Author's notes:

Thank you so much for those that have reviewed - either old readers or new ones – you have no idea how cheering and helpful it is, unless you have your own fanfiction up, and I might put in a plea for those who don't - if they would be kind enough to do so. It needn't be much, or erudite. Just what you think.

I have been calling part of her attire a bodice. I understand that the contemporary term is corset – so I've decided to change it.

                                        Love is the law, law under Will

Chapter nineteen

The dark shadowed, pungent smelling stables, with its sounds of chomping and stamping of horses in their stalls was an aphrodisiac to Elrin, and as she leant over a row of saddles on a wooden horse, towards Severus who was standing immediately on the other side, pulled him to her, while Dobby was saddling up their mounts.

'The hayloft looks very inviting,' she said, whispering to him and he glanced in that direction. A long ladder was leaning up against a high loft above them, a sleeping cat at the top of it.

'When we return perhaps,' he replied just as quietly, a smug half smile flashing across his face, 'though I cannot deliver Serpent sex every time you know….'

'Any kind would be wonderful,' she countered, grinning indulgently, placing her hand on his row of frockcoat buttons and then thrust through the top of his hair so that it flopped back again, fascinated. He widened his eyes at her but bent and kissed her slowly and intently, and they both became absorbed, beginning to breathe shallowly.

'My darling,' he whispered, breaking away.

She swiftly took his hand and before he could stop her, had thrust it from top to bottom of her corset. She had once done that in front of students, and he had not forgotten the shock and the thrill of it. Mind you, she had not been herself at the time at least on this occasion, it was private. However, they had things to attend to.

'Concentrate, my darling, we are going for a ride.'

'Precisely my point,' she sniggered.

'Elrin!' he muttered distractedly, as Dobby emerged from a nearby stall who asked her,

'Would you like a hard bit or no bit at all?'

She had to face away from him, close her eyes and reply without a tremor in her voice. 'A hard bit please.'

As Dobby led Aelfsidene outside for Severus, the sunshine hit the glossy black coat of the mount that eagerly stepped out into the courtyard. The house-elf looked tiny beside the huge creature, but although Aelfsidene was frisky, it took great care not to step on him, for below him those saucer shaped eyes had him under gentle control.

'Thank you Dobby,' said Severus, who greeted his mount and gave the saddle an automatic polish with his gloved hands (though no reflection on Dobby, it was his custom – a rite of magical clearing) and then patted the huge rump in front of him. The wizard's black attire looked hot in the spring sunshine, as he was complete in dress as usual except for his robes and cloak.

'You will need to adjust your stirrups' he said to Elrin, who was already mounted. Fidelius was riding her yesterday, and indeed the stirrups were short enough for a jockey.

Removed from the control of Dobby, Aelfsidene suddenly became fractious and stepped aside from Severus' presence; black tail swishing in protest and eagerness. Elrin watched with delight as the wizard manoeuvred himself so quickly and efficiently to get the better of the horse, and mounted him with apparent effortlessness, adjusting the tails of his frockcoat for ease of riding. The horse accepted the weight and feel of him, but skittered in impatience into one of the old stone walls, hooves echoing in the close of the yard.

In readiness for a prompt departure for at least an hour's ride on a beautiful day, she slid her boots into the adjusted stirrups and was about to urge her own mount out of the courtyard, when Dobby, who was standing happily in front of her below, widened his eyes in dismay. She thought he was looking at her at first, and wondered what was wrong, looking down at herself and her mount, then realized he was looking beyond her and swiftly glancing around, saw a familiar cloaked figure coming through the cobbled entrance.

Hell

The familiar figure had a purposeful walk, though not particularly fast, but gave enough time for Severus to spot him too and wheel his horse round to face him. Severus, she could see, was not pleased, but smiled crookedly at the blonde haired wizard below. At least he could pretend it was the horse he was annoyed at. She however, did not have to pretend and glared at him as an angry rabbit to a cobra and with about as much effectiveness.

'Elrin,' he nodded to her, a mock polite smile that she had seen before, and close up, far too close up in a mountain hideaway.

He was part of that which had tortured her lover and left him for dead in the forest.

'Severus, my dear friend,' he drawled, sneering at her open dislike and contempt. The dear friend kept his seat firm as his mount bounced up and down and loudly pawed the cobbles, snort-spraying anyone within distance of her nostrils. Fortunately for Malfoy, and disappointing her, he avoided it by moving away in disgust, and then casually leaned forward and locked his snake-headed cane onto the bridle.

'I need to have a word with you,' he said, with as little disdain as he could within his voice. She supposed it to pass for friendly, but it had a hurried edge to it.

 'We are just going for a ride Lucius,' said Severus, unwilling to give up his only freedom, his only recreation, his precious riding. The only thing that he did not feel he had to do for duty – either in school or out of it.

'So I can see,' replied the school governor, his cane still holding the bridle as spittle came out of the champing bit, and he held his immaculate black cloak well away from it, distaste open on his face. 'What a good idea.'

It must be important if he is willing to stand there in front of this black fractious bolder of energy and risk his clothes and his dignity.

Then there was silence, or comparative silence with her horse sighing irritably, the screeching of some birds in the trees beyond and Aelfsidene getting more maddened by the minute. Severus looked at her, and though she looked stony back at him, she knew what he was thinking. As Malfoy turned to look at her, his unpleasant grin widening, she could see Severus signal to her with his expression and hands. Angry, but in accordance with his wishes, she dismounted and handed the reins to Malfoy, careful not to let even his gloved hands touch hers.

'No thank you,' he sneered, as he returned the reins with contempt.

'Dobby!' He shouted, knowing that the elf was in earshot. 'The grey. Now.'

'He is your servant no longer,' she returned, equally forcefully.

'Nevertheless,' he said, scanning her up and down, making her blood rise to her face, 'I will have the grey.' Severus, together with his horse unable to go anywhere without running Malfoy down, sat out there while she went inside with Minerva's horse and then watched Dobby hastily magicking tack onto the tall elegant grey – Galadriel -  that Dumbledore rode very occasionally. Habit has a custom of being obeyed regardless of the feelings of the practitioner, but he did not look a happy bunny, his ears slightly back.

'Grrrrr,' he said, while making sure the girth was tight enough.

I'd be tempted to let it remain slightly loose.

'Grrrr indeed,' she agreed.

He saw where her eyes were and grinned.

'Wouldn't I just like that,' he said, beginning to walk the magnificent grey out, the sound of its' slow hooves on the stone floor. 'But the horse might get the wrong end of his cane, or wand.' She nodded, but the image of Malfoy slipping hard into fresh manure below was a cheering thought.

When both the blonde and the black haired wizard were ready, they clattered out into the sunny day, which seemed darker than it had been before.

What mischief was he up to? Why did he always come trotting to Severus?

Although she knew the answer already, knew Malfoy was a weak man, and Severus strong, they had a cultural lineage in common, a history together and a common knowledge of the working of Voldemort's mind. He also knew how much the Death Eaters needed the potions master. She also knew that he liked Severus or at least respected him in the only way a perverted man like Malfoy could. As he went ahead, Severus turned and blew her a kiss, which was a little compensation.

Dobby was shaking his head and moaning and gibbering.

He did not return at supper, or later in the evening, and she was beginning to wonder if he had been taken. Disturbed, she fidgeted about his rooms, sat down to read in his office, and generally wandered about. She considered informing Dumbledore, but did not want to jump to conclusions. Dobby said that the horses had been returned to the stables a couple of hours later but that as far as he knew, Malfoy had gone some time ago, and so it was a puzzle.

While she was waiting and wondering, she came across the potion that had changed into blue, and to her amazement, it had changed again. It was pure and clear, reflecting the crystal jar that it stood in. She didn't think he had been working on it, but then again, he might have. Sitting in front of the low fire, book in hand, she wondered about it, and decided she would have to speak to him about her thoughts on it, regardless of whether they sounded silly or not. She speculated about going and talking to Fawkes, just for company, or maybe even Xiomara, but decided that it was a little too late and eventually dozed off.

To be wakened by something, some sound perhaps, and saw him standing there, watching her, still as a rock. There was pain on his face.

Dopey from sleep and her arms stiff and cramped, she did not register it at first. When she stared again, the look had gone. She heard him get a drink from a cupboard.

'Would you like a drink?' he asked.

'No, no thank you,' then watched him take two. She was beginning to wake up and was about to ask what had happened, what Malfoy had wanted, when he came charging back to her. He did not look directly at her, which was odd, but took her hand so that she was pitched out of the chair towards his rooms.

'Go to bed,' he said forcefully, then held her for a second and tenderly kissed her on the forehead in such a sweet manner that it made her uneasy.

'What's..'

'I have to go to Dumbledore – now, this minute,' he said, turning away from her, still not meeting her eyes.

This is frightening.

'Severus…'

'Do not ask,' he snapped suddenly. Then relented with the look on her face. 'Please.'

And then he was through the fire; livid green flames shooting out behind him, and then silence.

At least he was safe for the time being.

But her stomach felt queasy. Taking herself in hand, she went to bed and after a while, slept heavily.

To be woken with Severus shaking her.

'My love, my beautiful one, come on, wake up, you have to come with me,' and she once again found him in front of her, his face slashed with pain and worry. Fuzzy, she groped for a dressing gown, and then remembered she didn't have one, but he had one of his own for her, ready in his hands.

So his expression of anguish had not been an illusion.

Clumsily, she put it on, and then stared at him.

Pulling her anxiously but solicitously, towards the fireplace in the bedroom, he grabbed enough Floo Powder for two.

'Oh, no,' she had time to say, before he held her close, so close, she could hardly breathe, as if it might be the last time he ever held her and then threw down the powder.

'Professor Dumbledore's Office,' he declared.

'You smell of horse,' she muttered into his chest, and he squeezed her tight as they twirled through the darkness.

By the time they had arrived, she had woken up. Dumbledore was still in his robes rather than night attire, and there lay the remains of tea and crumpets on a table. As she blinked in the light, he clicked his fingers and ordered some more refreshments from the appearing elf.

It had taken her quite a while to get used to that, but she didn't even blink nowadays. Life was certainly strange.

Severus guided her to a chair and she sat down, aware suddenly of the two men's focus on her, her lover looking intent but still this unusual lack of meeting of eyes.

Her heart rate rose a little and she glanced at Dumbledore, hoping for illumination. However, it was Severus who got up and began to pace and then speak after the food had been served and the house elf gone. She felt like a Cornish pixie in a trap or one of those garden pixies that were about to be thrown over the garden fence. Severus' dressing gown, enormous on her and silky, slipped slightly, to reveal a naked shoulder, and she pulled it back up again, as if expecting assault. Severus kept looking at the Headmaster, and the Head just returned it with a tilt of his glasses and said nothing. The tension in the room was mounting. If he did not speak soon, she would burst with irritation.

'Elrin,' he began, attempting to control the level of his voice and the dignity of his professorship, 'we – or rather I have had an uncomfortable communication from Voldemort.'

Yes.

He swallowed and turned so that she might not see his face and with obvious reluctance continued.

'He wants me to, no, commands me to – marry.'

She jerked her head up. Her world tilted.

Recovering, she glared at him – 'AND?'

'To – you.'

The world tilted upright, but it made her more afraid than when it had tilted.

She stood up in shock, the dressing gown slipping again, and she grabbed it once again. 

'At Beltane,' he continued.

'Beltane?' she asked, puzzled.

'It's a festival – in a weeks' time,' interjected Dumbledore.

'Elrin, there is a twist to it,' continued Severus, 'a condition.'

'What evil has he concocted this time?' She was about to be angry. Very angry.

'That I give you a special potion.'

In her horror, she gaped at him.

'What kind of potion?'

Did she have to drag it out of him?

She stared at Dumbledore, because she could not stand the sight of the potions master.

He took a deep breath. 'It is called the Patriarchium - sometimes called the Sovereignty Potion. It is an old – now unused potion – at least in civilized…'

'I don't want,' she hissed at him, 'to know its' history – I want to know what it means.' She could see him wilting under her anger and it was strange to see him like that, but she could not hold herself back.

He did appear distraught.

'It means that I have your soul.'

'You have my soul anyway.'

A grim smile lifted one side of his mouth. 'This is different. It means that you no longer have your own freewill.' He closed his eyes after saying it, as if the worst were said and done. 'You have to do anything I say. Anything at all. Despite your own will and choice and desire, I override everything and anything - you do or say.' Exhausted, he sat down.

'You – may have finished, but I have not,' she stared angrily at the hunched figure.

'My dear, ' said Dumbledore gently, 'I think I will just step outside for a little.'

'No,' she said, 'you are part of this mess, so I require you to stay – if you don't mind.' Her fury knew no bounds. The Head blinked at Severus and stayed still, folding his long hands over his beard.

'Why did you not,' she growled at her lover, 'speak to me about it first? Should I not be the one to know first? Something that concerns me so significantly?'

'I – apologise my love,' he said stiffly, 'we are not the only ones involved here.' He stood up again, perhaps to regain his dignity, perhaps to escape the extreme proximity of her anger that appeared to thrust into him like knives.

'There is more,' he said. She waited, holding her fury, but still explosively angry with him for not telling her immediately – confiding in her. Hiding while he sweated over the problem all evening no doubt, wondering what to do. Not being able to meet her eyes: keeping his secret until he could talk with his confidant. She knew how important the old wizard was to him, but she was so mad, she couldn't hear herself think. Hauling her out in the middle of the night hadn't helped her humour.

'The alternative is that I have been ordered to poison you. You are too potentially dangerous to him. You are either a weapon for them, or a destroyed weapon and it is also a test for me, of my loyalty, since the last – fiasco.'

 'Well, that's a nice choice for you. Marry or kill. And I have the choice to become a living corpse or die. So, from what I understand, you have to make a decision to choose between your work and your private life? The sarcasm dripped out of her. 'I assume you realize that for a woman, that, that is not particularly flattering choice?'

Severus made a pleading look at her that twisted her heart. The tug and pull of their relationship was as strong as it ever was, she could feel the power of it underneath her emotions. Suddenly, all she wanted to do was hold him. She could feel his torment, feel the pain that he had never imagined could exist. Cruciatus was as nothing compared to this.

'I could pretend to take it,' she suggested.

'Yes, you could – except that – Malfoy is going to give you the potion - in person,' he replied.

Molten fury raged in her stomach.

'Can't you just tell him to stuff it?' she said, turning back to the two men.

'Yes,' said the Headmaster, we could, and gladly too. He turned to Severus who had his mouth open, 'Yes, my dear fellow, it is an option. You could finish with all that devilry, since you have been doing it for so long now. You have paid your dues, since that was how you saw it, and even doing it for justice, you have done more than enough.' The potions master looked devastated, as if his life had just been whisked out from under him, but he said nothing, just continued to stare at the old man.