It's JKR's world, I just play in it.
Thank you all for your lovely reviews. I want to say something eloquent, but I leave that to the characters.
I'm back from Pittsburgh now, and with a mean case of carpal tunnel aggravation from working on my Slytherin scarf, but, onto Ch. 47.
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While her conversation with the younger Malfoy remained on her mind, Allosia didn't feel right bringing it up with her husband, at least, not while he was still unwell. Truth be told though, she had misgivings about mentioning it at all. She had, after all, agreed to and recognized this particular reality in their lives long ago. That didn't, of course, make it any easier.
Finally, on the last night before the start of summer seminars, she decided could avoid the topic no longer. Snape was sitting up in bed, using the lap desk he'd had since childhood to work on lectures and handouts for his students.
"Severus?" she asked, standing in front of the bed.
He made an interrogative noise, but didn't look up.
"I think you'll want to give me your full attention for this one," she said, her voice unsure and making her sound very young.
He still did not look up. "You always have my full attention," he said, making another notation.
She smiled briefly. "It's about Draco."
Then he looked up. "I was wondering when we would come back to that," he said, smiling in a way most of his students found unpleasant if not downright frightening.
"I can't say I feel entirely right about asking you this –"
"But?" he said, wanting her to come to the point.
"But the conversation, interrogation, I should say, rattled me in the extreme, and I'm not doing very well at pretending it didn't, which I don't think is very fair to you."
He nodded appreciatively, but was still waiting for the bombshell.
"The discussion got off track –"
"As these things are wont to do," he concluded for her.
"Yes. Anyway, he, of course, kept telling us, Albus was there, by the way, about what valuable information he could provide to us, could provide to me."
"What did he say about me Allosia?" Snape asked, feeling she'd never get to the point if he didn't push it.
"He said," she paused and started again, "he said he had forgotten to count how many women he had watched you fuck."
Snape sighed, and tried not to quirk his mouth at her. "And what did you make of this?"
She shook her head and looked at the floor before looking up at him peering intently at her. "I mean, I knew, I know, of course, you said, right at the beginning, it's, it's just that it's very different when someone throws it in your face."
"Sia," he said gently. "Examine his words. He forgot to count, not he lost track. He was being very precise and very cruel, because that it what people who are trying to avoid Veritaserum do. Draco Malfoy has never seen me, fuck, anyone," he paused, to make sure she was listening. "I will not lie to you, I have done things we both wish I had not had to. I havve done the very things he claimed to you to have seen me do. You told me some time ago that you did not want the details, and as such, I do not give them to you. If you'd like me to give you the details, I can and I will. I am at your mercy in this regard. Just please believe me when I tell you, I avoid these situations to the best of my ability, but you have married a pragmatic man, and there are some gifts from some sources it would be unwise, and in fact deadly of me, to refuse."
"You are so reasonable about all this," she said tightly, trying not to cry.
"I see little alternative. To be anything but would be to give it more power over us than it deserves. I am a different man as a Death Eater and I am a different man as a spy. While this may be at odds with whatever romantic notions sustain you, I do my best to pretend you do not exist when I must meet those obligations. It is safest for us both." He looked away then, out loud, his logic sounded less honorable.
"Safe is becoming very distasteful," she said, tears falling and fists clenched.
"Come here," he said, putting the lap desk and papers aside.
She shook her head.
"Sia," he said, his voice low, menacing.
She gave him a pleading look and he made his gaze more insistent in response. Finally, she willed her feet to move and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.
Snape put his arms around her, and she did not respond. When he tightened his grip and tried to lean into her, she began to fight him, all her rage and frustration and tears finally coming to the surface. He let her hit and push at him at first, but it was too maddening, and to let it continue would only imply to them both that she had a right to hate him for choices that he had put into motion long ago but had lost all ability to direct.
"Stop it!" he said, louder and louder, as he grabbed at her wrists and tried to get her to actually look at him. Finally, he pushed her back onto the bed and rolled on top of her, pinning her hands to the mattress.
It was enough to shock her into silence.
They stared at each other for a long moment then, until in a small shuddering voice, she murmured, "Oh gods," and started sobbing again. Snape relaxed his grip and allowed himself to collapse on top of her.
She was grateful for his weight, it as a comfort and some vague connection to the real world, a world that wasn't full of the things their lives were full of. "I'm sorry," she said then.
He lifted his head, leaned up on his elbows and cupped the side of her face in his right hand. "Don't be. Oh, please, don't be. You have every right to be angry with me and worse. My only regret, and the fundamental problem we have to face, is there is no compromise I can offer you, other than information, and even the experience of it, but that hardly seems kind, or useful."
She nodded then. "I know," she said. "And I guess I accept that, but you need to know how very very hard this is for me."
He nodded and bit at his lip. "It would seem facile to tell you I understand. And I'm sorry if it seems unkind of me to tell you to toughen up, but we cannot let, and in fact, I will not allow, the commentary of that wretched ferret of a child destroy my marriage. You need only worry about what I think and feel and what you think and feel. Yes?"
She nodded.
"You're so strong. I need you to continue to be strong, alright?"
She nodded again.
"Now," he said, changing the pitch and inflection of his voice, "what can I do?"
The silence was long, before she found it in her to answer. She was shy suddenly, and a little lost. "Help me disappear," she whispered.
He kissed at her tear stained face, and gave her a slightly quizzical look.
She reached up with her mouth and kissed him, biting at his lower lip, slow and firm. "Take this fight out of me," she said, closing her eyes. She sighed then. "Make it hurt," was the last thing she whispered to him, before tilting her head up to expose her throat. Where he normally would have grinned, he nodded solemnly.
"Look at me," he said, as he ran his nails up and down her thigh with an increasing pressure. "Don't ever forget who I am, and don't ever forget how I feel about you," he said, slowly and emphatically, as he sat back on his heels to remove her clothing.
When she sat up to help him, he pushed her back to the mattress. "No," he said sharply. "You don't move unless I tell you to, understood?"
She nodded, and mouthed, "Thank you," before he descended on her with precise and uncareful hands.
Thank you all for your lovely reviews. I want to say something eloquent, but I leave that to the characters.
I'm back from Pittsburgh now, and with a mean case of carpal tunnel aggravation from working on my Slytherin scarf, but, onto Ch. 47.
-------
While her conversation with the younger Malfoy remained on her mind, Allosia didn't feel right bringing it up with her husband, at least, not while he was still unwell. Truth be told though, she had misgivings about mentioning it at all. She had, after all, agreed to and recognized this particular reality in their lives long ago. That didn't, of course, make it any easier.
Finally, on the last night before the start of summer seminars, she decided could avoid the topic no longer. Snape was sitting up in bed, using the lap desk he'd had since childhood to work on lectures and handouts for his students.
"Severus?" she asked, standing in front of the bed.
He made an interrogative noise, but didn't look up.
"I think you'll want to give me your full attention for this one," she said, her voice unsure and making her sound very young.
He still did not look up. "You always have my full attention," he said, making another notation.
She smiled briefly. "It's about Draco."
Then he looked up. "I was wondering when we would come back to that," he said, smiling in a way most of his students found unpleasant if not downright frightening.
"I can't say I feel entirely right about asking you this –"
"But?" he said, wanting her to come to the point.
"But the conversation, interrogation, I should say, rattled me in the extreme, and I'm not doing very well at pretending it didn't, which I don't think is very fair to you."
He nodded appreciatively, but was still waiting for the bombshell.
"The discussion got off track –"
"As these things are wont to do," he concluded for her.
"Yes. Anyway, he, of course, kept telling us, Albus was there, by the way, about what valuable information he could provide to us, could provide to me."
"What did he say about me Allosia?" Snape asked, feeling she'd never get to the point if he didn't push it.
"He said," she paused and started again, "he said he had forgotten to count how many women he had watched you fuck."
Snape sighed, and tried not to quirk his mouth at her. "And what did you make of this?"
She shook her head and looked at the floor before looking up at him peering intently at her. "I mean, I knew, I know, of course, you said, right at the beginning, it's, it's just that it's very different when someone throws it in your face."
"Sia," he said gently. "Examine his words. He forgot to count, not he lost track. He was being very precise and very cruel, because that it what people who are trying to avoid Veritaserum do. Draco Malfoy has never seen me, fuck, anyone," he paused, to make sure she was listening. "I will not lie to you, I have done things we both wish I had not had to. I havve done the very things he claimed to you to have seen me do. You told me some time ago that you did not want the details, and as such, I do not give them to you. If you'd like me to give you the details, I can and I will. I am at your mercy in this regard. Just please believe me when I tell you, I avoid these situations to the best of my ability, but you have married a pragmatic man, and there are some gifts from some sources it would be unwise, and in fact deadly of me, to refuse."
"You are so reasonable about all this," she said tightly, trying not to cry.
"I see little alternative. To be anything but would be to give it more power over us than it deserves. I am a different man as a Death Eater and I am a different man as a spy. While this may be at odds with whatever romantic notions sustain you, I do my best to pretend you do not exist when I must meet those obligations. It is safest for us both." He looked away then, out loud, his logic sounded less honorable.
"Safe is becoming very distasteful," she said, tears falling and fists clenched.
"Come here," he said, putting the lap desk and papers aside.
She shook her head.
"Sia," he said, his voice low, menacing.
She gave him a pleading look and he made his gaze more insistent in response. Finally, she willed her feet to move and sat stiffly on the edge of the bed.
Snape put his arms around her, and she did not respond. When he tightened his grip and tried to lean into her, she began to fight him, all her rage and frustration and tears finally coming to the surface. He let her hit and push at him at first, but it was too maddening, and to let it continue would only imply to them both that she had a right to hate him for choices that he had put into motion long ago but had lost all ability to direct.
"Stop it!" he said, louder and louder, as he grabbed at her wrists and tried to get her to actually look at him. Finally, he pushed her back onto the bed and rolled on top of her, pinning her hands to the mattress.
It was enough to shock her into silence.
They stared at each other for a long moment then, until in a small shuddering voice, she murmured, "Oh gods," and started sobbing again. Snape relaxed his grip and allowed himself to collapse on top of her.
She was grateful for his weight, it as a comfort and some vague connection to the real world, a world that wasn't full of the things their lives were full of. "I'm sorry," she said then.
He lifted his head, leaned up on his elbows and cupped the side of her face in his right hand. "Don't be. Oh, please, don't be. You have every right to be angry with me and worse. My only regret, and the fundamental problem we have to face, is there is no compromise I can offer you, other than information, and even the experience of it, but that hardly seems kind, or useful."
She nodded then. "I know," she said. "And I guess I accept that, but you need to know how very very hard this is for me."
He nodded and bit at his lip. "It would seem facile to tell you I understand. And I'm sorry if it seems unkind of me to tell you to toughen up, but we cannot let, and in fact, I will not allow, the commentary of that wretched ferret of a child destroy my marriage. You need only worry about what I think and feel and what you think and feel. Yes?"
She nodded.
"You're so strong. I need you to continue to be strong, alright?"
She nodded again.
"Now," he said, changing the pitch and inflection of his voice, "what can I do?"
The silence was long, before she found it in her to answer. She was shy suddenly, and a little lost. "Help me disappear," she whispered.
He kissed at her tear stained face, and gave her a slightly quizzical look.
She reached up with her mouth and kissed him, biting at his lower lip, slow and firm. "Take this fight out of me," she said, closing her eyes. She sighed then. "Make it hurt," was the last thing she whispered to him, before tilting her head up to expose her throat. Where he normally would have grinned, he nodded solemnly.
"Look at me," he said, as he ran his nails up and down her thigh with an increasing pressure. "Don't ever forget who I am, and don't ever forget how I feel about you," he said, slowly and emphatically, as he sat back on his heels to remove her clothing.
When she sat up to help him, he pushed her back to the mattress. "No," he said sharply. "You don't move unless I tell you to, understood?"
She nodded, and mouthed, "Thank you," before he descended on her with precise and uncareful hands.