Author's note: Thanks to everyone for being so understanding about my forced sabbatical. I'm back now and ready to do some storytelling, so without further ado, I present:
Chapter Nine: Hell Hath No Fury...
Emily looked at Severus as though he'd just handed her the moon, and he pondered whether she realized that he'd given her something much more precious: his trust. He had broken the law by arming a convicted murderer, but that was trivial. Most important in his mind was the fact that he'd broken his word to Dumbledore and placed within his prisoner's grasps the means to escape... though she would have to get by him to do it, not an easy feat by any means.
But, she wouldn't run. She could be trusted with this, he was certain of it. Not because of anything she'd done, but because of who she was. Emily's heart had not changed in the slightest. She was still the girl who risked her life to defy the Dark Lord, stubbornly refusing to betray her brother (initially, at any rate). She would not betray her best friend.
Isabelle was now extending a lean hand which was considered with a wary eye. With an accusing glance at Severus, Emily took the proffered hand in her own and gave the merest of nods.
"Perhaps you'd care to browse the selection in the back?" Isabelle offered.
"No," Severus answered for her, and firmly enough to draw two surprised looks. Were Emily to be caught with a wand, he would, no doubt, be imprisoned. Supplying her with one of the wands in Isabelle's back room would likely earn him a dementor's kiss.
"Something legal, if you don't mind, Isabelle."
"Have it your way," she replied sulkily, turning her attention back to her customer. "What might you be interested in, my lady?"
Emily was taken aback. "Shouldn't we find one that's interested in me, instead?" she asked uneasily.
Isabelle's lovely face suddenly twisted into a disbelieving sneer. "Perhaps you should try Ollivander's, my lady. My customers are usually adult enough to make their own decisions."
A flash of anger in Emily's eyes was enough to inspire Snape to intervene. "Perhaps, Isabelle, you should consider your words a bit more carefully. We don't want Emily to be in poor spirits when she returns to the Dark Lord's side. Do we?"
That got a reaction, he noticed with some satisfaction.
Isabelle paled visibly and fell to her knees in front of an astounded Emily, who eyed Severus furiously over the groveling woman. The potions master gave a small, but devious grin, and she rolled her eyes. He was well-aware of how much she hated to see anyone abase themselves to such a degree. But, he had put the shopkeeper on the defensive, and taken some of the wind from her sails. That, at least, should make Emily happy.
"Forgive me, my lady," Isabelle was saying, clutching her hand in supplication. "I have a wicked tongue, and Lord Snape is such a dear friend that I sometimes forget myself." Severus cringed again. If she wanted to endear herself to Emily, a blatant reminder that she was occasionally his lover may not be the best way to do it.
"Isabelle," he began sternly. "We appreciate your desire to allow my associate to make her own decision, but perhaps it would be wisest to continue in the manner that Emily deems best. And, quickly, if you please. We are in a bit of a hurry."
"Certainly, my lord, certainly," she said, obviously relieved.
In no time at all, she was bustling around in much the manner of Ollivander, asking questions of Emily's heritage, her goals, and her specialty in magic. For, as unwanted as she was by the Death Eaters because of her mixed blood, Isabelle was allowed to live for two reasons: her talents in the bedroom and her gift with wands.
So, I suppose, came the unbidden voice of the adolescent in Snape's mind, that that makes her talented with wands on both counts, doesn't it? He clamped his mind down on the ridiculous thought and pushed it back before it could escape and cause him to forget himself. Honestly, a few minutes in Isabelle's presence and he was completely at the mercy of his base instincts. But, her completely serious offer to allow Emily to come to her bed with them brought with it a series of rushing images that had the heat rising to his pale cheeks.
It was a pleasure just watching the two of them as they set to work. The whole process of allowing the wand to choose the witch was a new experience for Isabelle. After expressing her initial distaste for the concept, she seemed to consider it to be a worthy challenge.
Emily, for her part, was finding that disliking Isabelle was next to impossible. The shopkeeper was a slightly darker creature than Emily, but they had a great deal in common and soon the two were chatting amiably as they searched for the right wand. Through many abortive attempts which included a shelf blown from a display case, two bejeweled candles zapped from the air causing a small fire, and a hole burned through the back wall, they laughed and talked and, Severus noted with some apprehension, seemed to bond, until at long last the perfect instrument was found.
It was a fantastic wand, he had to admit. Thirteen inches, highly-polished yew whose core consisted of all six fangs of a runespoor. A powerful weapon to be sure. As they left the shop, Isabelle drew Emily into a quick embrace as she whispered something which brought a startled expression to his old friend's eyes, and inspired her to bestow the shopkeeper with a tiny kiss on her forehead. Isabelle drew back from the embrace and smiled mysteriously as Severus looked on with curiosity which he refused to show. The way that Emily kept secrets, he'd likely never find out what the exchange had been all about, and for some reason it annoyed him to no end. He could search Isabelle's mind, true, but not in front of Emily, and after this affair was ended it would be moot.
It was a bit awkward, paying for the wand as Emily watched, knowing that she had no means to do so herself, and all too aware of the pain that her dependence caused her. Isabelle's incessant flirting as he did so did nothing to relieve her discomfort, and it plagued him to see her so obviously embarrassed. His frustration was sealed when, as they prepared to leave, Isabelle rose up on her toes and planted a slow, sensual kiss on his damnably compliant mouth.
Ah, sweet Isabelle. She had a kiss that could bring the strongest men to their knees. All it did for him presently, however, was remind him of just how many men she got around to entertaining... and how many of them were Death Eaters who did not need to know of Emily's freedom. Isabelle was not known for her discretion. Knowing Snape as she did, she didn't even bother to look surprised when she found his wand between her eyes.
"Check," Severus intoned, sipping lightly at a steaming cup of tea.
Emily swore savagely under her breath, searching the chessboard furiously. It was futile, though. She was trapped, had spent far too many resources in attack and none at all in defense, but that was ever her way. Soon, she simply shook her head and sat back with a huff.
"It's checkmate, and you know it." She crossed her arms and scowled down at the pieces as they shuffled back to their original places, the game having been conceded. "You are a very bad man to take advantage of a woman whose mind is still so overwhelmed," she chided with a soft smile, running a single finger over the wand on the table. She hadn't taken her eyes off of it for more than a few seconds since it was placed in her hand. Indeed, she seemed wholly enamored with it, and for the first few hours away from the shop, Severus allowed himself to believe that this was the reason she hadn't so much as looked in his direction, but he knew better. That had everything to do with Isabelle.
"What did she say to you?" he asked quietly. Emily looked up inquiringly. "When she whispered in your ear," he clarified. "What did she say?"
She looked back down at the wand, still caressing it lightly. "Had it been intended for your ears, she would have said it aloud." A sudden scowl announced that she felt his mental intrusion and did not appreciate it. "Don't even consider it," she warned lightly, affecting a slight upward turn of the potion master's mouth.
"I wouldn't risk your wrath," he replied. "Particularly now that you are armed." He eyed the wand with just a shadow of trepidation, and she leaned forward in her chair, waving away the table which lay between them.
"As if you wouldn't kick my arse in a duel," she retorted with a laugh. When the uncertain look in his eyes remained unchanged, she sobered. "I swear to you, Severus, I will be worthy of your trust," she stated resolutely. A curious look came over her, then, a confused musing in her eyes. "Unlike Isabelle... apparently."
Snape steepled his fingers before his mouth. Ah, here it comes.
"I can only assume that's why you Obliviated her, because she can't be trusted."
"One could assume that, yes," he replied casually, rising abruptly from his chair to stand before his bookcase.
She was directly on his heels. "That is not an answer."
He sighed irritably and turned to face her. For a moment, he tried to step back for she was far too close, but the bookshelf was directly behind him.
"No," he stated firmly, staring down at her slightly upturned face. "She cannot be trusted."
"But, she's sharing your bed?"
Lips pursed beneath a raised brow. "Actually, since you seem so determined to be accurate, I share her bed... on occasion."
A flash of pain crossed her features, but she hid it quickly. Very good, Emily, Severus thought. I almost missed that. Every moment, you come closer to being the Slytherin you once were.
"You share her bed," she repeated. "You don't even trust her enough to allow her in your chambers... but she's your lover."
"That is the occasional consensus between us, yes." He scowled down at her face which was showing more signs of disapproval by the second. "Are you approaching a point, or are you merely confused by the basic concept?"
She crossed her arms between them. "No, Severus. I'm fairly familiar with the concept, thank you."
"Then what," he asked testily, "is the quandary?"
"I just can't believe that you violated your lover's mind." She considered him a moment longer before speaking again. "Obliviating a stranger is one thing, but doing something that horrible to someone who is so close to you is awfully..."
The sentence tapered off, and she was suddenly eyeing him with a terrible look of dawning comprehension as he silently cursed his foolishness. In the instant he'd let down his guard, she'd seen the truth in his eyes. He was beginning to recall the frustration that accompanied the joy of having such an intimate friend.
Severus sighed deeply, considering the question in her eyes, the answer which he knew he should give her, and the price he would likely pay for telling her the truth instead. She would not easily accept what he had done to her, but perhaps it was time they discuss the matter.
"Why?" she breathed.
"Perhaps I should show you," he whispered.
Drawing his wand slowly, he placed the tip to his forehead, then drew it away revealing a gleaming silver thread. This he brought to her own brow and with a muttered charm, they were drawn together to a day long ago, a day completely clear in his mind, as though nothing could ever make the memory fade.
The Grey estate was remarkable in the winter months, a crystalline palace with the stone turned silver in the winter's radiance and the grounds blanketed in purest white. The house-elf, at the Lord's request, always made certain to have the welcoming candles in the windows enchanted to burn with flames of palest blue. It was an enchanting place to find oneself, and one Severus had always looked forward to visiting. Today, however, the beauty of the place and the person it sheltered was like a shard of glass through his heart.
It was unnecessary to entreat entrance at the door. As soon as his feet gained the stone steps,
a familiar house elf was waiting to escort him.
"Lady Grey will be most pleased that you have come, sir." The fat bobbing creature gave a sincere smile in anticipation of his mistress' delight. As Severus followed his retreating silver and blue tea towel through the mansion, he tried not to dwell on the fact that Emily would be anything but happy to see him.
Halfway to her wing, they encountered a kindly face, the last one Snape wanted to meet at the moment.
Lord Grey, however, oblivious to his guest's deeply troubled mind, greeted him warmly as always. "Ah, Severus, it is a delight to see you."
"And you, sir, as always," he said as kindly as he could manage.
"It has been far too long, Severus, but your timing is impeccable," the wizened wizard confided in the whisper of a conspirator. He hesitated, though, for a tense moment in which Severus feared that the man might begin to ask uncomfortable questions. He needn't have worried. His skill at hiding his feelings allowed him to conceal even the violent torrent of emotions that would have torn a lesser man apart. When the Lord continued, Snape found that the hesitation was innocuous.
"I suppose I owe you the respect of your title, though, Lord Snape." He placed a wrinkled hand on Snape's cold cheek. "How strange it is to be calling you that, my boy. It seems only yesterday that you were falling from your toy broom and scowling at my daughter who found such mirth in your lack of athleticism." Severus gave a flash of a smile, knowing that Lord Grey was merely stating a fact and meant no insult by it.
"If I have been nothing else in my years, I have ever been a source of amusement for Emily. There is a sort of strange comfort in that."
"Of course there is. It is ever a joy to bring a smile to the face of a beautiful girl, and you have managed to do so for more years than I can place. It is an honor to have you in my home again." They proceeded down the hall for several strides before he spoke again. "My Emily is in desperate need of your valued company, Severus. Perhaps you can, once again, bring a smile to my beloved child's face."
With a final nod, the man strode down the adjoining hallway toward his own wing, the picture of aged strength and grace. It took a very trained eye to notice that both were failing, and had been for twenty years. Emily and Eric had come to him much later in life than the children of most wizarding families. Indeed, he had been in his fifties when he sired them. The Lord and Lady, for nine months had been incredibly happy, but the complications of giving birth to twins had been too much for Lady Grey, a renowned auror of advancing age. She had breathed her last cradling the newborns in her arms, a peaceful smile upon her lovely face.
Severus shook the melancholy story from his mind as he knocked on Emily's door. It had been years since he'd done so, but considering how estranged they had become, it seemed appropriate. At least he hadn't felt compelled to have the house elf announce him like a perfect stranger.
"Come," called the distracted call from within; so sharp, so unlike the warm, funny voice of his beloved friend. Upon entering he found her surrounded with parchments and books, stacked in skewed piles on and around the desk. A small place in front of her chair had been cleared of the mess to accommodate the parchment on which she presently scribbled furiously, brow furrowed in concentration: a mind on hire by the Ministry of Magic who'd come upon a very old runic tablet and asked for her assistance.
"How goes the translation, my lady?"
A snap announced the breaking of the quill in her grip, and a dramatic increase in tension. She looked at him with eyes that danced with a myriad of emotions: fear, longing, guilt, even triumph. She had expected him to come, that was obvious. Even after three years of almost no contact, somehow she knew.
"Severus," she finally managed. "Dare I hope that this isn't a business call?"
"It is not," he answered. "This is an entirely personal matter, but one of great importance."
She wasted no time in ordering tea for them both and escorting him to the balcony which had been warmed for her own comfort. She adored watching the falling snow, but was much less than fond of the chill that came with it.
"I've missed you so much, Severus," she said fondly. "I can't believe you're here."
"Truthfully, neither can I, but I must speak with you." He glanced around uneasily. "Is it safe?" he asked pointedly.
"Completely private," she assured him. "No need for concern."
He nodded briefly, tapping a long digit on his teacup, trying to collect his thoughts. This had to work. Somehow, she had to be made to see reason.
"Emily, I have come about the ceremony tomorrow."
There it was again, that unmistakable flash of triumph in her eyes. It didn't bode well, but he continued unabated.
"I must ask you to reconsider," he said as tactfully as he could manage. "You have no idea what you are doing."
Vibrant green faded and fell into shadow as her lids narrowed over her eyes.
"I don't believe this," she hissed. "Three years of stone silence, and you come to my home at long last to lecture me about my ignorance?" Her voice rose with every word until he was sure they'd be overheard, privacy spell or no.
"Emily, whatever the Death Eaters have told you about the Dark Lord..."
"Whatever they've told me is all I have, Severus Snape," she spat. "You sure as hell haven't been a fountain of information."
"I have come to remedy that," he stated, a tiny hint of warning in his voice. Childhood friends or no, she knew better than to raise her voice to him. "Have you been told what will be expected of you before you take the Mark tomorrow?"
The self-assured arrogance in her eyes wavered just a bit.
"No."
"You will be expected to take a life of the Dark Lord's choosing to prove your loyalty, your willingness to kill for him. Can you do this?"
"Did you?" she asked tonelessly. He nodded once. "Then, so can I."
"You don't know what you're saying. You are blinded by the taste of power he has given you."
"I didn't need his 'taste of power,' Severus Snape. I have my own, just as I have my own reasons for taking the Mark."
"Emily, I have served him for over a year and I can tell you from personal experience that he is not what he seems." He was up, now, looking over the gardens, clutching the sharp-edged railing in a grip that threatened to tear his hands. "He is a monster who knows no wisdom, and wants nothing less than the domination of the entire world. He kills without conscience, sometimes without even a reason; and, it's not always the muggle-born or muggles themselves. Any witch or wizard of pure blood who stands in his path will be destroyed as well. That marks your family as crucial targets. What if it's your brother he asks you to dispose of, or your father? For as aurors, they will have to be eliminated eventually, and you have the perfect access - their trust. Did you not wonder why he so readily accepted your offer?"
When he turned, he faced a livid creature, her lovely face twisted with hate.
"How dare you?" she spat. "I thought that you, of all people, would at least acknowledge my value to them. My worth is not defined by my connection to my family or my value as breeding stock!"
"What does that..."
"Do you really think I care if they kill my family?" she cut in viciously. "What is their value to me, Severus? I am nothing but an asset to be auctioned off to the highest bidder in the eyes of Daddy dearest, and to my brother, I'm an embarrassment. His own twin sister, the black sheep of the Grey family. What a shame he had to share a womb with a Slytherin! The sooner they marry me off and I begin churning out pure bloods, the better for them." She stepped closer, breathing heavily, a thin veil of ominous magic building between them. Snape's hand twitched, anxious to reach for his wand. "I will not," she continued in a low hiss, "have my life dictated to me by anyone, any longer. The Dark Lord will see to that."
"Your father only wants what is best for you, Emily," he said quietly. "As do we all. You're right, though," he added, cold once more in the face of her heat. "You are valuable. You can be used, and The Dark Lord will use you until there is nothing left, then he will dispose of you. Or, perhaps," he whispered, closing the distance until he was only a breath away, and taking her face between her hands like a lover, "he will toss you to his Death Eaters... as an amusement. And, when they tire of toying with you..."
He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. The widening of her eyes gave him to know that she understood his meaning perfectly. He was close, very close to changing her mind. Just a little nudge could keep her from making the same mistake he had. Perhaps it was this that wrested his tongue from him and allowed it to express things that he would not have dared to utter otherwise.
His forehead fell to hers as he spoke. "Emily, I beg you. Do not do this. Please, love. They will destroy you, and I cannot bear it." With that, his mouth descended upon hers in a kiss that was at once tender and desperate, and she responded willingly, achingly, her muscular arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him even closer. Her lips parted for him at the slightest coaxing and when their tongues met, he released a long, low moan into her mouth.
How long, exactly, they remained this way was difficult to tell, but it was long enough that, when she pulled away, he was flushed and breathless. Perhaps that was how she caught him off guard, a damnably difficult thing to do.
It was a slow swing, but there was a world of fury behind it and before he could even begin to comprehend what she'd done, he was clutching at an explosion of pain, his body still turned away from the force of the blow. The telling metallic taste bespoke her venom. Nevertheless she opened her mouth to add to it.
"Three years ago, Severus, before you ripped my heart to pieces, that would have worked," she spat. "But, no more. I have no way of knowing where our paths will lead us in our service to the Dark Lord, but as we were once friends, I will give you one warning. If you hinder my advancement in any way, I will kill you."
The words fell like a death knoll on his ears. She couldn't possibly be serious, but the rage in her eyes told a different tale. Emily was well and truly gone... and this stranger in her guise knew far too much about his lack of allegiance. Fortunately, she had never been able to match his dueling speed, and his wand was out before she had even reached for her own. It hadn't cleared the sheath before his words rang out, clear and final against the silence of the falling snow.
"Obliviate!"