"I Can't Let You Love Me" chapter 9



Eventually, Phoebe's exhaustion carried her off into a deep sleep. Severus settled her as best he could and then slipped out of her rooms, going straight to his office. He had several of the potions he had in mind on hand but one would have to be brewed. The sooner he started the better.

For a time he was able to focus strictly on the mechanics of finding the phials of already brewed potion and obtaining the ingredients for the one he wished to brew, ticking them off in his head and checking them against the ancient text he had left open. He set his cauldron to simmering and added the first few ingredients carefully. It had been a while since he'd needed to brew this potion and he was determined to get it right. Part of him wanted it right because of the person for whom he brewed it. Another part obsessed on perfection in hopes that the demands of doing it so precisely would distract him from the disturbing thoughts that wanted to chase one another around in his head.

It didn't work. As he watched the solution bubble, his mind kept returning to the thoughts, experiences, and (yes, dammit, Albus) feelings of the night before. He remembered the horrible sensation of fear he'd had when Phoebe turned up missing. His skin had prickled as the nerves dealt with the rush of adrenaline. He'd felt the sudden clammy dampness of a cold sweat and it had felt as if an overlarge fist had reached in and closed itself around his stomach.

How, in the name of all that was sacred, could she have done it? What was she thinking? Well, she probably wasn't thinking at all... that's what got her into this mess. It wasn't thought but feeling that had led them to this small corner of misery in which they both now lived. He was miserable, too. There was no use denying it. This was the very reason he didn't allow himself to care for others!

"Except," He heard Albus' voice echoing in his head, "You do care, Severus and this is not the first time, either."

"Exactly the point," Snape growled to the absent Dumbledore.

Albus' tones echoed once again in his memory, "You can't avoid feeling, Severus. All you can do is try to avoid dealing with your feelings. That, my friend, never works out in the long run."

Severus had begun to grind the pestle harder than was necessary a into the mortar containing chipped unicorn horn. He tipped the fine powder he had made into the cauldron just as the solution started to change color. It would be ready soon. And then? Then what?

Then he would go awaken Phoebe and make her drink all the vile things, topped off by the potion for a dreamless sleep. Then what would he do? Wait, he supposed. His eyes strayed to his desk. It wasn't as if he didn't have a large pile of papers to grade. Of course the students probably wouldn't appreciate him grading their work in his current mood, but that couldn't be helped. He had to do something or he might go mad chasing the thoughts and implications of Phoebe's choice around in his head.

He added the final ingredient and watched dark clouds spread throughout the solution. Just when the liquid seemed to have gone uniformly black clouds of white began to spread through it. When it had turned completely white he watched it simmer for a few moments, finally putting out the fire beneath it and reaching for his silver ladle. He carefully filled a small glass jar with the milky solution and placed it on a tray alongside several other potions, some silver spoons, and two goblets. He filled a large dispensary jar with the remainder of the white potion before picking up the tray with a sigh and heading for the door.

He checked to be sure the corridor was deserted before moving to Phoebe's door. He set the tray down and took out his wand muttering several incantations before the door latch clicked and swung slowly open. He shoved the wand up his sleeve, picked up the tray, and strode through the door, kicking it shut behind him. He stood in the sitting room of Phoebe's quarters for a moment, dreading the task of awakening her. Why? He wondered. Was it simple compassion, not wanting to wake someone who was ill? No. That would be corrected soon enough with the dreamless sleep potion. Why then? He was afraid. He was afraid of what he would see in her eyes when she opened them. Yes. Just as he had been afraid to look in his own eyes in the mirror all those years ago...

He might have stood there procrastinating for quite a bit longer but a sound from the bed room caught his ear. He moved quickly to the threshold and stopped short. Phoebe was moving spasmodically making inarticulate noises of fear and dread. As he watched her movements became more pronounced and her arms moved as if to fend someone off. "Nn, uh, N," her voice said, struggling to form words.

Snape knew he should move to her, awaken her, but his feet had frozen to the spot. He watched, dry mouthed, as her movements became more violent. Her head was shaking, her fists were clenched as, still, she struggled to call out. Finally with a convulsive movement she screamed "NO!" and sat up clenching the quilt. She sat very still catching her breath until, finally, she threw the quilt aside with an angry movement. It was then she saw Severus.

She started violently only to collect herself a split second later. He still hadn't moved, but had tried to compose his face. Finally, Pheobe broke the silence.

"Is that lot for me?" she said, inclining her head toward the tray Severus had nearly forgot he was carrying. He gave himself a mental shake and moved to place it on the bedside table.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

Phoebe put her head in her hand, "Fine. Just please tell me one of them is the dreamless sleep potion."

"Yes, but before you take all this, would you like it if I waited in the sitting room for you to change and get properly in bed?"

"Hmph," Phoebe said a bit ruefully, "I suppose so."

Severus turned gratefully on his heel and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. He spend a few minutes pacing in front of the fireplace trying NOT to think about why he had stood frozen, unable to reach out to awaken Pheobe from her nightmare. When she called him back in she was in bed in flannel pyjamas with a white dressing gown around her shoulders. She sat stiffly, her right hand clutching her left forearm. Severus only just caught himself before he gasped at her appearance. Her face matched the white of the robe almost exactly.

"I brewed a blood potion," he said, picking up the jar of milky liquid, "It will accelerate your body's production of blood. I'm afraid you look like you need it."

Phoebe said nothing as she took doses one healing potion after another, each separated by a precise time interval. By the time Severus filled one of the goblets with the potion for a dreamless sleep she looked queasy. That many potions in succession was enough to make anyone a bit ill, Severus supposed. Still, their administration had been carefully timed and he needed to get them in her before she took the sleep potion and slept for Merlin knew how long.

Her eyelids began fluttering even before she finished the sleep potion, but she resolutely drank it all. Even as Severus took the goblet he could see her drifting off. He eased her back onto her pillow and turned to pull the covers up. He lifted her arms very carefully and placed them beneath the bedding. He was careful not to look at her left forearm as he did so. Feeling oddly parental, he pulled the covers up to her chin, picked up the tray and left.



Her colour seemed closer to that of the ghosts than anything else when she stood, scowling, outside her classroom on Monday. Severus was not entirely sure she shouldn't have begged off classes with some story or other but he'd learned not to argue with her, especially now. While she had grown rather silent and seemed to have become more stubborn and un-movable than ever.

He turned into his own classroom with a scowl and only just heard her take ten points from Gryffindor as he shut his own door. In an odd way he felt sorry for the students in her classes and for their houses. He had a feeling that a great deal of points would be lost today. It wouldn't increase her popularity with the students but, he supposed, it would sound good to Malfoy when Draco told him... as he surely would.

Phoebe had been very silent in the private meeting Dumbledore had with the two of them in his office late Monday afternoon. She nodded when Albus greeted her. She nodded when he asked her to sit. She nodded when he asked how she was feeling. She continued to nod when Albus and Severus agreed that not much was to be done about their "situation" at present save continuing to play their respective parts. When Dumbledore indicated the meeting was over she nodded once more, rose, and left. As he watched her go, Severus realized she hadn't spoken a word.

She asked that night, as she had the night before, for the blood potion and the sleep potion. She took them in silence, thanked him, and left. As Severus stared at the door she had closed behind her, her realized the irony of the situation. He had been worried about what he would say to her once she woke up and was once more out and about. She, however, didn't seem to want to talk to him or anyone else... not even Albus.



Two weeks later, things hadn't improved much and the rest of the faculty could be heard making occasional observations that dungeon life obviously had a detrimental effect on one's disposition. Severus probably didn't help dispel that notion by glaring hatefully at anyone when he caught them saying such things, but he didn't care. He had other things to worry about. He worried about things like the fact that Phoebe's complexion hadn't improved that much, save for the slight green pallor she had developed. He worried about the fact that she still wasn't talking much, except to give class lectures. He was worried that Albus had been right about not expressing emotions, and he was worried that he really didn't know what to do to help.



He was surprised, therefore, when at Friday dinner she said, "We need to talk. Ten O'clock, my sitting room. Use floo." Severus arrived to find Dumbledore had also been invited. He felt his stomach drop. Had the Death Eaters contacted her? Voldemort? She motioned for Severus to sit and he took a chair opposite Albus, who looked concerned. Phoebe sat on her couch only to rise immediately and move behind it. She put both hands on the back of the couch then pulled them up to cross her arms. She looked down for a moment, and took a deep breath.

When she looked up again her jaw was set. "I have a problem from my.. Death Eater initiation," she said grimly.

Snape thought of how pale she had been. "A health problem?" he asked.

She looked away and shook her head ruefully, "After a fashion, I suppose," she said heavily.

"Child, what is it?" Albus asked in a gentle voice.

Phoebe continued to look away from both Severus and Albus as she spoke in a remarkably dead voice, "I'm pregnant."