"I Can't Let You Love Me" chapter 13
Phoebe knew it was too good to last, this sitting quietly leaning against him, with his arm around her. All too soon, it seemed, there was a knock on her door. With a sigh she untangled herself from Severus and rose to admit Albus Dumbledore. A variety of emotions seemed to pass over the older wizard's face as he looked searchingly first at Phoebe then at Severus.
"I am glad to see you here, Severus," he finally said warmly as he accepted the chair Phoebe offered.
Phoebe returned to the couch but this time sat without touching Severus. He noted that she had wrapped her arms rather tightly about herself and that her jaw was set. He wanted to say something, but couldn't think what.
"Phoebe," Dumbledore began gently, "How are you feeling?"
"Like hell, and you Albus?"
A ghost of a smile crossed Severus' face, but he held his expression in check.
"I, my dear, am most anxious," Dumbledore said, "About a number of things, not least of which is you."
Phoebe coloured a bit, regretting her sharp retort. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, "I'm... Well I don't know but it's not my usual self."
"Understandable, given the current situation," Dumbledore replied evenly, "Have you given much thought to what you wish to do?"
Phoebe resisted the urge to laugh. "Oh, yes, I've given it plenty of thought. I can hardly think of anything else, can I?" she said bitterly.
Dumbledore leaned forward to place a fatherly hand on Phoebe's knee. She flinched sharply at the unexpected touch then sat perfectly still for a second. "Sorry." she said softly, eyes downcast.
Dumbledore lifted his hand carefully, eyes clouded. "There is no reason you should be sorry," he said gently.
Still Severus said nothing. Damn, he felt so inadequate in this situation! He cursed inwardly, once more, at the part of himself that had let his guard down in the first place. Even Phoebe would be better off if he hadn't...
He was pulled from his thoughts by Phoebe's words.
"I'm no closer to figuring out what I need to do than I was," she said wearily, "I'm not sure I can decide on my own."
"What you need to do, child?" Albus questioned, "Ah, but what do you want to do?"
"You've already asked me that and my answer hasn't changed," Phoebe noted dully, "I want to cast this thing out of me now. Yesterday. Last week. But I'm not sure I even can. Then, again, I'm not sure I can't."
Dumbledore nodded and said nothing, allowing Phoebe to continue, to get it out.
"It's not a simple question in any case," she said now twisting her hands in her lap, "but this makes it all the more difficult. Then a part of me asks if a child has any less right to live just because it might be Malfoy's or ...his. I can't answer that because I'm afraid of what the child is, what it will become. This may sound foolish, I don't know. I've been wondering what Hitler or Grindelwald's mothers would have done if they had known what the children they were carrying would become. Would they assume the evil was inevitable? Some would say that it was."
"We have no way of knowing," Dumbledore said.
"No, we don't. But if there is even a chance that this child could grow to become the plague that destroys humankind... and we all know that's what Voldemort will do given a chance... then do I have a right to indulge in maternal hopes?" Phoebe pounded her fist into the couch angrily, "And who the hell appointed me God that I should be trying to decide whether another being lives, anyway?"
Phoebe's words echoed away into silence which stretched out for several minutes. Finally it was Severus who spoke hating every word he said, "Phoebe I don't think it is in you to terminate this pregnancy." He wanted to tell her to do it, to get down to the Doctor in Hogsmeade and terminate. But he couldn't. "I don't think you can live with executing the life of something that you feel may yet be innocent."
"No," Phoebe's voice was husky, "but can I live with not having done it if our worst fears are true?"
"We will simply do the very best we can, in any case," Dumbledore said firmly.
Phoebe suddenly looked up into his eyes, hers wide with something near panic, "I won't raise this child, I- I just can't!" she said. "You'll have to find someone absolutely trustworthy to raise the child and keep secret who its parents are."
"I am able to do this Phoebe." Dumbledore said simply.
"Are you able to hide the fact that I'm pregnant from Voldemort and the Death Eaters? I can wear loose robes but that will stop working after a time. I mean, even if by some miracle I'm not called to a meeting in the last few months, people here at the castle will notice. Young Master Malfoy is sure to pass along the latest gossip to dear old dad." Her voice had quavered at the last and Pheobe swallowed hard trying not to be nauseous.
"A glamour* should take care of Hogwarts, but I'm afraid some Death Eaters would see through the projected image. Certainly Voldemort himself isn't likely to be fooled," Severus said thoughtfully, "I'll have to do some research."
[*A/N: a glamour or glamourie is an image which is magically projected to fool another. A witch can put on a glamour, for instance, to make herself appear as an old woman]
Dumbledore sighed, "I should go, it would not due for me to be seen spending too much time around Voldemort's newest recruit." He rose and held his hands out to Phoebe. She very gingerly put hers in his. She was so skittish now, and Dumbledore was worried by the change. He squeezed her hands warmly and turned to go.
Phoebe stood watching the door with her back to Severus for several moments. She was fighting the urge to break down like a small child. Oh, how she wanted to! But she knew she could not. She had to keep herself together... if not for her sake for Dumbledore and Severus'. Severus' life already hung in the balance of trust versus mistrust with the Death Eaters. Albus, who fought not for himself but for them all... he stood to lose everything. Damn! She had been a foolish idiot.
Finally, she said, "Severus, you'd better go and get yourself together. You don't want to be seen missing the Quidditch match." Her tone was flat, but firm.
Severus felt that going now probably wasn't the best thing but he didn't know what else to do, so he rose from the couch and walked over to her.
"Phoebe?" he asked.
She closed her eyes. "Yes, Severus?"
"I, well, will you be alright?"
"Of course." she said opening her eyes and leveling her gaze at him, "Just go, it's fine."
Severus brushed her lips with a soft kiss and was gone.
Phoebe immediately went to her washroom and turned on the hot water spigot. When steam was coming off the water flowing from it, she filled the tub with scalding water. She took fresh cake of soap and a scrub brush and lowered herself in.
As students and staff were beginning to stream toward the Quidditch Pitch, Phoebe was trying, yet again, to scrub away the feeling of filth that had plagued her for the last several weeks.
