In order to adjust the chapters to make them fit the fan-fic system, I will jump a chapter number, otherwise it just gets too confusing.
Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews. Please keep doing it, and if you haven't a few words will do. (begging now! :o)
Chapter 24
They sat and watched the sun come up, it's blazing light muffled by the retreating mists, splashing its colour over the castle and the dark lakes and on themselves, while they snuggled against a tree with her in his enveloping arms and his cloak around them both for warmth.
There is no Chapter 25
There's no place like home
Chapter 26
They could not afford the time to go on honeymoon, so they had to endure the giggles and stares of the students wherever they went. Not daring to laugh directly in front of him, they targeted Elrin when they caught her on her own; some of them asking sly questions like 'does Professor Snape really sleep? Does he sleep on a bed? One 2nd year, risking his luck, even asked her if she had any unusual marks on her neck. Almost immediately he wished that a Dementor had swallowed him up because everyone froze as the words left his mouth and he saw them gaping, horrified at something behind him. Before she could give the boy short shrift, Severus had taken over. The professor's left eyebrow became characteristically high, as he loomed perilously close over the quivering boy who had to explain to the why he had asked the question.
'Yes, Mr. Abercrombie, you were enquiring about my sleeping arrangements I believe? He enquired dangerously silky.
Elrin privately gave the boy top marks for imagination: something about a hex of bedbugs, and even elaborated on the scales they left behind and the itchiness produced by them. He had fifteen points taken from Ravenclaw and a detention nevertheless, which she thought was a bit stiff, but would not dream of interfering. Elrin had a hard time not laughing, and struggled in her handkerchief behind the little group. Severus glared at her and swept back to his class.
That particular day was a warm day, so many of the staff sat out in the sunshine during their lunch break underneath the ancient Yew in the gardens with the waft of sweet flowers drifting over them, sipping cooled pumpkin juice, or iced coffee. There was just enough shade for those resting below the long splayed limbs of the Yew which reached out to try and catch the hot sun with its' few leaves. The tree doxies had been offered sweets to keep them happy, and they squatted out of sight, peering at the humans below and ripping the sweets apart with their sharp teeth. It had been a busy morning in a busy week. The students needed to be harried about the coming exams, but not too much or they would simply concede defeat. There needed to be a subtle balance and the staff were exhausted trying to find it.
'Such an unusually hot day for this time of year,' sighed Flitwick as he lay back in his chair, stirring his coffee and who allowed the almost imperceptible warm breeze to percolate his robes, 'but it's a delight, a delight.'
It is a curious phenomenon that when mammals slow down with rising temperatures, that the insect world speeds up. Accordingly Minerva set up a few spells to repel boarders, which would only last for an hour, so that enquiring flies and erratic midges turned drunkenly away and left them in peace. Satisfied, she fanned herself and squinted her eyes in the strong light, listening to the birdsong around them. Severus leaned nonchalantly against the crumbling trunk as if for protection and to have a good view of everyone else, as if he were on guard. His hands absently rubbed the swirling bark behind him.
'May I remind you Severus, that the bark is extremely vulnerable, and if you are not careful,' muttered Minerva anxiously looking up, 'you will have the doxies down on us and all hell will break loose.' Apparently they took the guardianship of the four thousand year old yew tree very seriously and by the look of its condition, needed everything it could get. Severus curled his lip as if he would like them to try. The sultry atmosphere made them want to doze off as the sun hit the shrubs and the hot green grass and it was only the shouts of nearby 3rd years playing a game that kept them awake as well as the distant thwock of bludger on beater stick. Severus had half an eye on the ones he could see. Elrin sat by Xiomara and Remus, who was continuing to display a better colour in his face, and growing healthier by the day. His clothes were untidy, but no longer had the patched disgrace of earlier days, so he exuded that unaffected, slightly rough disarray that was very appealing. In addition it was fascinating to notice that his face had begun to relax after the tensions of recent times and good humour and compassion seemed to glow from him like the day itself.
Elrin observed them all surreptitiously as they relaxed in the luxury of the day and as she sneaked a long glance over at her new husband, flushed quietly with the knowledge of him and hid her pride. Suffering in the heat, Severus eventually gave in and made a cooling spell for his heat-absorbing robes and who then gazed into the distance as if he did not desire their company.
Their intimacy stretched across the spatial divide and she could feel the tug of it like a physical binding even with his face averted and concentrating on something in the distance. Conscious of the fact that he was aware of where she was, as well as her every move, she noticed the occasional flick of his eyes towards her, though he pretended not to pay much attention to her. She could tell that he felt guilty about idling there until to her surprise, Remus began to talk to him about the threat that had been hanging over the country for the past week and he responded coolly but civilly.
'Nothing at all,' replied Severus. 'No hint of anything.'
'Do you think it might be a false alarm, some misinformation?' asked Lupin, his hair gently buffeting round his face, the grey in it now quite strong. He was still a very attractive man. Severus saw her looking and narrowed his eyes.
Now don't get angry with Remus because I'm looking at him.
Then stop looking.
A pixie may look at a Wizard.
As long as the pixie knows which House it belongs to.
Very witty. This pixie knows where her loyalties lie.
'It is not inconceivable,' he frowned at Lupin as she grinned slyly over at him, 'but I don't believe so. The source for this is very reliable.' Speaking of subversive information made her stomach lurch and she wondered if he would be called. He had done what Voldemort wanted but at the thought of his name her stomach dropped yet another foot.
It was strange, but since the wedding, there had begun to be a flow of thoughts between them and she couldn't remember when it first began. They both seemed to slip into it. It didn't happen all the time, just occasionally, when they were most attuned to each other, or that there was a need. Perhaps she would ask Albus if there had been something in the ceremony to explain it. Xiomara, noticing her suddenly pale, quizzed her on how she was, as was usual with her, Elrin was glad of the distraction and the Quidditch teacher asked her many questions until the bell for afternoon lessons sounded. At the exact minute, before anyone else moved, Severus got up and briefly flashed his eyes at her and strode away, robes billowing characteristically behind him. Looking for signs of mischief and mayhem amongst passing students, he was a lone shark swimming in his element, and as she watched him go, she ached for his presence, but she neither demanded nor asked for it. He was doing his duty and she was doing hers: the proprieties must be observed.
That evening, as they both sat reading in his study, now 'their chambers', with a glass of wine each and the gentle crack of the low fire punctuating the quiet, he muttered the occasional oath at his book.
'Popularist!' he said, his teeth gritted. 'He has absolutely no idea about the true significance of Phoenix tears in potion making.'
'Sestosa says in her Phoenix Commentaries,' she replied, '– err – chapter twelve I think, that the mythology surrounding them has obscured the central reasoning. She has some interesting things to say.' She had been hard at work on an initial report on Phoenix Culture for Dumbledore who had an impressive stack of crumbling books for her to research and which had kept her busy. She had also started to take an interest in Charms and was assisting Filius in extra classes. Phoenix though, was something that Albus was encouraging her to concentrate on.
'Does she? There is no scholarly critiquing here, just mumbo jumbo nonsense to entertain 3rd rate potion masters,' he snarled in disgust, examining the cover, as if he wondered why he was reading it. It ended up on the fire and the flames ate it up happily. Grimly he watched it burn, then lent over and took her copy of Phoenix Commentaries from her side table.
The fire was part of the Beltane bonfire, traditionally brought back to lighten and warm the home until the next year. As the evening went on, she just stared into it, not really hearing him, her book forgotten, remembering the past week. Suddenly aware of her contemplation though he did not move his head only his watchful eyes, he decided that neither of them had had much relaxation and that an indulgence was in order. Writing quickly on parchment and opening a window into the soft night, he called Henrietta and in a short time his black owl came elegantly swooping down. He whispered to her and she left without touching base, clutching his message. As he bent over the back of her chair and kissed the top of her head, she put her arms up to reach his head and leant so far back that he could kiss her lips upside down. They tasted heavenly.
'Severus?' she murmured, 'time for bed?'
'In a minute,' he said, rubbing his eyes, 'I want to finish this. I'll be along if you want to go.' Elrin had a surge of wanting him, and was disappointed that he might be up much later, but nodded in acceptance, and slipped into the inner chamber. There was much to worry about, she thought as she got ready for bed in the huge bathroom, but there was so much peace between them since the wedding, a wide-open peace that stretched like elastic strings between them and that filled her heart with pride and belonging. She sank into the huge bed, the silky eiderdown plump and welcoming, cool sheets shocking her feet.
His wand would be useful. Or his body.
Just as she was falling asleep, she felt the bed move as he was trying to get in without disturbing her.
'Mm,' she murmured face down in the pillow, a satisfied sound, glad to have him there as if she were complete.
Settling, he slipped his hand under the bedclothes and onto her bottom, which was sticking up seductively.
'Ahhh!' she complained, 'your hand is cold.'
'Not any longer,' he smirked and he enfolded her to himself, gathering her as if she were someone scattered, abandoned, lost. Soft moans found their way from her mouth as his arms and his hands wound their way round to her breasts underneath and her waist. 'We are going out Friday night,' he said.
'Where to?'
'Hogsmede.'
'Isn't it still out of bounds?' she asked, concerned, turning over onto her back so that she could see him. Shadows and the flickering night candle illuminated his face and chest.
'Only to the students,' he murmured, his hand spread wide out over her stomach and her insides lurched to his touch, flooding her with her welcoming juices.
'And go to what?' she managed to ask.
'You will find out. You might want to wear something agreeable.'
Curiosity piqued her. 'Tell me,' she said.
'No,' he replied, half smiling.
'I want to know,' she said, lifting herself up to him. The one hand on her stomach pressed and his other pushed her head down.
'Turn over,' he ordered.
'No,' she said, deciding to be difficult. 'If you won't tell me where we are going,' she giggled.
'Now you know better than to thwart me,' he said, delighted at her obstinacy. 'Let me read you,' and he held her face with one hand and peered into it. She remembered the 3rd year boy who crumbled before him. He sneered at what he saw in her eyes. 'My word is your law.'
'That's what you think,' she smirked back at him.
'You may live to regret your disobedience,' he said as he kissed her shoulder. 'Hold me. No, not there,' he said as if speaking to a 1st year, and she slipped her hand down his belly fur into the damp heat of his groin and gripped his growing strength, feeling the sway of his testicles against her hand.
'Is that what you wanted?' she whispered into his groaning mouth. As he manoeuvred himself to get into a better position, she loosened her grip and as quick as a flash he had flipped her onto her stomach. She could not imagine how he had done it, it was such a fast movement, beautiful in its' grace and power, but with her face plunged back into the pillow, she was defenceless as usual. She could not stop laughing.
'Laugh at me in front of my students my dear?' he growled now with his full weight on her. 'That is an extremely dangerous thing to do,'
'I didn't laugh,' she protested.
'Don't lie to me. I saw you, suffocating into your handkerchief.'
'I'm so sorry,' she said, attempting to stifle her merriment. 'I know what your authority means to y…and broke down into laughter again. 'It's just that they think….'
'What do they think?' he breathed softly.
'That….that you're a…'
'Go on….dig yourself a hole to fall into and I will shovel the dirt over you.'
'…..a vampire.'
The idea was hardly new to him. 'How do you know,' he said coolly, 'that they are not wrong?' His mouth was close to her exposed neck, the length of his body heavy on her and she could feel his ribs on her back, his hardness pinned between his stomach and the cheeks of her bottom and his legs entwined with hers, the bedclothes half off. 'We could give them something to talk about. One bite and you would live eternally with me,' he said, blowing the fine hairs on her neck and then began sucking and biting her soft skin. 'You taste nice,' he added and watched appreciatively as a red mark bloomed on her neck. She juddered under his imitations of consumption of her. 'It's my mark of possession,' he continued, ignoring her movements.
'Don't I have enough indications to say that I am yours?' she managed to say.
'No, never enough, I want it written all over you, in ink. I want to be able to slice you through and find my ownership all the way through.'
'Like Blackpool rock,' she said, sighing.
'Like what?' he asked, preoccupied.
'Muggle confectionary,' she gasped. 'Long, cylindrical and hard….' And her voice trailed away. 'What are you doing?' she asked, slightly disconcerted as he grabbed his own pillows, then pushed them under her hips and swiftly whisked away her own. As he brushed the remaining bedclothes away, she could feel her hips high in the cooler air. He quickly put a warning hand on her neck as he was giving her his full attention.
'I think it is fairly obvious what I am doing,' he rebuked as he slid his hands over her smoothness, relishing the succulence of her soft, wide rump. Then he softly moved his finger into the swollen fruit that nestled in between her thighs, into the dark crevice and as he began to spin his finger slowly, listened to her beginning to pant. She inhaled loudly clutching the carved wooden bed head, but could get no grip on it.
'Is this mine?' he growled as he shot back up to her head, his hair swirling with him.
'It's mine, if you hadn't noticed,' she replied, inhaling the particular smell of his arousal and wanting him in her arms. She tried to tug at him, but he shifted back.
'Then maybe I will have to make you think differently,' he said pushing his tongue into her interior privacy. She bucked and he was pleased to notice her legs jerk so that she was almost kneeling.
'Are you challenging my authority?'
'What authority,' she replied, desperate.
'The authority of having you under my power. You cannot move an inch.'
'Oh, that power..' she said, moaning.
'I will have my pleasure then,' he said, caressing the soft skin on the back of her thighs with his other hand.
'Then….take it,' she said, beginning to be frantic. 'I'm hardly in a position to stop you.'
'But I want you to say that this is mine.'
'No,' she replied, grinning to herself. 'But it's for your pleasure,' she conceded.
'What did you say?' he asked, swiftly lifting his head as if he were slightly deaf.
'You heard, Professor.'
He smacked her smartly on the rump and it stung slightly.
'That is for your cheek,' he said, mock annoyance evident.
'Ow. I said that it's for your pleasure,' she said louder, 'your pleasure only. As well as mine of course.'
'Do you want that pleasure?'
'Of course I want it.'
'Do you want it? Plain and simple.'
'I want it,' she said, swallowing.
'Now that didn't take much did it?' he said, manoeuvring his tongue and nose in a steady rhythm until she nearly screamed, her nectar in full flow, pulling the sheets out from their moorings and hiding her face in them.
'So whose is it?'
'Mine.' Her legs stiffened. 'Severus….?' Came her muffled voice.
'Mm? My dear?'
She swore under her breath, which made him smile happily.
'Just please….'
'Please what?'
'Take what is yours…..'
'Ah, so it is mine?'
'Yes, sweetheart, it is yours,' she said, giving in.
'The best torture is pleasure, not pain, you know that?'
'Skip the philosophy Severus,' she growled.
And get on with it.
In response to her gathering irritation, he mounted her and with a grunt, pushed her legs out with his own, so that they were still wider spread and penetrated into the eager, slippery cavern of her body. She was so silky with need and passion that his movement was easy and clutching her rear, he pushed shallow several times, then deep, rhythmically keeping it up, driving her crazy.
'You're wonderful,' she whimpered.
'And you,' he panted, 'need some firm discipline.'
As she moved back and forth to his slow thrusting, he leaned over her and with his hands, searched for the sensitive nub at the heart of her sexuality, which urged her to a peak of craving. Gradually, her want began to bloom into a plant of huge proportions, and she cried out for mercy from him. At that point he took her harder, vehemently, furiously, took her with his might, with the deadly zeal that was locked up in his life. His need slammed into her yielding body like it was the end of the world. Ignoring her cries, which might have been of joy, might have been of pain, he jammed his heat into her with gritted teeth. Flashes of Death Eater meetings, of his trial, of Dumbledore refusing him the Dark Arts post, of the first time he saw her with Fawkes, of the Veritaserum close to her lips, of her failed Valentine seduction, of him hurling a Forbidden curse at her, of her lying spread-eagled on the library table, of her first reading of the parchments, of her opening the door to him in her wedding dress and her sweet cry in his ear as they rose on the Serpent's back. His taking matched her needs, and her taking of him inside her body as far as it would go matched his needs and at some point there was neither taking nor receiving but one magnificent whole, a bursting of bliss and the whole of their bodies vibrated as they came together. She wasn't sure if she imagined it, but she thought she saw a flash of light as they did so. For a while he lay exhausted on top of her, his limbs abandoned, heart thumping against her, his cheek resting by hers. The ripping orgasm that had swept through her was still echoing in her chest, filled as it was with a kind of solid bliss and her throbbing had slowed to a gentle pulsating while her entire body relaxed. Her soul was so open, so wide open it encompassed the world, encompassed all lovers, all those without love, in relationships and out of them. And as that openness focussed on one dark haired figure, stretched out over her, spent, given of himself, taken his need and satisfied her need, she could not love him enough. Her inadequacy to show how much she adored every sensuous movement of his, every stab of his black eyes, every part of his body, every part of his wizard mastership, every part of his abrasive intelligence, every piece of DNA that made him up out of his ancestors, made her sigh. It even included his dark history against which he rebelled because it brought him to this point and to her. As he gently moved off her, she took the opportunity to grasp him round the shoulders and hold him to her. Groggily, he snuggled into her arms and laid his head between her breasts. Lying there stroking his hair and holding his head, she kissed his ear and then not even knowing if he was still awake, with hot breath whispered,
'I never want to lose you.'
'Nor I you. I am yours for as long as you want me,' he said quietly as he drifted off to sleep, leaving her awake and listening to the slap of water below their window.
It was the morning after when a student stammered at his office door about him having a visitor. Someone who wanted to see both he and Elrin. She shook her head at Severus, looking up from her studies, as ignorant as he.
'Who is it boy?' he rasped, suspicious.
'I don't know sir,' panted the anxious 1st year, pale and shaky, desperate to get away from the monster's lair before he had marks taken off Hufflepuff or given detention or was savaged or flogged. P-professor McGonagall just told me to g-get you. They are in the visitor's drawing room.'
'Thank you Mr.Bones.'
Amazed at the civility, the young boy stood transfixed for a second or two, mouth open.
'Well?' snapped the professor.
'Nothing sir,' he cried, and disappeared as fast as his little legs could carry him.
When they arrived at the door of the drawing room, Severus opened it and indicated that she should enter first. At first, they weren't sure if anyone was still there. The grandness of the room was staggering, sunlight streaming dusty through the French doors with a view out onto the lake. All around them were empty chairs with their heavy brocade and silks scattered around and the grand piano stood unused by the window. A fire was lit although it was perfectly warm and as she went further in, she could see above one of the fireside chairs the top of the head of a grey haired man. He stood up slowly and turned to them both; he was not tall, probably the same height as herself. She almost gasped with the shock, as she realized who it must be. His grey hair was long like Malfoy's and he carried a silver walking stick and to add to his ensemble, around his elegant shoulders fell a deep black cape. Perhaps it was an old fashioned style, for Lucius' imitation was imperfect compared to the casual worn elegance of this upright seventy year old. The face looking at her, was however, Severus'. Or at least it was so like his as to be shocking. His hair wispy and thin, had obviously been black, for his rheumy eyes blazed out like the darkest night and they raked her mercilessly. However, the eyes had little in them, despite the likeness and his Snape nose was over dominant in his face. Severus was behind her and she could hear his intake of breath, but nothing more. The silence was excruciating. The old man obviously found it amusing.
'Severus.'
'Father,' he said, bowing.
'Sir,' he snapped.
'Sir,' the son corrected sharply.
Not being sure what the tension was between them, she looked at Severus.
You said he was dead.
I am dead to him. He is to me.
So two dead men are talking?
'She does not know does she?'
Elrin felt her hackles rise and heard Aunt Dorothy's snide comment in her head.
Whose she, the cat's mother?
He must have seen the look on her face as well as her stiffened posture.
'Please do forgive me,' he drawled in a tone not unlike Lucius' where forgiveness was not his intent. 'Let me introduce myself. I am – Sinclair Snape: Snape senior.'
'He is, or rather was, my father.' muttered Severus now at her side protectively. 'And this,' he continued without letting either of them speak and with a hard tone in his voice 'is my wife, Elrin.'
'How do you do, my dear,' and he held out a fine gloved hand and kissed hers. She saw him pause and avoid the ring, but said nothing. She wondered whether she was supposed to curtsey, but decided that she would not.
'Perhaps a hug from a member of the family is in order?' he asked. This man was neither reptilian nor repulsive although his likeness to Severus was disconcerting, but she was unwilling to embrace this abrasive stranger. It was disturbing that the relationship of father and son was misaligned and she had too recently been assaulted by Lucius to be willing to embrace anyone else quite so soon. Without more information, she withheld her affections. She would not be bullied into hugging.
'Perhaps not,' he murmured, almost approvingly. 'My son, that was,' he continued as if Severus were not standing monumentally real in front of him, a powerful echo of his blood line, 'Disgraced himself.'
'Fa - sir,' corrected her husband, gritting his teeth. 'Do we have to go over this?'
'She needs to know Severus,' he explained as if to a child. 'Always the secretive one. You don't change.'
She wanted to scream that he did, but she held her tongue. Aunt Dorothy always pulled that one on her.
You're just like your mother. A lazy, muddle headed – weirdo. You never fitted in.
'What is worse, he continues to disgrace the name of wizard.'
She knew, though she could not see, that Severus was clutching thin air with his hands.
'Why Dumbledore puts up with you I can't imagine.'
Deciding to speak, she asked, 'Are you talking about the trial all those years ago?'
'Yes!' the old man spat. 'You,' he said coldly to her, 'could not imagine what that would be like. My son – the Death Eater!'
'Father…' Severus pleaded. The longing in his voice shot through her like a spear.
'Sir!' shouted his father. He suddenly stopped in his tirade and his eyes flicked down to her stomach.
'Were you with child that you needed to marry so quickly?'
Severus' body went rigid in fury. 'You dare insult my wife. No, she was not.'
'Sir, Severus.' The old man seemed pleased at the rage he produced. 'You dare insult my wife - Sir.'
His son was shivering with rage.
'But to make matters worse, he is still up to his tricks, are you not Severus?'
She glanced at her lover and observed a flicker of a warning there.
He knows nothing.
Why don't you tell him?
He must not know.
'You use this roof over your head; abuse Dumbledore's integrity and loyalty to boot by sneaking off to indulge in your old dirty life. Death Eater scum!' It was the turn of the father to shake.
Severus was silent.
She clutched his hand and since they were standing so close, could not be seen holding hands. She squeezed his and he answered.
'You're a lousy and mean teacher too. You should have gone into research.'
'After – afterwards, I had little option, – sir.'
'You are totally prejudiced against other houses. You put Slytherin into dishonour with your favouritism and disposition. Slytherin was always proud, oh, yes, and championed excellence, but you, you have taken it to an all time low! Oh, I hear all about it, mark my words.' This last was delivered with all the condescension he could manage, which was not difficult. She wasn't sure how much more Severus could take, but his hand squeezed hers.
'I think you should know what kind of loser you have married,' he said triumphantly. 'He always was, and always will be the runt of the family.'
Stung, she lifted herself up as tall as she could manage.
'I married a man I am proud of,' she seethed, ice dropping from every syllable. 'And always will be.'
Her chill found an entry in the old man's armour.
'Loyalty. Fascinating. You found yourself a rare woman, Severus. I admit that,' he said smiling at her. 'Even if she is a half-witch.'
The shock hit her but he responded fast.
'Elrin is not a half-witch, she's a Sorcerer!' He had obviously not meant to say it, but his patience had snapped. His father found it easy to get under his skin like no one else. Both she and the old man were astounded.
'IS she?' asked the old man, surprise in his voice.
Am I?
Yes.
Why did you not say? And what does it mean?
I will tell you later.
'Have you – ' turned Snape senior to her suddenly, 'taken the Patriarchium?'
It was her turn to freeze.
What did he know?
It's all right. You can say if you want to.
'Yes I have,' she said, unsure of why she was admitting it but at least omitted how as well as the all important cure.
'Well, well, all is not lost then. Something even rarer and spirited too. Someone who values the old ways. I cannot imagine how you managed to acquire her Severus.'
'He did not pick me out like a breeding horse,' she snapped.
She could see where he got many of his mannerisms from, the family style and much of his looks, but the complexity of the man whose hand gripped hers was a completely different being and was never so obvious as at that moment.
'Pity the Patriarchium doesn't work the other way around. Perhaps you could knock some sense into this husband of yours.'
Not son.
He began to loom over his father.
'I forget how tall you are Severus. Like your mother I suppose.'
At the mention of her name, Severus growled.
'You should have given them to me and He Who Must Not Be Named would never have got them!'
'He hasn't got them,' snapped the younger man.
'You must have given them to him – while you were – with him!' the older shouted.
'No,' said Severus quietly, looking away to the fire. 'I never did. I don't know why. They never seemed relevant. They were a locked secret.' He lifted his head up quickly, 'And you thought all this time that I had given them away to – The Dark Lord?'
'Frankly yes. But the guardianship should have come to me!' the old man hissed and she realized the real core of his bitterness against his son. There lay the nugget of poison.
'But no, her favourite, she had to leave the parchments to you! An eleven year old lanky, greasy child with his nose everlastingly in his books!'
Horrified, she waited for Severus to say or do something, but he stood rigid.
Sweetheart?
There was no answer to her call. He was frozen.
'I believe' she said with a strong directive in her voice that echoed in the endless silence. 'that it's time to go, Severus.' He whipped his head round to her and stared at her for a long second or two. She wondered if she had said the right thing and her heart almost stopped beating.
'Yes! It is time for us to depart,' he snarled and swiftly bowed to his father before pulling her out, leaving the old man in the empty room.
He would not talk about it, and had brushed off any questions before she had hardly opened her mouth. That day was a particularly busy one for the both of them and ten minutes later they were in the headmaster's office. Having handed in her initial examination of the books on Phoenix culture, she was waiting for Severus who was talking about potions exams to Albus, when Fawkes yawned and woke up.
'Good morning Elrin,' he murmured, idly stretching his wings. She walked down the steps to him.
'Good morning Fawkes, I missed you at our wedding.'
'Oh, but I did see it,' he blinked at her. Surprised, she stared at him.
'I didn't see you.'
'I was on the north turret.'
'You couldn't have seen much from there,' she said, slightly offended.
'I saw plenty,' he said, swivelling his head to her. ' I don't have eagle eyes for nothing. They're pretty good you know, better than humans.'
'Oh.'
'It was a splendid sight. I am glad that you both have made it.'
Severus, having finished his talk with the old man, joined her and nodded curtly to the old bird.
'I congratulate you both,' continued Fawkes. 'Would you be kind enough to pass on the message to our dear friend here?' he twinkled, not unlike Dumbledore himself.
'He asked if I would pass on his congratulations to you,' she said, smiling up at Severus.
'I am honoured,' said the professor, bowing low to the phoenix, lower than he had to his father.
'He said that he is honoured,' she translated for him.
'I understood without words,' replied the bird dryly.
'Thank you from me,' she said awkwardly and politely, but really wanted to talk about matters other than pleasantries. 'Fawkes, we made the potion, or rather Severus made it from our translation.'
'More congratulations seem to be in order,' Fawkes replied, tipping his head sideways a little. 'That is splendid.'
'We haven't had much time to bask in the glow of the achievement. It was stolen out of his office.'
Fawkes froze for a second and then rather too casually asked, 'And you know who took it?'
She grasped her husband's sleeve as he was about to walk off, uncomprehending their speech and having urgent work to do.
'He congratulates you on the potion,' she said. 'I've just told him about your making of it.' Severus' face changed from politeness to hostility immediately at the thought of it.
'And you told him – about what happened to it?' he snarled.
'Yes, I did,' and then turned back, 'Fawkes, Severus is pretty sure that it's in the wrong hands.'
'By wrong, you mean….'
'Voldemort, yes, through Malfoy.'
She translated backwards and forth from the bird to the potions master, from her husband to the bird.
'It worked too,' she said as she got excited at the thought, 'Remus let Severus use him as a guinea pig, and he's a changed man, though still his good self,' she added quickly. 'He no longer transforms. And we used a little we had left on me as well.'
'That's excellent,' said Fawkes, still thoughtful. 'Have you noticed any 'changes' to it since you – since you made it?'
'Yes, several times. An improvement each time, gaining in power. We know.'
The phoenix nodded slowly. 'Magnificent, magnificent.' But he looked grave, for all his words.
'It would not be wise,' he said, 'to allow the potion to be turned.'
'Turned?' she asked. Severus looked disgusted when she told him what the bird had said.
'What does he mean?' she asked.
'It can be changed to a substance that is diametrically opposed to its' inherent properties,' said Severus quietly but with a deadly note to his voice. 'In other words, to evil instead of good, poison instead of healing. Though there would be few that would be able to do it.'
Fawkes understood what was being said without translation. She felt her stomach plummet. Something so potent could do so much damage.
'There is one thing that you must not forget,' said the phoenix, pulling himself up straight and regarding her with his enormous eye, his powerful beak in profile, 'that you two have a rare thing going. It is not insignificant.'
'Well, not to us,' she blushed.
'What did he say?' demanded Severus warily.
'Not just to you,' stated the bird.
When she told him hesitatingly, Severus narrowed his eyes at Fawkes. 'Ask him what he means by that.'
The old bird knew the question.
'I just repeat that what you are together is not insignificant,' and to the potion master's chagrin and her disappointment, he said 'Goodbye my dear friends,' and tucked his head into his wing.
Growling, Severus marched out of the office.
'Damn mystical creatures, always obscure,' he muttered, his robes flapping by hers as they walked away, she to the library, he to his class for which he was almost late.
'Perhaps he can't say more. If we knew completely what he meant, it might not be helpful to us.' she suggested.
He sneered. 'I prefer a straightforward creature like Sampeer. Good down to earth little fellow who doesn't talk much. No intellectual games with him.'
'I thought you regarded Fawkes highly?'
'I do, but give a Phoenix an inch and he'll confuse you to death.' He stopped. 'Have you never heard the expression?'
'No,' she laughed. 'He doesn't seem confusing to me.'
He shook his head at the wonderment of women and phoenixes.
'I will no doubt see you later,' he said quickly kissing her as they parted, there being no one around. He smelt so good and she was slightly shocked that his physicality and his powerful psyche could still be so overwhelming to her in an everyday situation. She wanted to buckle at the knees but recovered sufficiently to ask him again where they were going that evening, but he had already swept away, his shoes sounding softly in the corridor.
'I do not imagine that you will want to go by floo powder,' he said grazing his eyes up and down her body, 'not in those clothes. It is also particularly dangerous at the moment.'
She pulled her heavy cloak around her in the cold evening and stared at him in the moonlight, the orb above them, huge and soft, bathed them with its smoldering fullness.
'Don't you trust me?' he laughed condescendingly at her.
She looked from him to the broomstick, level and waiting in front of them, mid air, ebony black and larger than she had ever seen one before and back to him. He waited in silence, the breeze lifting his hair and his cloak in the darkness.
'Of course I do. But this is not something I have ever done before, and really, it scares me.'
'You ride.'
'Not high up in the sky though. Perhaps we could go by floo powder,' she said imploringly.
'You are chickening out.'
'I am.'
'We could go by horse…?' she pleaded.
'It is too dangerous at this time. This is safer.'
She continued to stare aghast at the transport.
'Darling,' he said softly and then swiftly changed to firm, 'get on that broomstick. Now.'
'The Pat…….' and stopped, hastily, going close so that only he could hear, 'I am no longer under the Patriarchium and don't you forget it,' she hissed.
'I never forget it,' he said gravely, looking into her eyes that were dark in the light, then growled dangerously, 'Now get on it, my lady.'
Sulking, she flounced onto it, long shiny black boots flashing as she arranged her clothes. He watched her with approval, then mounted behind her. 'Now turn around and – put your legs over mine.' Puzzled, she did as he bid her, shifting her bare thighs over his trousered ones. 'But then I would have to –?'
'Yes, put your arms around my chest. As she struggled to understand what he had in mind, he said, 'think of a baby monkey clinging to its' mother.' He sneered, 'it is the way we carry small children or the sick elderly.'
'Oh thanks, Severus.'
He held her with one arm around her protectively and with the other, grasped the front end of the broom. She could feel his muscles manoeuvring beneath hers, shrank into his chest, and put her face into his thick woolly scarf. It wasn't wildly comfortable.
'Perge Attorlathe!'
Her insides lurched as they lifted off smoothly, upward. She clutched so hard round his chest he winced and her breath came in small gasps but his chin on the top of her head held her steady. Daring to look out from behind his cloak, she could see that they were level with the treetops and she could see into one of the highlighted windows where Minerva was working late.
'It is imperative that you defrost,' he said, before they went any higher. You are safer relaxing.'
'Defrost?' she squeaked.
'Do you know what the name of my broomstick - Attorlathe means?'
She wondered what he was talking about.
Why would she want to know?
'No.'
'It means 'Venomloather'.
'Oh.'
They went a little higher and she could see Dumbledore's bathroom windows, higher still. The trees of the forest looked like massed broccoli below. The thought of plummeting into them was unthinkable. The lake further along had an oil sleek sheen to it, the castle reflected darkly on its' surface.
'And do you know how much I love you?' he said.
'But you're also crazy,' she panted, but her heart was gradually beginning to slow down. She realized that he was attempting to distract her, and it was beginning to work.
'I know,' he replied.
It said something about her increasing confidence, that she was able to remark, 'You realize that this position is a very – interesting one.'
He smiled, though she could not see it.
'It certainly is. We will have to try it some day,' he murmured, kissing her cheek and squeezing her.
'Now I want you to turn around and sit properly.'
Frozen in position, she could not imagine complying, but something in her took some courage.
'You will hold me.'
'I will hold you.'
Carefully, and without looking down, she moved backwards a little, clutching his arms tight. Swallowing, she kept her eyes on him and slowly manoeuvred one leg over, her bare thigh above her boots flashing white in the gloom. Not able to even express her fears, she stopped, panting. Part of her cloak flapped which shook her.
'Now the other one,' he said calmly, waiting.
Another gulp of air, and she moved her other leg over the broomstick until she was facing the right way. Quickly he grasped her as she began to shake and pulled her in to him so that she could feel his body encompassing hers and almost fused together, thigh to thigh, back to chest, bottom to groin. Nothing was said, but she felt him kiss her hair and then he muttered to Attorlathe and it started to tilt forwards and move forward swiftly. She did not scream. She could not. Bats zipping around them and the occasional drifting owls did not interrupt their flight as the air whipped round their faces and flung their cloaks out, while he had to push her hair from his face in order to see where they were going. Swooping down was the worst. She let out a quiet scream, but he careered onwards, the moon lighting up the murky landscape below and the drifting clouds above. Despite herself, there was something about it that was beginning to appeal to her and she began to relax. 'That's better,' he said, as he felt her slowly gaining confidence and beginning to look around for landmarks.
'That looks like Hogsmede to me,' she said.
'It is.'
'I can see the railway – and the station,' she cried, delighted, forgetting her fears.
They were getting closer and she could see the huddle of small buildings, and what was presumably the high street, though they were not near enough to identify them.
He seemed to be heading for the far end of the street. Never in a million years she thought, would she ever get used to going downward. All her instincts screamed for help, all her thoughts of doom rushed up to greet her and she was convinced that she was going to die.
The Bug and Blanket was on top form for Saturday night. Her mood was high, perhaps because of the relief at still being alive and she remained slightly disorientated for a short while. Their garments and his broomstick was taken from them, his outfit a fresh plain black frockcoat with white silk at throat and wrists. When she took off her cloak and revealed her outfit, the waiter couldn't take his eyes off her. Her bustier, a mix of green and purple velvet laced up the front, showed her small waist perfectly with its' boned structure, but it was her green skirt that really attracted his attention. Gathered up at the front, the skirt revealed her thighs and above-the-knee shiny black boots. Severus glared at him and the young man swiftly turned back into a waiter. Smoothing her hair, which he said was fine, she followed the waiter through the low candlelit tables, carpet soft under their feet. She had forgotten what a deep carpet was like. There was nothing like a well-oiled restaurant to soothe the human psyche. It promised luxurious consumption, of the servicing of one's every desire; it spoke of security, of a wealth of sensuous delights, of eyeing others for delight or consumption, of intimate sharing and perhaps a drowning sexuality afterwards. They settled down in comfort in the same corner with high backed wooden settles where he had proposed to her. Behind a wooden partition they could eat in peace, but could also see out and watch the room if they wanted to with it's quietly chattering inhabitants and the accompanying clink of silver on china. A hag in the corner was crooning low and softly in the background accompanied by a small jazz band. She had a beautiful voice. No one looking at her would have believed it.
'This is wonderful Severus,' she said as they waited for the menu. 'What a wonderful idea.'
'I fear my work has meant that you have had little that you deserve.'
'We are both working, this is fine.'
The meal was delicious of course and they were very hungry, the cold air stimulating their appetite. The lamb chops were particularly delightful, with Onions and Tapenade, Cabbage and Parsnip Purée (she avoided the Monkfish, though it did look appetising). Afterwards he had the Espresso Scented Chocolate Truffles, which were superb and she had Pear Upside Down Cake with Honey Ice cream and Crème Fraîche. To her horror, looking at the price on the menu, he had ordered Chateau Margaux, Premier Grand Cru Classe 1st growth 1790, which she understood was a Cabernet Saivignon.
'Severus…' she had protested later.
'This is a special occasion do you not think?' he said. 'I am not normally extravagant with my money.'
'Except on potion ingredients,' she reminded him, her fork halfway to her mouth with lamb and Tapenade.
'True,' he smirked, his mouth full. They ate comfortably with each other although it was particularly strange to be facing each other at a mealtime, the glow from the low candle hovering on the table, its' light quivering and sparkling on the silverware and the glasses and on their faces. Dining out, and in such an exotic place, was such a rare experience, that she was quietly agog. It was also wonderful not to have to watch the students, or be watched by them, so they both relaxed for the first time in a long time. While talking to her he absently licked his finger and she thought her heart might stop for all time. He noticed her sudden interest and smirked, continuing to do it deliberately and then traced his lower lip while keeping his eyes on her, his wedding band glinting in the light. It took everything she had to remain on her side of the table.
It had been a long day. She wanted to talk about what had happened with his father but felt that it needed exact timing. As usual he was hiding behind his persona, but she could tell that he had been deeply affected. After talking about various school matters, they eventually slipped into a kind of dream state, a stupor of good food and good company and the wine was something she had never experienced before or even dreamt of.
She slipped her leg against his and rubbed it slowly. He half smiled and sat back, savouring his liqueur and she began to talk to him quietly, gently.
'You lied to me,' she said softly.
He looked puzzled for a second, then realized. 'Oh, my father. I have not seen him for twelve years since my trial.' He affected nonchalance, but lowered his head, fiddling with his glass. 'He disowned me then. I deserved it. I could not blame him. I was dead to him, and he was to me. But even though I was acquitted and it is generally known that I had put my life at risk against The Dark Lord, not once but many times to help rectify my foolishness and despite my unending hard work at the school since, he has not altered his opinion of me one speck of dragon's blood.' It was clear that his father's stance staked him through his deepest heart. 'He told me that I no longer existed, that I was no longer his son.'
'I'm so sorry,' she said staring at the opening of the mask that protected him. They continued in silence.
'He came today nevertheless. He asked for you.'
'I cannot imagine why he came. The discussion seemed to be about warning you about me, which is a little on the late side I would have thought.'
Then, not being able to stand to be away from him physically, she joined him on his side of the settle, which was a considerably more private side than hers and massaged his back.
'I think his hurt and anger may go further back than that,' she ventured.
'Oh, the – guardianship legacy? Maybe so,' he sighed. 'He loved my mother, but was jealous of her guardianship and her love for me. He automatically believed that he should have had the parchments because he was the man of the house. It has always, since the protection began, gone to the most appropriate person regardless of gender. He just did not understand. He felt it undermined his authority. To see a mere boy taking what he felt to be his duty…'
'She must have felt that you were the right one. And she was right.'
Feeling and then rubbing the knots in his back, though she could not massage them properly from that angle, made her feel that she was doing something useful. His hand rested on her thigh and as the table shielded her lower half, he squeezed it idly.
'The way your father's so upright and traditionalist – reminds me of…' and she hesitated.
'Malfoy?'
'Yes.'
'He belongs to old-school wizard tradition. The Death Eaters have imitated the style to represent a culture they despise and fear, but also greedily desire. They believe it to be the culture of repression and power. Sometimes it was, but it was never meant to be that.'
'You are a pure blood?'
'Yes, but I don't see anything special in it. Not all pure bloods are like Malfoy and his ilk. Though they would like to think so.'
'But he hates the Death Eaters. That means he's a good man does it not?'
'On the side of a healthy wizarding world, yes. However, my father mixes with many types, including those that he is unaware are dangerous. There are many ears to hear what he speaks freely about and he will not be told so I hear. So he cannot know what I am doing. There is another aspect to it, that, in believing it so fully gives credibility to my…purpose,' and he sighed, 'Which makes what I am doing now, or appear to be doing now, unspeakable to him.' She moved to massage his neck.
'You sit badly.'
'Ahhh, that is so good.'
'He would be proud of you if he knew what you'd done, even since I have known you,' she whispered.
'Maybe.'
'And I am so proud of you,' he said turning to her, his black eyes steady. 'Not many women stand up to him and survive.'
'There is something else. What, may I ask,' she said, stopping her rubbing, 'is a Sorcerer?'
'They are someone who might be mistaken for a Muggle because they tend towards wandless magic. They have the gift of exceptional invocation and are usually spontaneous as well. It is not often used but when their magic is released, it is very powerful.' He pushed a lock or two out of her face and continued to search her face. 'And you are very powerful, you know that.'
'So are you.'
'In a different way.'
'In a different way.'
They stared at one another for what seemed a long time. The chink of glasses and murmuring laughter from the room broke through their contemplation.
'So the Phoenix song comes out as part of my being this?' she asked.
'Yes. Sorcerers are quite rare.'
'What is Albus?' she asked, remembering the wedding ceremony.
'He is a High Mage. He would need to be, to be more than a match for a Necromancer.' She looked puzzled. 'The Dark Lord. Albus is also an Elementalist. I believe he began as one.'
'Hence the four elements he called?'
'Yes.'
'And you are?'
'An Alchemist. My domain of course, being Potions.'
'So why did you not tell me that I was a Sorcerer before?'
'We hadn't realized. Or rather I believe Dumbledore suspected quite some time ago, but he was waiting for me to come to that conclusion. Typical Albus. It's just a name, a label. You already know what powers you possess.'
'Still, it gives me some credibility instead of being known as the Muggle or the half-witch.'
'Do you desire credibility?'
'I – I would be a liar if I said I didn't. Though I wouldn't hold it up as the most important thing to me. She stood to pick up her drink from the other side of the table. Then as she turned back, stood over him to say 'my credibility with my life partner is more important. I am proud of you, you know that?'
'The lanky greasy child?' he sneered, looking up at her, glass in hand.
'The lanky beautiful man with his nose still in his books,' she said and leaned over him, putting her hands on the wood behind him and with a boot-encased knee thrust it between his legs so that he moved his own out in yielding response, trapping him firmly in his seat. Then she kissed him firmly while shielding him from any possible prying eyes with her body. Moving his arms out, glass in hand, he opened his mouth to allow her access and received her probing tongue, and she felt him moan in his throat. He relished her, tasting the mix of smooth alcohol, rich food and her own demanding mouth. They broke apart a little, breath shortened as a flood of emotion roared through both of them. He lifted his mouth up again to her as if pleading for nourishment and succour and his hands lifted to her waist, wanting to pull her down onto him, but stopped himself as they were in a public place. He couldn't be sure that someone would intrude on them in their secluded corner. The journey home wouldn't take long.
It took them a couple of seconds to realize that someone was screaming. Then there were shouts and the sound of shattered china coming from downstairs. Jerking away from their personal world, they saw the nearest alarmed guests made for the stairs. No one got very far however, as there were several Dementors in the doorway.
There is a tribute that has to do with food in the restaurant to Gwen's story 'Redemption.' Perhaps you would like to try it? Link on my favourite stories page.
Perge - Go On (Latin)
Attorlathe- Venomloather (Anglo-Saxon)