Thanks for the mention Arachnes Child – I love your story – keep it coming….
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Enjoy.
Ring around the moonChapter twenty
Nothing had really been decided, but since there was no way that Elrin could or would take the potion and since it was inconceivable that Severus would poison her, the only route appeared to be that he would have to give up his double life. Although he hated it, it had given him a purpose for living, a constant debt paid for that which he could never pay in full, but more importantly, it was a unique and pivotal role that might save the school as well as the wider world. Elrin knew this, but could see no other route – she could not give her soul, even to such as the man she loved as a sacrifice. Giving her life, she could understand, but not to be a living robot. Throughout next day, neither of them having slept, he looked paper thin white and drawn, his eyes in despair, and spent most of the hours haunting the corridors, snapping and snarling at any unfortunate student that happened to be in his path and searching out potential troublemakers with extra zeal – Gryffindors naturally.
Elrin he faced with shame and guilt, his thoughts pulling him this way and that and once her anger had died down she watched him suffer with her own brand of agony. Part of her was angry at the notion that Voldemort, from his cowardly hideaway, had stretched out one of those nasty long fingers and planted a dirty fingernail straight onto their souls.
Hadn't he tortured Severus enough? Probably not.
Who would have thought the idea of marriage would have shattered both of them?
A part of her mind dwelt on the thought. Never had she been one of those women to dream of weddings; never had one that many females dreamt of as adolescents and even later. It held no supreme or idle fantasy for her, but once the mysterious significance of matrimony had come out into the open air, it teased her with snatches of images. All the clichés that were secreted in her subconscious danced about in her head, maddening her.
Back in their real world, and not in some futile illusion, she realized that if Severus stopped his spying, then their relationship could be destroyed: she could see – an erosion of something precious – since his self-confidence and resolve was wrapped up in his purpose, even though he hated and feared and dreaded it as did she. Eventually, she found that she had to put the problem to one side, as it was becoming too much to endure and made herself function through the hours without thinking about it.
That morning, as he was dressing after a bath and still hot and damp from it, an inner thrust of tenderness had shot through her entire body at the sight of the vibrancy, the sheer physical presence of him wrapped in the reality of his personality. Seeing her halt in the process of dressing, her soft breasts about to disappear into the folds of her top, he seemed in two minds whether to approach her or not. Culpability and desire held him in equal check. He stood there looking unreadable, feeling angry at being unable to cope with this crisis, as his personal involvement confused him, until she called to him softly. He answered by bending and kissing her quietly on her bare neck and she could feel his wet hair flopping against her face and the heated smell of bath herbs mingled with his own scent. He had looked heartbroken. Mixed feelings of urgently wanting him flooded her body and her mind.
'I love you, Severus. I hate what is happening.'
'I do want to, you know, without this sword over my head,' he said.
'Do what?'
'Marry you.'
'Do you?'
'Of course I do. It would have been the next logical step,' and looked down at his hands, and then at her, 'but always my vocation seemed to be paramount, always more urgent. Perhaps only more habitual.'
Bending down again, he pushed back a long tendril of her hair around her ear and stared blankly at it. She didn't know what to say, because she knew how much of his life had been dedicated to the elimination of not only ignorance, but the threat of despotism and tyranny. His devotion to his parchments and potions and the school, was not the sum total of what he was, and he was being forced into chopping off an important part of himself. In fact, she was part of that brutal choice. He stood between a rock and a hard place and it showed on his face, his eyes dulled and absent. He sat beside her, the side of the bed lowering with his added weight.
'I'm so sorry, my darling,' she said softly and then instinctively gathered him in her arms and he immediately fell into them and they both collapsed both half dressed onto the bed, the rumpled bedclothes still warm beneath them, a mix of silk and ancient lace, fat pillows and plump black eiderdown.
'Do you – want to?' he asked, tentatively, his voice quiet in her ear.
'Well, it's very near breakfast…'
'I meant…. do you…want to…marry?'
She shifted slightly to look at him carefully.
'Is that - a proposal - Professor Snape?'
His dungeon-black eyes glittered for the first time since Malfoy had brought the news that had shattered his world.
'Properly,' he said, 'with you – as yourself, not – with any of that ridiculous nonsense.'
He stared at her, reading her face, unsure as to how she was going to react.
'Will you – marry – me?' The words must have sounded strange in his ears because the look on his face was unreadable: it might have been fear of the answer, but whether it was fear of assent or dissent, it was impossible to say. She kept him waiting because the silence, the whole significance of it, was hovering over their intention and their choice like some kind of bird of omen: an alternative to the harsh decisions they had just been forced to make. It was like a world shift, like standing on a precipice and deciding to jump, like trading one reality for another.
'Yes, my beautiful professor, I will.'
And then his walls crumbled and he sank onto her breasts that were yet free of the moulding corset and she clutched his head against her fiercely. Warm from his bath, he nuzzled her breasts as if he had never met them before and then lifting upwards, pulled her towards him. Interlocked mouths searched for soft lips and firm tongues and as their lower bodies answered to their upper activity, he began to pull off the her clothes in clumsy Muggle fashion, while she clutched at his. White shirt and frockcoat and corset and skirt crumpled together on the floor until they completed the task of feeling hot skin to even hotter skin. He fought to slide his hands over every inch of her smooth marbleness, fumbling with her petticoat which they didn't have time or bother to remove, while she fought to find her favourite places on his body, smoothing down the black pelt of his stomach, running her hands along the sinewy thickness of his arms, stroking his long thighs, then letting her hands slide up high on his soft inner thigh, teasing, until he jerked with the tension of it. She squeezing the lusty substance of his buttocks and caressed his neck, his opulent lips, his jutting nose, his recently shaved jaw. In this war of who could stimulate the most - her wider erotic areas together with his sensuous hands, it was he who had her panting the loudest as he regained the dignity and purpose that he had felt robbed of earlier. He had found her neck to be particularly susceptible and had concentrated on that, and had licked and sucked until she was squirming with a mixture of delight and irritation.
'You vampire,' she swore at him, struggling to get to something more crucial of his and he gasped loudly as she held him by his hard and flailing susceptibility.
'You vixen,' he snarled. Laughing, they struggled; he gained ground and managed to turn her over his knees, and lifting up her petticoat, exposed her naked rump for his delight.
'You are looking for some punishment, my lady.'
'What for?' she exclaimed.
'I'll think of something,' he said, concentrating on the smooth taut texture beneath his hand.
'Typical potions professor!' she shot back.
Grinning, he smacked her firmly.
'You beast! She squirmed unable to move out of his grip. It was easy to keep her down, once she had been placed into position. He smacked her again and became fascinated by the pinkness of the replicated hand showing on her firm roundness. She cried out then but not in pain, and did not struggle but angled her legs open.
'You like this,' he murmured near her ear.
'Let me go,' she said, wiggling again, but laughing. He kissed her bottom and then smacked the other cheek with more care, less harshness, nearer her most sensitive centre. She shuddered.
'You are in for a rough ride with me, you know that,' he said, with undisguised pleasure. Alternating small spankings with caressing her plump and pleasing bottom, he heard her muffled moaning in a pillow. Then turning her over, her resistance minimal, he bent her back over his legs so that she was spread out for his inspection and delectation, and before she could protest, made straight for her own vulnerability and with the same meticulous attention and diligence as he would have in stirring a cauldron, he proceeded to stir her with one finger. That had her exclusive attention and she felt herself being pleasured under his watchful eyes, as she bent her back in what might have looked like pain. If she was suffering, he was enjoying it, and sustained it until she had abandoned all claims on his body and released her own for his control, her arms outstretched by her sides.
'Severus…' she cried, though whether to stop or continue, he was unsure, so he considered the best option was for him to continue. Her arms pleaded with him and he bared his teeth in gratification all the while circling her soft belly with his other hand and using his elbow to keep her flat on her back while he was in an elevated position. She could not rise easily,.
'Are you ready to submit to my superior techniques?' he drawled, the question already answered in his mind.
'No,' she replied with dignity, then stopped as he turned his finger anti-clockwise, twitched and her eyes opened wide in abandonment, her hair thrown about her, glossy in the light.
'Such an easy victim,' he hissed in her ear, and thrust his tongue straight into it.
'You are killing me.'
'What a way to die.'
'I could think of worse.'
'You will yield to me.'
'Never. ahhh,'
'Spread yourself wide to me.'
'ahhhhhh.'
'Give yourself wholly to me.'
'Over my….'
'Surrender yourself to me.'
'Severus…'
'Surrender yourself.'
'Sev…'
'…Surrender.'
'I…I… do, willingly.'
After releasing his hand, he kissed her slowly, and they savoured the intimacy of their mouths. They lay like that for a second or two; lips open, breathing one another's breath.
'You had no other option,' he said, his silken voice low and smiled, a shocking open smile, then lifted himself up and reverted to solemnity, looking at her in wonder. 'You look so beautiful lying there like that. Radiant. Open for me. Just for me.'
She stroked his face, not taking her eyes from his.
'I want you…I want you inside of me, I want all of you. There was never a time that I looked at you without wanting you. All the time.'
He looked as if he might have said something in reply, but he was beyond speech and she was beyond reason and care, lost in the plummeting depths of his eyes. The next moment she felt him move across and climb on top of her, concentration and stealth in his movements and she watched him in fascination, witnessing the intensity and the swaying of his potency as he lowered himself into her soft and dark junction.
'Wait,' she said, and elegantly lifted one leg high over his shoulder, hugging his back with her foot, leaving the other leg under him so that she presented a scissor movement and an complete openness to him. With rapturous excitement he plunged slowly into her body. Tightly, she held onto his arms as he manoeuvred and drove his passion and his sweet darkness into her body and right into her soul. She lifted up to meet him, and they writhed, and between throbbing and contracting, thrusting and sweating, writhing and pressing, grew delirious with each other.
'I love you,' she cried out, muffled against his shoulder.
'My beloved,' he moaned.
Their ride, a swimming, drifting ecstasy, wound its' way through both their hearts and through their blood and through their subtle bodies and through their pasts and through their future. She received his force willingly and gave it back to him and he gave it willingly with all the life-power that he could muster and received it back from her. He was a demon possessed, he was a valiant crusader, he was adrift on an ocean tide. Encircled by faery rings, she was an opened heart, she was a fiery queen, she was a galaxy of shifting stars. Their rhythms built and built until they could stand the joy and the agony no more and both surrendered to each other and to the need of their existence. With a cry that spoke of pain of time past and time present, he reached the summit and found himself not alone and she wept silent tears for no apparent reason.
Sneaking in late for breakfast was no easy feat, and neither accomplished it successfully, even given that their entrance was separated by minutes. They had no real need for secrecy, but neither relished the delight and torment of the students and looks from members of staff. They were spared neither. Someone was always on the lookout: someone was always noticing. Their potions master was bristling with a vibrancy that had the topmost banners on the ceiling quivering and the rather erratic and occasionally unnerving researcher was glowing brighter than a Remembral. It did not take a seventh year genius in the making to work it out. Most of the third years had clocked on long before now but this morning it was so evident that things had reached a head that it almost screamed out into the packed hall like a Howler.
Breakfast was redolent with fruit that morning - grapes, peaches and bananas – and bananas were risky things in front of pre-adolescent presences. Even the innocence of peeling of one could set 4th years into convulsions. The welcoming softness of the grapes and the slithering juiciness of the peaches were more amenable fruits and both of them devoured enough with their cereal to make those sitting next to them wonder at their hasty appetites. Only Hagrid could match them for that. It was Hagrid who told her that after breakfast there was an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix: apparently Dumbledore had some news.
As the Headmaster was speaking, the members of the Order of the Phoenix were quietly listening, scattered on chairs in his office, heads mostly down or staring into the walls, thinking, absorbing. While Elrin was aware of Severus' irritation at the membership of the three students, Harry, Ron and Hermione as well as the dubious (in his opinion) inclusion of Lupin, particularly as he was still in a potentially unstable state, she guiltily wondered more about the addition of Hagrid. Wonderful and faithful as he was, he was still, with the best will in the world, a blabbermouth, but at least she understood Dumbledore's implicit trust in the gentle half-giant. The rest were members of staff: Minerva, Severus and herself. She thought that the students aught to be too busy studying to be involved since they were in their last year, but recognized that since they would involve themselves anyway, it was better to have them with the Order than outside it, acting independently. They had been working like this for some time: if anyone, she was the outsider.
She sat away from Severus since he preferred to lean against the wall, looking his habitually bored self at such occasions, but now she knew that he was taking every in nuance of the proceedings, was checking each member for their potentiality (in his eyes) to egocentricity and foolish independence of behaviour. Still, despite the fact that he masqueraded his indifference, his eyes flicked now and then to check her presence, though they were both aware of each other well enough. There was a warm joining between them, a blissful awareness of each other and images of their passion flashed past her mind constantly, threatening to disrupt her concentration. She felt taller, brighter, moving in liquid beauty, her aura aflame and when she looked at him, even for a second, her inner body leapt and strained to be with him. She imagined that the headmaster twinkled at her before they sat down. He was not twinkling now.
"And since this disturbing news, we need to be on constant alert. I would remind you to keep checking your own sources of information so that we can deal with this new threat."
"Except," complained Lupin, "that we don't know what it is."
"No, but we do know he is building up to something big. There are movements all over the country. We know a situation is coming very quickly. It is considered likely to be a fundamental attack on a place that is especially significant. I want Hogwarts at top security level without the main body of the students knowing. An impossible task, but we need to do it. I will inform the rest of the staff independently.'
"Haven't we always been under threat?" asked Ron now long legged and too tall for his trousers, speaking from a corner seat. There was no doubt, at least from the evidence of his nonchalant posture and his demeanour in voicing that question, that he wanted to appear cool in front of Hermione who was sitting on his left, Harry on his other side.
"Yes, we have. However, my informant has been adamant in his fear that whatever it is – and vague though that description is, is going to happen in the next two weeks and I believe we cannot exclude the school as a possible target."
"With all the wards on it?" Harry looked dubious.
"It may not be a matter of forced entry," Dumbledore continued, his eyes searching out all in the room," So although we cannot know what it is likely to be, I need you all to be extra vigilant on home ground. Anything suspicious, report back to me immediately. Any student, anyone behaving oddly, anything out of the ordinary, please come straight to me."
Minerva piped up, "We have Beltane almost upon us. I presume we will need to cancel Albus?"
Dumbledore drew in his breath, "No, Minerva. We will not. I intend to keep Hogwarts' traditions in place. He wins if we buckle under fear."
"But," she protested, "all the students in the grounds – in the night – goodness knows what mischief half of them will be up to."
"We will do the best we can, as long as we can, Minerva," he said, and stared at her adamantly.
She shook her head as if he were crazy, but did not argue further.
Lupin looked up from where he had been deep in thought.
"Do you not think we should just send the students home?"
"I have considered it, but it would send a message of weakness to Voldemort, and he has his follower's children here. I doubt whether he would directly attack the students. However, I think we should put plans into effect so that, if needed, we could do so in double quick time. Minerva, would you see to that please?
"Yes, Albus," she replied, but the deputy did not look particularly happy about it.
'Thank you everyone, that is enough for now.' Minerva rushed out with Hagrid behind her and Dumbledore retreated to the inner sanctum of his office. Severus left the room, glaring as he passed at the three Gryffindors that were left.
Meanwhile, Elrin went across to where Lupin was sitting, his pale gentle face following her approach.
'Hello Remus. It's good to see you about.'
'Hi Elrin. It's a pleasure to see you too.'
He looked a bit uncomfortable, as if he wanted to hide his unkempt air.
'How are you? She asked and meant it. Seeing him gave her a breath of fresh air – an intelligent man who had a gentle sense of humour and who she had much time for. 'I have to keep out of the way of the main body of students,' he said huskily, 'but provided I keep a low profile, and go back to St.Mungoe's at night, I am fine.
Imagine living in a hospital, only to be let out in the daytime – and then to have to return in the evening…'
As he continued to speak, she felt guilty that she had not visited him in hospital, although she had not had much spare time. She had been so preoccupied with Severus. Touching him on the arm, she felt sorry for him, but also genuinely liked him a great deal. He seemed subdued and it made her feel awkward. Then Harry approached the both of them and as Remus introduced them, she smiled at the tall student, his dark calmness radiating something special. The other two students joined in, delighted to be able to speak to the previous Dark Arts Teacher and he appeared to enjoy their company. Then the subject went onto Beltane.
'What is this festival?' she asked.
'It's an ancient one,' announced Hermione, and although she had not lost her desire to inform, her tone was considerably less patronising than when she had been younger. 'It's the moving from one half of the year to the other, from cold and darkness of winter time to the heat and light of summertime. It's a wedding festival for the Sun God who weds the Goddess – a sexual symbolism of nature's fertility. You might,' she said, 'know them as the May Queen & May King – or again…he's often called the Jack in the Green…'
'Ah, now I have heard of them, thank you Hermione,' she said. Remembering that the girl had been brought up as a Muggle as well, she warmed to her and her clear description.
'We all know you want to be May Queen,' pointed out Ron to Hermione, smirking, redder than she though he should be. They had all grown so much. The boys were lanky and Hermione was a blossoming young woman, though her school robes were not particularly flattering.
'I do not,' said the young woman indignantly. 'And I suppose you want to be Jack in the Green…?'
'You must be joking. All that dressing up.'
'How do you choose who gets the honour?' asked Elrin, aware of Severus' return and his looming presence behind her. The others were suddenly painfully aware of him.
'They put all the 7th year names in a bowl and by magical process, two names come out of it, one male and one female,' said Harry, the only one not to be intimidated.
'Like the Triwizard Tournament?' she asked, not without a feeling of scepticism. Severus sneered. Harry twitched at the thought, 'Yes, a bit like that. Spells and incantations so that no-one cheats.'
'Well,' she said, feeling the shivery pull of him behind her, 'The best of luck to you.'
'Oh, we don't want the honour,' said Hermione 'Overrated I think. It's much more fun being part of the festival.'
Ron appeared to be unconvinced. 'This year might be a bit more stressful.'
'Instead of wasting your time and energies wondering who might be chosen, he growled silkily at the three blank faces. 'I suggest that you concentrate on your potions essays. Not one of you has any reason to be complacent,' he warned as he guided Elrin out of the door, looking back at them menacingly. Hermione folded her arms in disgust after he had left. Fancy placing her in the same category as the other two she huffed to herself.
The next few days were a whirl of getting ready for Beltane, students designing outfits, transforming things into decorations, Hagrid busy hauling wood around, Sprout going crazy in the greenhouse: raising flowers big enough to blow your head off, staff up to their ears in marking while attempting to cool the ardency of youth for the coming event. Questions of who was to be May Queen and King was upper in the mind of many an adolescent, and there was much teasing and torturing as per usual. Questions of another sort where on the minds of the teachers and the Order of the Phoenix.
Elrin and Severus spent what time they could on the remaining parchments, holed up in his office or rooms or out fetching items from Hogsmede's chemist through the fireplace method. Certainly, the problem of Voldemort's demands hung over them like a thundercloud, but they refused to bend to him and generally attempted to bury themselves in working and desperate loving at night. There was the constant dread in her that his arm would start to burn, so she kept a special eye on him for symptoms, but nothing had happened so far.
One particular evening, nearing Beltane, they had the windows open to smell the warm spring air while she was reading and he was writing up some translation notes into his journal, when she remembered something that she had meant to speak to him about.
'Severus…'
'Hum?'
It was often not a good idea to interrupt him in this ritual, but she felt impelled to say something while she remembered.
'Go on,' he muttered, 'I am listening.'
'Did you work on that potion – you know – the one that went blue - afterwards?'
His pen stopped scratching, and only his eyes lifted towards her. His students dreaded the look.
'No,' he said, curtly. He did not like to be reminded of the failure of the potion, though the transformation was peculiar. He still had not investigated it. It made no sense.
'It's - changed again.'
The effect on him was electric.
'What did you say?' he snarled.
'It's altered. That potion.'
'To what?'
'Clear. Like clear water.'
His papers went flying, books falling, his lamp nearly off his desk. He was round it in an instant, robes airborne. In searching for the potion, she was afraid for jars and glass instruments and other precious items as he almost tore the shelf apart.
'Where is it?' he yelled.
'It's here,' she said calmly from behind him, and then went to lift a jar from the rear of a large mottled glass.
'Put it down there – gently,' he said, carefully controlled, eyes burning. His experience in dealing with obliteratingly clumsy students had him in good training for this moment. She did as she was told and watched him approach the jar as if it were a newborn child. He studied the label without touching it. The ward on the top had not been broken.
'You have not touched this?' he asked, a light sweat on his forehead.
'No.'
'I have to ask you again and please answer me truly. Have you touched this liquid, altered it, added anything to it, or done anything that was different?'
'No, Severus, I have not.' She was not offended, but curious.
He shook his head and muttered. She could hear 'not possible'.
Carefully, more carefully than she had ever seen him, he took the jar and warded it into a cupboard.
She took a deep breath to say something but her words never came out.
'Do you realize what this means?' he said excitedly.
'It might work with Remus now?'
'Yes,' he said almost holding his breath, 'It might.' And he threw his arms around her so completely that she was utterly surrounded in black. There was nowhere else she wanted to be. There was a peak of wild happiness for him: a crushing from his body with that dark attire and a sinking into his very being, for her.
Immediately he wanted to get to Lupin that night, but realized that it would not be practicable although sleep that night would undoubtedly be impossible for him. He decided to rise early and send his owl who had been pretty lazy these past few months.
'That'll get the old girl out from her nest to do some serious work.'
'Do you realize how impossible all this is?' he murmured as she began to drift off to sleep that night.
'Yes, my darling,' she said with a smile on her face, spooning snugly into his body, all angles and softness and warmth.
Remus was round in a flash it seemed. An hour after Severus had sent the owl, he arrived in the office, flushed and slightly dishevelled, grey strands sticking out from his head, but himself in complete control. Severus was as tense, pacing the floor before his arrival: breakfast forgotten. She made the guest comfortable and then sat and watched the scene.
'You do understand, don't you, L-Remus, that this, like before, is an experiment, and that you still need to take precautions?' queried the potions master, hovering, eyes burning.
'Of course I do,' was the reply. He glanced at Elrin, as if for support, and she smiled and he looked down.
'Since it is the full moon soon I will come with you to St.Mungoe's then, to observe.'
'I am under close observation at that time. There is no need to trouble yourself Severus. I will not do anything careless this time.'
'No, you won't. But I have my own scientific observations to complete. I have to monitor you.'
'Very well,' said Remus, sounding tired and humbled. Unlike his previous visit, such a time ago, the cavalier spirit seemed to have gone underground: there was a dejected air hidden behind his controlled hope this time. She leant over to him and rested a hand on his sleeve in comfort, but she did not feel that there was anything she could say which would help matters, so she said nothing but sent him something warm from deep in her heart to him. A primeval emotion stirred in the potions master as he sensed her gift, made him jerk slightly as he was still pacing the flagstones and ferociously spun round on him, making Remus jump as if he were guilty of something.
'It may be that you need only one dose, maybe more. I do not know at this time,' he growled.
'Whatever you say, Severus. I will be a good patient. I've had some practice of late,' he said wryly. Give us your best shot. You always were bloody good at it.' The compliment struck some deep chord in his past enemy and she noticed his face soften about the eyes, though his face was critically intensive. Whipping around, he marched over to the cupboard and collected a phial full, watching the soft clear liquid within the glass and it's moist end almost like a lover as he advanced on the waiting patient. The potion master's eyes glittered but his breath stopped in his chest as he administered a small portion into Remus' open mouth.
Some minutes later he checked his patient in the light of the window searching his green iris forever, or so it seemed to Remus.
'It's the same as before…' he declared. 'Except.'
'Except what?' asked Remus. 'For the sake of heaven man, tell me. I 'm not a glass test tube. I have lived with this a long time.'
'There are indications,' said Severus slowly, 'that there is a finer transformation going on,' he said, obviously not considering jubilation too early, particularly after last time, but as he turned to Elrin, she could see a luminous transformation going on his on his own face. He hid it from Remus, but not from her.
'You must rest,' he said brusquely, 'then I will come to you at the weekend to check.
'Thank you Severus,' he said quietly, almost inaudibly.
'It may not have worked,' was the quick reply, walking to his desk.
'I know that. Thank you for trying.'
Severus was stunned.
'I know you….'
'Leave it Remus,' he said.
'Ok,' he said, getting up to go.
'Will you stay for some breakfast?' asked Elrin. She felt rather than saw the dark figure stiffen. 'We haven't had any, have you?'
'-No,' he said, 'I haven't.'
'We'll be sending down to the kitchens for something.'
'Well I –' and he stopped, very aware of the use of the third person plural in her speech and her assumption of hospitality. 'Please,' she said, aware of dark eyes upon her as well as the green. She was acutely conscious of the present restraints of the professor's life and his return to a satisfactory, but hardly homely environment. It seemed like a cold thing to send him straight back there. Severus, however, had no such compunction. Outside his interest in him as a guinea pig, there was none, though his hate had somewhat abated over the years. He was sure he could dig some up though, as Elrin's soft face turned to their visitor and ex-DADA teacher. Saying nothing he rustled parchments about on his desk irritably. There was however, a part of him that was not unpleased.
'Well, ok,' he said, looking around, unsure if Severus would descend on him and throw him out. Amazingly, he did not, and was thus tempted by the warm fire, even with the weather warm outside, as well as the prospect of some delicious late breakfast.
The weekend couldn't come quick enough for either of the two men, but there was one thing that Severus needed to settle before that. It was while he and Elrin were in Hogsmede, after buying some ingredients for the remaining potions as well as some personal shopping, that they stopped in at 'The Bug and Blanket' which didn't sound any better than the pub she had noticed down Knockturn Alley: The Buck and Breeches.' Severus assured her the reputation belied its' name and grinned slyly at her slight unease as they went in. It had the hushed quietness of a monastery and the food of the French and she loved it. After the bustle and stress of shopping, it was heavenly to be lulled into a blissful rest amongst the shadows with the light streaming through onto the tables in an upper room after a wonderful lunch, a drink in front of them. He took a few moments to make a reservation for a dinner for two after Beltane and then came back to where they were sitting. One or two couples were scattered about at tables, talking quietly. It made a change from The Three Broomsticks, which was apt to be rather rowdy at times, with too many students as well as staff to bump into.
'I had to go to Gringotts,' he said, turning to her.
'Yes, you said.'
'I needed to take something out from my strongroom.'
Since her feet were still aching, she responded automatically. 'Hmm.'
It was so tranquil and uninterrupted in their corner that she was surprised to find Severus appearing to pull himself together.
'I have asked you this before, and received your answer, but I need to do this properly,' he said, rather formally she thought, and no soon had she blinked at him, than he had slipped on one knee before her and the hairs on the back of her neck went straight up. To see him bend before her in a public place sent cascades of desire right through her and he had never looked more powerful nor so desirably vulnerable. The contradiction was sweetness to her senses and manna to her inner heart. One person had noticed, but they just elbowed their partner and were sensibly not making a sound.
'Elrin Danse, will you marry me?' The question did not have the same naturalness as the previous one, but instead, there was a style to it and a ceremony to it that she could not deny. The rays of the light from the high window cascaded in, striking him as he knelt, making his hair shimmer in it's deep darkness. To her, the world appeared to cease; it seemed to take her into another realm altogether, something familiar, but entirely ancient.
'Yes, I will, Severus Snape,' she replied gently, observing him look up at her, eyes serious and sharp.
After a moment, in which they both stared at one another, he brought out from his frockcoat pocket, a dark, intricately decorated ring with blood red stones locked into its surface. It looked antiquated and quite, quite arresting. As soon as she saw it, she gaped in astonishment. She had always hated those women who gasped and became orgasmically excited by the sight of a diamond or any of those ordinary Muggle rings when proposed to, but this was something else. It was genuine admiration.
'It's so beautiful, it's so – old. I can feel the centuries from here.'
'It was my mother's and my grandmother's. In fact it goes back many generations. Would you mind if….?' Hesitating, he held it out between a finger and thumb towards her.
'It's like a ring from a dream world.' As she held it, it thrummed in her hands.
'Of course I would love to have it.' And then added lightly, 'as long as you don't mix me up with your mother.'
He pushed his head forward in mock exasperation. 'Do I appear to consider you in that way?'
She smiled, thinking of a certain incident. Standing upright and taking the ring back from her, he took out his wand, placed it on the table and muttered 'Sanctum Divide temporanea. Dictum factum,' and the ring fell apart in two halves, two arcs rolling on the table and falling over with a tiny clatter.
Shocked, she nearly knocked their drinks over. 'Severus,' she cried out, 'what have you done?'
Puzzled, he turned to her. 'What's wrong?'
'The – what you have done to the ring!'
He nodded. 'Ah. You don't do this in your Muggle world then?'
'How could you do that to such a beautiful ring?'
He laughed, and then saw her face. 'It is what we do,' he explained solemnly, 'I have one half, and you have the other. We wear it round our necks in declaration of our betrothal. When we are married, it is joined back as a whole again.'
She was mollified, but was not entirely convinced.
'It then becomes a wedding ring?'
'No, it is the betrothal ring. This is for the woman to wear later. It has been through this process many times, many, many times, through many generations of Snape women. There is no harm done.'
'It felt like a real splitting. Are you sure?' He found her horror and doubt amusing. 'Trust me. Trust me on this.'
'What did you say when you divided it?'
'Sacredly divide temporarily. No sooner said than done.'
She remembered when she had been in the hospital wing, and he had muttered Latin counter-curses in her ear – how she had demanded an interpretation and how he had lovingly, if with suffering patience, acceded.
'Now will you accept your half?'
She took the tiny half and caressed its dark beauty.
'Thank you.'
'We can find a chain to fix it to,' he said, appeasing her, surprised at his own indulgent behaviour. He waved his wand and muttered something she didn't hear, and as a fine chain appeared, muttered again and it became fixed to the half ring.
'Bend your head,' he said quietly, and lifted it over her head and dropped it onto her breast. 'It means I have your heart.'
'What about yours?'
An incantation later, he had pinned his own half to his collar. He looked at her.
'It means you have my pulse, my life blood.'
She was in the office when he returned after the weekend. His hair was wild and his hands agitated. 'It worked, Elrin, it worked. I knew it would. It had to.' And he flung his arms round her, whirling her around. Dizzy and breathless, she laughed and he cried out in happiness. 'Oh the wonder of it. Our work. All that we have done – together… We won't know truly, not for sure, until several months into it, but…it looks good. It looks good. I say that without any real doubt. It is different this time.'
Flushed, he looked down at her. 'Do you know what this could mean?' he asked her triumphantly.
'No?' she beamed, thinking that apart from settling his heart to do something tangible, something great for the community, even as he shunned it, she had no idea. It was typical of him to heal someone he previously hated, and did not care for particularly even now, just as he saved Harry's life several times in earlier years.
'It means…' and he hesitated, 'that the potion will reverse the Patriarchium, if you took it.'
'You don't know that totally,' she said.
'No, he said, 'not absolutely, but I know it as I knew Remus taking it would work. I know it in my guts, in my heart and in my mind, in my experience, in everything I have ever done, good or bad.'
'Enough to risk my individuality with it?'
'Maybe that is too much: you are right,' and he sighed, but he couldn't prevent the look on his face betraying his convictions and his desire. She felt a twinge as she knew he was facing a black hole of Voldemort's wrath when his precious potions master and spy would refuse to give the noxious potion to her, either at Beltane that was in a weeks time or for that matter, at any time. She had not dared to think about that aspect. When it came to it, could she really put him in that position? It would come when he felt the burning on his arm and the ugly inky smudge would crackle and burn and he would be in torment, and the mask – she had almost forgotten the mask – would emerge - though it would be nothing compared to what he would feel later. Would she wait until then to face it? As he rubbed his face against her cheek thoughtfully, she swallowed and spoke against his neck, just where his half-ring was.
'I could try.'
He froze, hardly daring to think, let alone breathe, then burst out excitedly 'My darling, it would work. I know it would.'
'If it doesn't, you will have a puppet, a dead person on your hands.'
'I love you. I will never let anything harm you.'
It was the day before Beltane when they found the potion missing.