting myself love you. I won't lie about that. But I'm not as frightened of vulnerability or love or any of that as I am of the GUILT. It may kill me but I can't let you be in a position where you are killed because of me! That, I just can't imagine... I can't think... I..."
Then as she had a moment ago he pulled her lips to his and kissed her, almost desperately. After an timeless moment he pulled away, stood, and said resolutely, "I can't." And then he was gone and Phoebe was left alone, again.
