~Severus, One Year Later~
She sits by the fire in my room, a slight figure in blue and black sipping a cup of that damnably strong coffee she loves so much. I cannot understand how her hands are so steady– after a single cup my own nerves are destroyed and I shake for hours. She told me once that she had drunk so much of the thick, black concoction during the wars that she could no longer sleep without it. She laughs at me, the rare occasions that I give in to her offers, as I struggle to finish the minuscule cup and then pace my dungeons for hours.
Those are the nights she needs me there, I know, and so I cannot refuse what she cannot ask of me. The coffee is always strong, but her fears are stronger by far. I know that our hours of conversation are deliberately engineered to stave off sleep, to prevent those horrible dreams. We have an understanding about those nights; no matter how busy or tired, I always come to her. In return, no matter how upset she is, how lost in fear or memory, she always talks.
I cannot say I enjoy those evenings. Though it has been a year since she returned, some part of me cannot reconcile the girl she was with the woman who sits before me. Her voice still startles me, harsh and broken when it was once so sweet that the simplest song almost made me weep. She does not know that I listened then, as she does not now know that I mourn the loss of her voice far more than the loss of her face or her hand. I reflect often on the twist of fate that took exactly half of her beautiful face– the same twist, perhaps, that pushed her into a temperament shadowy enough to complement my own.
In a bizarre way, the precise bisection of her face attracts me. She has become a physical microcosm of her soul, so balanced between love and bitterness, optimism and despair. She has lost her one great love; he is also scarred by the wars–but then, he was not the one abandoned for a noble cause. He is a hero of his own choosing, while her heroism was born of desperation and anguish.
Perhaps this is why she cannot, will not, return to him. I have seen him, trying to make amends, trying to recapture their past. She doesn't trust him anymore, cannot quite understand his devotion to duty even to the sacrifice of his own happiness. Dumbledore was right– she is no Gryffindor now.
Perhaps it was that need for security, for constancy that drove her towards me. Perhaps it was the simple knowledge that I am no hero, will never be a martyr to any cause. I have played my part, surely, working in the shadows, always out of the path of danger. I cannot flatter myself enough to believe that she fancies my face or body; after her young love, an older man such as I certainly would not be her first choice. The fact that I have kissed her twice in the last year is irrelevant. No. She appreciates my company, and that is all.
I wonder if she knows how often I study her face, how many times she has almost caught me staring. Does she know that she is exquisite? Her hair is slowly darkening after months away from the desert sun, returning to the deep cinnamon color it was when she was a student, and her face is gradually losing its deep tan. Her eyes are still the same, frosty slices of jade, though she still affects the inky black kohl that makes them seem twice their size. Her face is stronger now than it was when she was a girl, weighted with hardship and the memory of terrible deeds.
I watch her now as she gazes into the fire, a momentary pause in our conversation. I persuaded her to sit a while, although she is not in the mood for talking; I invented some desire to learn more of the Bedouin witchcraft she is so versed in. I doubt she realizes that tonight I am the one who needs her presence, that this time it is I who would stave off sleep for a while.
I want her here. It is no more complicated than that. I do not fear dreams or darkness or memories; I merely want her near me for a while longer. She is a silvery bright presence in my rooms, a lovely moment in a tedious day. She turned to me; I looked away quickly, pretending to examine the contents of my cup. I had mercifully managed to avoid drinking her coffee but my nerves were still fluttering like a trapped bird. I felt her eyes on me, piercing through my defenses as deftly as my own spells.
"Why I am still here, Severus? Surely you are not so fascinated with desert arcanum that you would lose so much sleep?"
Her face was not so much puzzled as slightly amused, the eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. She waited long moments for my answer, then rose fluidly and pinned her thin veil across her face.
"I should go. It's late and Nejat needs feeding." She turned to leave the room; I set my cup down hastily and struggle from my own chair. I laid a hand on her arm.
"I will escort you to your rooms."
She eyed me, again amused. "The halls are neither so dangerous nor so long that I cannot find my own way."
I grasped her elbow firmly. "Credit it to my gentlemanly impulses, then. Allow me to walk you there, Anne."
She relented, taking my arm and placing her good hand over the bad against my forearm. I wanted to cover her hands with my own, restrained the impulse.
We strolled along the corridor in a comfortable silence. It was a Friday night, and many of the students were gathered in the halls. I glared at them, obliging their expectations of me, and they scattered to their own common rooms. She chuckled beside me almost inaudibly.
"You do that deliberately, Severus." I nodded solemnly as she chuckled again.
We reached her rooms, lingering by the heavy oak door. She cut a glance at me from the edges of her huge eyes.
"Would you care to come in for a while?" Her voice was gentle and inviting.
"I would not wish to keep you, if you are tired. Besides, I believe you mentioned that your companion needs tending." It took a great effort for me to release her arm. I turned to go but was stopped by her hand on my elbow.
"Please. Stay." I was startled; her eyes twinkled with amusement. "I'll make coffee." She laughed aloud at my sour expression.
Her rooms were surprisingly exotic, located as they were within this crushingly British place. She had arranged around her reminders of her desert life; the air was warm with foreign spices and sweet Turkish flowers. No matter how often I had sat in this same room, I noticed something different every time. She motioned me toward what had become my customary seat, a chair upholstered with fine Arabian leather that was slowly molding itself to my form. Her own chair, covered in Persian needlework, was closer to the fire, revealing her lingering problems with the cold. She raised her wrist, murmuring Arabic to the dusty falcon on the curtain rail. The bird dropped from the railing, landing delicately. She held a frog to the bird's beak, smiling as the treat was snapped out of her hand. The bird returned to her perch with her prize, and Anne wandered into the other room.
She returned, carrying a silver tray laden with cups and pots. She set it down, poured a dark liquid from one pot, and handed it to me. I sipped cautiously, expecting the mind-numbing coffee, surprised to find sweet, milky tea instead. She grinned at my astonishment.
"Oh come. You don't honestly think I didn't know that you hate my coffee?"
She was teasing me, I knew this. She seemed to enjoy it so, watching me grow uncomfortable. I ignored her as best I could, sipping from the cup again. Her chuckle was husky, raising the hairs on the back of my neck.
We sat for a while, each thinking our own thoughts. She broke the silence.
"Severus." I raised my eyes to hers; she had a questioning look on her face.
"May I... ask you something?"
"What is it, Anne?"
My mind raced over the possibilities. She set her cup down on the small inlaid table at her elbow and flowed out of her chair. She had not lowered her veil yet and her eyes were huge and icy against the inky blue fabric. She knelt at my feet, a puddle of dark fabric against the bright oriental carpets.
"Severus, what are we doing?" She scrutinized my face. "What have we been doing, these last few months?"
Her arms crossed on my knees, chin propped on her forearms. I noticed, peripherally, that she was not hiding her maimed hand; she had grown more comfortable with me since she returned. I shifted in my seat, suddenly too warm.
"I believe that we are enjoying each other's company, Anne. Sharing conversation, exchanging ideas. You are not, I assume, unfamiliar with our acquaintance?" I forced a slightly bored tone into my voice, trying to avert her suspicions that I might feel otherwise. She shifted slightly, her fingers brushing the tops of my thighs.
"Is that all?" I said nothing, only gazed at her levelly.
She tried another tack. "Severus, would you say that we have become...friends?" I pondered this for a while, then nodded curtly.
"I suppose that one might say we are friends, yes. Although I am sure that many of our colleagues would express surprise."
She chuckled again. "I'm sure our students would be astounded as well. I don't think they believe that any of the professors actually have lives outside the classroom."
She gazed at me a long while; I could see her calculating her next words. Abruptly, she turned away from me to face the fire. Her form was dark against the leaping flames, a thin nimbus of red outlining her head, shimmering through her layered veils. She seemed suddenly smaller, more vulnerable.
I touched her shoulder tentatively. She jumped slightly. "Anne. Are you all right?"
She turned back to me, suddenly furious. "No, Severus. I'm not okay. I'm very not okay, in fact. I don't understand you at all."
Her face flushed above the veil, her eyes blazing at me. I drew back into my chair, aghast, unable to speak. She flowed to her feet, towering over me.
"Are you blind, Severus? Or are you really as completely clueless as you come off? How is it that we can spend, what, four evenings together out of every week for months and months, and you just don't see it?"
I sat, frozen in my seat. I struggled to form words that I thought would calm her.
"See what, Anne? Please, enlighten me in my ignorance."
She drew a deep, shaky breath; her hands wrung together nervously. I could see her courage deserting her. She turned to flee. I was long acquainted with her tendency to avoid difficult situations by running away– I had seen her do it to Potter many, many times. I lunged out of my chair, grabbing the wrist of her good hand. She whipped around to face me, her eyes angry and refusing to meet mine. I pulled her against my chest, pinning her good arm to me to keep her from bolting. She struggled against me; I wrapped my other arm around her shoulder, trapping her. She stopped suddenly, panting fiercely, then dropped her head onto my shoulder. We stood for a long moment.
"Anne. Calm yourself." She yanked against my hand.
"Stop it. I will not let you run from me." I waited until she stilled again.
"Now. I know you well enough to know that you had more to say to me. Please be kind enough to continue."
She raised her face to me; I was taken aback by the tears glittering in her eyes. She shook her head.
"I can't. It was just a silly thought. I was obviously wrong. I let my temper get away from me. Please, let it go." It was my turn to shake my head.
"I think not, Anne. I do not believe that any thought which has you so upset is just the result of temper. Tell me what you're thinking." I gazed down at her, longing to touch her face. She looked up at me again, her face troubled.
"Can't you see?" She closed her eyes briefly. "Severus, I think I'm falling– have fallen–in love with you. I thought you knew."
My breath stopped in my chest. I couldn't think clearly– had she really said what I thought she said? I sucked in air, gasping like a drowning man. Her eyes glowed up at me, glazed with tears and anxiety. I stared down at her, trying to catch my breath. She smiled wryly, a cynical twist of her lips barely visible beneath her veiling.
"I see. I'm sorry, Severus. I see I did mistake your intentions. I feel so foolish." She looked away from me, blushing.
I seized her chin, turned her face to me. I gazed into her eyes, willing her to see what I could not quite say. I reached across her face, loosening her veil until it fell to the floor, freeing her deep cinnamon hair. It slid onto her shoulders in a rich auburn flood, filling the air with a faint perfume of cardamom and sandalwood. I stroked her cheek, hesitantly, not wanting to frighten her. Her eyes closed languidly as she leaned her face into my hand. I cupped my palm around her jaw.
She sighed slightly, a warm breath against my palm, and I lost control of myself. I lifted her face, sliding my hand down the length of her neck, and brought my lips down on hers. Her mouth was soft and firm, meeting my desperate hunger with ferocious need. Her tongue touched my lips tentatively; my own tongue met hers, exploring. I plundered her mouth, tasting the bitter exotic spices of her coffee mingled with her own smoky flavor. She moaned deep in her throat, clutching my robes in her good hand.
I plunged my hands into her hair, pulling it to my face in fistfuls, breathing in the clean scent of it. I felt intoxicated, dizzied by her body stretched full length against my own. I broke away from her then, taking her good hand in mine. She grinned mischievously as I led her to the bedroom.
~~~~~~
~Anne, the next morning~
I woke with a start; someone held me, muscular arms wrapped around my upper body. I was disoriented, lost in a dream I only half remembered, a dream of stunning green eyes all mixed up with inky black robes. For a moment, I thought I was in Harry's arms.
"Mmm." I froze. "Anne. Are you awake?"
The voice was too deep, too silky to be Harry's voice. I stared into the half-light, wrestling with my memory as the person's left hand cupped my breast. I looked down at the arm; burned into the pale flesh was a dark, twisting design.
The previous evening rushed back into my mind. I sighed, relieved. Severus. I pressed my head under his chin, felt his lips against my hair.
"I'm awake, Severus." I twisted around in his embrace until our noses almost touched. He smiled at me, his dark eyes flickering over my face. I traced his jaw with one finger, then kissed his firm lips. He twined his fingers in my hair close to the base of my neck, drawing me to him, deepening the kiss. I broke away from him, smiling up at his wondering face. I touched his cheek.
"You look happy, Severus." He blinked at me. "I've never seen you smile like that before."
He chuckled dryly. "You should see your own face, Miss Llewellyn. You look positively giddy."
I grinned at him again. "What time is it?" He shook his head. I scrambled over him to the other side of the bed, turning the filigreed silver owl clock so I could see the face.
"Severus! It's almost time for breakfast!" I vaulted out of the bed, my bare feet slapping on the stone floor. Severus stretched lazily as I scurried around the room, trying to locate his clothes.
"Why don't we just skip breakfast?" His voice was low and teasing. "We can have something sent up." I stared at him. He was handsome...
"Tempting, but no. How would it look if you asked for breakfast for two to be sent to my rooms? It would be all over the school in minutes." I grabbed his hand, tugging him to his feet. "No. We have to put in an appearance, just like normal. Do you need to go change?"
He shook his head, amused. "No. I dress fairly consistently. No one will notice if I happen to wear the same garments two days together." He slipped into his trousers, smoothing the soft fabric over his narrow hips. I felt a twinge in my belly as I admired his body appreciatively. He half turned toward me, pulling his shirt on over his shoulders and eyed me solemnly.
"Shouldn't you also be dressing, Anne?" I shook myself slightly and padded over to the large wardrobe. I contemplated my choices, settling on a pair of black trousers and a soft gray tunic. I hurried into them, shoved my feet into soft leather slippers and sat down at the dressing table to arrange my makeup and veils. I outlined my eyes with kohl, almost without watching in the mirror. I chose an opaque, dove gray veil out of a drawer and started to wrap it over my hair. Severus appeared behind me in the mirror, drawing the veil down around my shoulders, laying it aside on the bed.
"Don't wear it today." His voice was throaty and thick with lust. He stroked my hair, coaxing it into a neat braid, tugging a few strands free around my face. He rested his strong hands at the base of my neck. I preened under his touch like a cat, rubbing my cheek against his forearm. He patted my shoulder, moving away from me to slip on his shoes and robe.
I stared at myself in the mirror. The strands floating around my face softened the sharp angles of my cheekbones, created the illusion of fuller cheeks. My eyes, rimmed in dark pencil, were huge and sulky. I almost didn't recognize myself. I touched my scarred cheek, self-conscious, and started to lift the veil off the bed. It was tugged sharply away from my fingers. Severus caught my eye in the mirror.
"Anne. Don't." I suddenly felt miserable, terribly afraid to leave my room for the first time since I had left Edinburgh.
"Severus, I can't. I'm not ready..." He was behind me again, cool hands on my shoulders, steadying me. His eyes met mine again, his voice calm and even.
"I want to see your hair in the sunlight." I stared at him, still shaky. His brow creased slightly. "Anne. I promise you that no one here will treat you badly because of your injury. You know this. You are safe here, everyone knows you. No one cares how you look; they only care about you."
He coaxed me onto my feet, helped me into my robes, and escorted me from the rooms.
~~~~~
We entered the Great Hall together– not an entirely unprecedented event, since we often met in the corridor between our rooms and walked together to discuss students or lessons. He pulled out my chair for me, also not obvious, and took his seat beside me below the long Slytherin banners. I smiled down the table at Hermione and Ron; they flashed matching grins in my direction. I looked away as Harry slipped into his own place beside them. I caught Dumbledore's curious look from the corner of my eye. I nodded at him, then started eating.
The faculty, for a change, lingered at the table long after the students left the hall. I sipped at a cup of tea, deep in discussion with Professor Flitwick; he was quite interested in some of the Charms I had picked up in Turkey. I was midway through description of an unusual levitation spell, when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
Hermione stood over me, supporting her hugely pregnant belly with both hands in the small of her back. Professor Flitwick offered her his chair; I promised to come find him later and demonstrate the levitation spell. Hermione settled herself into the chair and sighed. Severus, no doubt expecting girl talk, eyed us warily, excused himself and slipped out the back entrance. Hermione watched him leave, a speculative expression on her face. She turned back to me as the heavy door closed behind him.
"All right. What's going on?" I ducked my head, sipping my tea.
"What do you mean?" I heard her snort derisively.
"Oh, come on Anne. Late to breakfast, no veils, hair down, completely ridiculous grin... Something's going on, and I want you to tell me what it is." She snitched a piece of toast from my plate.
I debated silently. If I didn't tell her, she would just figure it out on her own. If I did tell her, she might tell Harry...I sighed and met her eyes.
"Let's go for a walk– are you up for it?" She nodded and I helped her out of her chair. We passed Ron and Harry on the way out; Hermione paused to let them know where we were going. I looked away so I wouldn't have to meet Harry's eyes.
We wandered out of the Great Hall, across the small courtyard. I wanted to get well away from the school proper before I told her. I waited until we were out on the lawn to stop and face her.
"You're right, 'Mione. There is something. But you can't laugh or get upset or anything like that." She watched me, slightly concerned. I took a deep breath. "I think I'm in love."
She gaped at me, then hugged me fiercely. "I knew it. I told Ron but he didn't believe me. Who is it?"
"It's Severus." Her jaw dropped, her eyes grew wide. She sat down on the grass, hard.
"'Mione, are you okay? Do you need to go in?" She pushed my hands away.
"No, I'm fine. It's just...a little surprising. You..and...Severus?" Her face was bewildered.
"Yes. We...we...umm...we..." I was too embarrassed to tell her about the night before; my cheeks flamed. A slow grin spread across her face.
"Did you do what I think you did?" I blushed harder. "You did. You naughty thing. Was it good?"
I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. "It was. It was better than good, 'Mione. It was...amazing. I haven't felt like that in so long. He's..he's not like we always thought. He's so...intense, and passionate. He's tender too; he was so gentle, but demanding at the same time." I peeked at her face; she was studying me with a bemused, affectionate smile.
"Is he good to you?" I was surprised at the question; I had expected her to say something cutting.
"He is. He was very careful–God, 'Mione, he was actually nervous at first, like he was going to break me or something." I grinned with the memory. "But later..."
She grabbed me in another fierce hug. "I'm so happy, Anne. We've been worried about you, Ron and I. Ever since you came back. You were just so unhappy all the time. We thought things would get better when Harry got back, but..." She trailed off, leaving unspoken all her disappointments at our failed relationship. She shook her head. "I'm still not sure I believe it. You and Snape...But, as long as you're happy, I'm happy."
"'Mione." I gripped her arm. "Please. Don't tell too many people. I mean, I know you'll tell Ron– that's no problem– and Dumbledore probably already knows, but just...we're not really ready to tell everyone yet." She nodded gravely and patted my hand.
"I promise, Anne. I certainly won't tell a certain someone, either. Not just yet. But look, help me up from here. I think I've got a damp spot on my skirt."
~~~~~~
Once back at the school, I went looking for Severus. He wasn't in either of our rooms, nor was he in the dungeons working. I gave up eventually and sought out Professor Flitwick for an engrossing hour of Charms work. I had just taken him through the steps to enchant a carpet to fly, a Charm that had been lost in Britain since after the first war, when Severus swept into the classroom. His face was stormy, his voice its usual cold flat tone.
"Professor, could you kindly spare me the loan of Professor Llewellyn? The Headmaster has requested her presence." I smiled briefly at Flitwick and followed Severus from the room. His back was ramrod straight, his sooty robes swirling around his ankles. He ignored my confused questions until we arrived at the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Before he uttered the password, he turned to me and placed his hands on my shoulders.
"Anne. He's going to ask you about us. He knows what happened. He isn't angry, but he wants assurance that you were not...coerced in any way." His voice shook slightly. "I told him that you were willing. That we have...feelings for each other. Anne. I need to know, before you go in there. I need to know that it's true." His face was terrible.
I took his icy hands in my own. "Severus. You know me. You know what I did in the wars." I smiled at him. "If you had tried to force me, do you think you'd be standing here, all body parts intact, having this conversation?" He was still grave. I touched his face, cupping my hand against his jaw. "I wasn't coerced. I was more than willing." I stepped away from him.
"Anne." His voice was pleading, his hand gripping mine tightly. I smiled again and kissed his lips.
"There are feelings, Severus. You were not mistaken in that." I stepped into the entryway as Severus spoke the password.
Dumbledore sat at his crowded desk, stroking Fawkes. I sat in the chair he motioned towards, and stretched out my hand to scratch Fawkes' beak. Dumbledore lifted the bright bird back to his perch, offered me a cup of tea, and settled back in his chair. I waited. He seemed almost embarrassed, fiddling with objects on his desk before looking at me over the tops of his spectacles.
"Professor Llewellyn. It has come to my attention that a certain situation has arisen between you and Professor Snape." I inclined my head slightly, acknowledging his statement. He nodded slowly. "Anne, before we have this conversation, I must tell you that I do not disapprove of the situation, provided, of course, that both of you were willing and aware. I am merely concerned, as I would be for any member of my staff or, as you may recall, for any of my students."
I did indeed recall. Harry and I had been summoned for a similar discussion after my first Christmas at Hogwarts. Dumbledore would not, I knew, try to dissuade me from pursuing the relationship; he merely wanted to make sure that we were both happy.
So I told him, all the things that I had told Hermione and more. He listened carefully as all my confusion about Harry also spilled out of my mouth, all my anger and hurt and betrayal. He smiled slightly as I told him about Severus; I didn't go into detail about our evening together, but I explained all the feelings that I had for this odd, reclusive man. He waited until I was done, then leaned forward in his chair.
"Are you certain, Anne, that you are not doing this out of some desire to hurt Harry?" The question took my breath away. I sat, stunned, turning the words over in my mind. Slowly, I shook my head.
"No." I was amazed to realize that it was true. "No, Albus. I don't know if I can ever really forgive Harry, but when I think about Severus, all I know is that I love him. I love him, despite all his strangenesses."
Dumbledore twinkled at me. "I do believe you love him, Anne. I had sincerely hoped that was the case. Severus has been hurt before; I do not wish to see him hurt again. While I have the utmost concern for you, Anne, I also know that you would be more than capable of recovering from a disastrous liaison. I am not so sure about Severus; I do believe that another broken heart might kill him."
He rose from behind the desk, handed me out of the chair and escorted me to the staircase.
"Now, I believe that someone is anxiously awaiting your return. Go on. Just remember– if you ever need to talk, I am always available." I hugged the old wizard impulsively, startling a smile from him. He patted my shoulder.
"I think I know what he sees in you, my dear. You are indeed cheering." With that, he activated the hidden staircase.
Severus was pacing the corridor outside the doorway. He froze as I stepped out of the entryway, his face a mask of tension and worry. He strode over to me, halted a few steps away.
"Anne. What did he say? What did you say?" I smiled at him reassuringly.
"It's all right, Severus. I told him everything. He just wants us to be happy." He swept me into his arms, hugging me fiercely. His face was buried in my hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pushed me to arms' length and scanned my face desperately. I nodded; he hugged me again, less ferociously this time.