Chapter Thirty: Dinner at Caravelle
Severus ran a hand through his hair one last time, silently ordering it to, just once, behave like the hair of a pure-blood wizard and lie still. For the moment, it seemed to comply, and he lowered his hands to give his waistcoat a sharp tug, then turned on his heel to leave.
Emily was directly behind him, bringing him up short.
"You are a wickedly handsome man," she purred, slipping her arms around his neck.
He didn't answer right away, was far too occupied with studying her as she tilted her head back to give him a brilliant smile. Sweet Merlin, but she was beautiful in tightly fitted bottle-green robes, her hair twisted into an elegant knot and adorned with ribbons of the finest silk. Like an elemental from the deepest forests, but far more erratic and feral and frighteningly difficult to control.
He gave her the merest hint of a smile. "And you," he growled, wrapping his arms around her waist, "temp me to cancel our plans and remain at home."
"Oh, no you don't, Professor," she said laughingly, pushing back out of his embrace. "You promised a good Italian dinner, and you are going to deliver."
He gave her a mocking hint of a bow. "As you wish, my lady. I am ever your servant."
She responded with a lascivious grin. "Now, that is a concept that might keep me home."
"Oh, heavens, no," he answered in mock defense. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you of your dinner."
She snuggled in closer with her arms once again around his neck. "Please, deprive me," she begged.
"Never," he argued selflessly, stepping away and offering his arm. "It simply wouldn't be proper. Besides, we have reservations."
"I'm beginning to have reservations, myself," she warned playfully, taking his arm.
Without another word, he escorted her out of the room and up through the dungeons.
Ten minutes later, he was removing her cloak in thelobby of the loveliest restaurant he'd ever seen. The reservations had been made sight unseen, on the advice of Dumbledore who had dined in almost every restaurant on the planet at least once. Caravelle, in Rome, he had recommended so highly that Severus found it impossible to doubt him. Albus had even been kind enough to allow the use of his private dining booth.
"Benvenuto a Caravelle," greeted a bustling gentleman in pristine black and white robes. "Come posso aiutarlo?"
Severus inclined his head gracefully. "Prenotazioni per Snape, per favore," he answered smoothly, not bothering to glance at Emily who was gaping openly. "Un partito di due."
"Questo senso, per favore, signore."
"That had to have been the sexiest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth," Emily blurted out the instant the host had left the table with their orders. "And, I don't even know what it was."
"I suppose I could arrange to familiarize you with my limited knowledge of the Italian language when we return home," he said casually, sipping delicately at his wine.
With an indelicate laugh, she was off on a verbal binge. He allowed her to thoroughly exhaust her seemingly endless repertoire of casual conversation topics and actually mention her dinner with the Weasleys before finally bringing up the subject that had been nagging at him for two nights.
"May I ask, Miss Grey, what drove you to relate that particular story to a roomful of perfect strangers?"
It took her a moment to realize what he referred to, but when she did, her blank gaze ignited with understanding. "Oh, that!"
"Yes," he responded quietly. "That."
"I was making them understand that, contrary to your students' belief, you do not have any regard for the Malfoys."
"Not that I approve of your telling them anything about me," he began, a subtle hint of rebuke in his voice, "but you could have simply told them as much."
She snorted into her glass causing the wine to bubble merrily. "Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that? That would've gone over beautifully," she chuckled. "Lackluster, uninspiring, forthright fact - nothing changes a resolute mind quite like that."
"I'll thank you to refrain from the sarcasm, and from ever speaking of my past to anyone... especially my students," he said firmly, reaching to refill her glass.
"But they completely misunderstand you!" she argued heatedly.
He didn't bother to speak, allowing his eyes to answer for him. He didn't really give a damn what his students thought of him. His reputation at Hogwarts was a mixture of carefully calculated pretense and his steadily-increasing hatred of the job itself. Whether he was loved or despised was wholly inconsequential.
Emily took a long pull of the newly-refilled wine. "Besides, I was worried half to death about you. I wasn't really... thinking... clearly." She hesitated. Furrowed her brow. Sat back with a light shake of her head.
Severus' chair moved beside hers with the merest of thoughts, and his hand covered hers lightly. "Emily?"
She shook her head. "I can't remember," she whispered absently.
"Remember what?"
"How I came to be so giddy at dinner," she answered, suddenly looking quite worried. "I wasn't drunk, but that's rather how it felt. I remember trying to understand what had happened. I had been worried about you, very worried, nearly frantic, and then... nothing."
"What do you mean, nothing?" he asked tensely, trying to brush back the anger that was threatening to overtake him.
"I was going mad wondering where you were," she said dreamily, "then..." She shrugged helplessly. "Then, Remus and I were talking and laughing on our way to dinner."
"Lupin," Snape said tightly. Emily looked up in confusion, and he rolled his eyes. How could she possibly be confused? "Emily, you are one of the most aggressive people I know. Hence, we may conclude that if you were maniacally concerned, you would have decided to search for me. Remus would not have allowed you to leave the safety of the Order's headquarters. Ergo..."
Her head fell into her hands with a groan. "Ergo, we may conclude that he altered my perception of the situation to keep me with him," she chanted dully.
Severus nodded. "And likely layered that with a powerful cheering or inebriating charm."
"That bastard! How could he?!" she fumed. "When I see him again, I swear I'll..."
"You'll do nothing," Severus stated flatly. "As much as it pains me to defend him, I would have done the same thing in his place."
"He toyed with my mind!" she said heatedly.
"And if he hadn't, what would have occurred?" Snape said reasonably. "You would have endeavored to leave, despite his protests. Had he attempted to stop you, you would have then drawn your wand." She pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded, acknowledging the inevitability of the scenario. "It would've come to a duel, Emily, and even if he hadn't harmed you - which, I hasten to assure you he is more than capable of doing, and likely under strict orders to do so at the slightest provocation - Dumbledore would've had you locked away again in the blink of an eye." Her head was lowered now, as if in shame. "If you mention it at all, you should thank him for protecting you from yourself," he concluded.
She sighed deeply, now raising her gaze to his. "You're right. He did the right thing," she acknowledged quietly. "But, I hate knowing it ever came to that."
"I'm certain that he does, as well," Severus answered with a small smile. "Now, finish your meal."
"Yes, mummy."
In a few moments of comfortable silence, she finished her second glass of wine and he, again, reached to refill it. She watched him quite carefully as he did so, finally asking, "Are you trying to inebriate me, Professor?"
"Merely seeing to your needs," he responded effortlessly.
She shook her head with a smile, taking up his hand as soon as it released the bottle. "Am I the only person in the world who knows what a charming - " she kissed a fingertip - "graceful - " and another - "beautiful man you are?" she asked, completing the question with a lingering kiss on his palm.
He couldn't stop a crooked smile from spreading across his face. "Apparently so," he answered wryly. "And if you ever enlighten a soul, I shall be forced to punish you."
"Ooh, Professor," she purred. "You temp me to tell the world."
"It would be a wretched day for you, Miss Grey," he promised.
"Would it really be so awful to let the world in on the truth of who you are?"
"The world sees the truth of who I am," he answered soberly. "I despise the vast majority of individuals I encounter, Emily. You know that," he insisted sedately. "The self-serving, mindless, uncultured masses who would merely hope to gain something by my acquaintance. It is barely within my power to even tolerate them."
"You seem to tolerate me fairly well," she said with a charming smile.
"You, my lady, are an exception to nearly every rule."
She laughed merrily, the wine finally beginning to take effect and he allowed himself a secret, satisfied smile at her mild intoxication. If anyone deserved to become drunk, it was her. She'd put up with an endless deluge of melancholy on his part for two days, not to mention his fit of temper that had resolved itself into violent lust when he'd first brought her home. She'd sworn that it had pleased her, but he knew better, had seen the terror in her eyes when she'd realized his intention, heard the pain in her cry when he'd forced himself inside her. And, it had actually driven him over the edge, her agony had done nothing but encourage his ferocity. He'd wanted to hurt someone that night, preferably the bastard who'd poisoned Isabelle, but Emily, in her unrelenting desire to help him, had become the focal point of his rage, and he had yet to forgive himself. He likely never would. But what was the harm, really? It was just another iniquity in a long line of black deeds.
He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ever-present darkness. Any woman with a modicum of sense would've been gone that very night, but Emily had never had much of that and he had yet to decide whether that was a relief to him or a burden.
The waiter reentered, then, followed obediently by a floating tray of frighteningly decadent confections.
"Perhaps the lady and gentleman would care for something sweet?" he said in heavily-accented English.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I already have something sweet."
Severus fought to refrain from rolling his eyes. "Is there anything on that cart with lemon in it?" he asked.
"Indeed, sir," he answered with a bright smile. "Perhaps this lemon cheesecake would please you."
"I believe she would quite enjoy it."
"Oh, very much!" Emily gushed, never one to turn down dessert.
The enormous slice of cake was served as Severus refilled her glass.
"Perhaps the lady would prefer coffee or tea?" the portly gentleman suggested lightly.
"Oh, no," she said before Severus could answer. "You see, my lover is attempting to inebriate me so that he can take advantage of me later, and I fully intend to let him."
Severus scrubbed his rapidly-warming face with his hands. "Emily Brigid Grey!" he moaned. "I cannot take you anywhere. Please excuse her, signore," he added to the waiter. "She has had a bit much."
"Oh, no apology necessary," he answered with a smile that encompassed his whole face. "There is no shame in love, and with such a charming lady who can blame a gentleman, eh?" He was still chuckling when he and the cart bustled away.
"That was inelegant, Emily, even for you," he snapped.
His ire fazed her little as she slowly slid the fork from her mouth with a moan that aroused him against his will, savoring the taste of the food. "Sweet Merlin," she whispered with a sigh. "Moments like these, I realize just how much I missed in prison. How good life can be."
He started at her sudden mention of Azkaban. He'd attempted to discuss her stay in that horrid place many times, but she had seemed violently opposed to discussing it at all. Never one to pass up an opportunity, he leaned in as she continued to slowly relish her dessert. "What, specifically, is good about it?"
She giggled, her hand pressed against her lips as she attempted to swallow the rather large mouthful of cake she'd taken, so charming a sight that he couldn't suppress a slight chuckle himself.
"Well, my companion is certainly more delightful than your typical Dementor or Ministry analyst." She gave a tiny shudder. "And, it's warm, and there's food - Gods, I love food, and I don't spend every moment of every day wishing for death," she looked away, embarrassed, "or attempting to facilitate it."
"It is a great relief to me that you never succeeded."
She nodded slowly, suddenly much more sober than before. "And to me. But, in all honesty, for the chance to be with you, I'd live it again."
"You don't mean that," he responded offhandedly.
She placed a hand on his arm and gave him a look more stern than he'd ever seen in her eyes. "I assure you, I do. In fact..." She stopped, drew a deep breath and shook her head. "Gods, this wine. It's got my head all muddled." He waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt for fear that she would never return to this curious subject. "I didn't think much in Azkaban. I wasn't even in my right mind most of the time. I wandered in and out of my worst nightmares for years, but memories of you - the good ones - were always there to keep me from slipping too far over the edge. I never imagined, even during those years in the Dark Lord's service, that I would have a second chance, that I would ever be with you again. And, I don't deserve to be."
He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off before he could speak. "I do not deserve it," she repeated vehemently. "I'm a murderer, several times over. And, I didn't do it out of necessity, as you did. I did it because I wanted to. Because I enjoyed the rush and heat of killing. Because for me there was nothing left, nothing but the anger I felt for everyone I'd once loved: my father, my brother, you - most especially you. You took away the one thing that made me a whole person."
She was crying now, and he drew a linen handkerchief from an inner pocket for her.
"Thanks," she muttered into the cloth. After a few moments, she brought it away and tucked it into her own robes, thoroughly preoccupied with mastering herself once more. After a long breath, she returned her slightly reddened eyes to his. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to launch into a weepy oratory on my past."
"It's quite..."
She waved a hand at him, more of a pleading gesture than a dismissive one. "Please. Not yet. Just... listen. There's something I need to ask you and, if I don't do it now..." She reached once more into her robes, drew out a tiny velvet box, and slid it open.
His eyes flew wide at the ring within, immediately recognizable. It had been her father's, a family heirloom worn by every patriarch of the Grey family for generations incalculable; remarkably ornate silver embedded with a single emerald where once there had been a ruby and cradled by two immaculately-cut moonstones.
"Emily," he breathed, utterly taken aback.
"Don't," she said sternly, taking his hand in her own. "Don't say no, not right away. Please, if you ever loved me, just... let me get through this." Unable to even formulate an argument, he merely watched in stunned silence as she slid the ring over his finger with trembling hands, then brought it to her lips.
"I love you, Severus," she whispered unsteadily. "I have loved you for as long as I can recall, and that will never change. I know that things are complicated, right now... to say the least. But, the war doesn't change the fact that we belong together. All it does is make me realize what I have in you, and what I have to lose. I'm not asking you for an answer, not yet. I'm only asking you to seriously consider what I know you feel." She threaded her hand through his.
"Emily," he began again, cursing himself for a sudden, inexplicable loss of articulation.
"Severus Snape," she said, shaking her head at the interruption. "Will..." She stopped. Took a deep breath and tried again. "Will you marry me?"
Captain Oblivious!:
So glad that you have your computer back, and I hope I've sufficiently cleared up the mystery of what Remus did to Emily and why. Not too sinister. Nothing to worry about. I'm a big fan of the twin as well. Knew you'd concur if no one else did. I agree with the 'poor Isabelle' sentiment. I hate having to kill off someone that I like so much. It was almost as painful as killing Nina in the second Alex story. And, yes, one must never forget how dangerous the war can be. Now, now. I know that Lucius is unethical and cold-blooded, but those are good qualities... goooooodddd qualitiiieeessss.... You love Lucius. Lucius is your hero... just like me.... Good Captain O. Good....
Sesshomaru's Angel:
You're dad is way off the mark. The bad guys ARE the good guys! I mean life would be so dull without them! Severus is back to stay. No more long trips, I promise. This one only lasted a day, but it felt like a lifetime!
Queen of the Faeries:
As glad as I am that you enjoyed the last chapter for its lack of fluff, I cringe now because this one is almost nothing but fluff! Hope you don't puke from the sticky sweetness. I tried to clean the sap off as much as possible, but the events of this chapter were absolutely crucial to me for the rest of the plot and the character development. You understand, don't you? Sure you do. Interesting that you should mention the end as I just finished the rough draft of the ending chapter. We're not very far at all... not extremely close, but not far enough away for my happiness. I hate endings, especially writing them. Beginnings are so much easier for me, so crisp and clean and full of possibility. Sigh. Look what you've done. Now, I'm depressed and will have to go play Siberia until dawn.
iSpeekyGreeky:
Hi! Thanks for your reviews of chapters 20, 21, and 23. I wasn't sure if you'd gotten this far yet, but in case you had, I wanted to make sure that you know I appreciate your reviews and am very glad that you're enjoying the story. By the way, your description of Lucius was right in line with my reasons for loving him so much. That's kinda groovy.
1 lonelyangel:
I'm hoping that I can cover how they escaped, now that you mention it. I was going to write it out, but it just didn't feel right, having a lengthy conversation after Severus showed up. I suppose it really isn't fair, my knowing how they lived through it and not sharing the rest of the story with my beloved readers. Tell you what, if I can't manage to fit it in, I'll tell you in an author's note. 'Kay? So, you think you know who killed Isabelle, eh? Well? Let's have it. Inquiring minds, ya know.
Sev lover:
Ah, you and I and Lady Jenilyn appear to have some opinions in common. I like that. It makes me feel all warm and cozy. I have a few HP pals here at home, but they're all big Gryffindor fans. Sigh. It chills me to the bone. I didn't raise them to be this way, I swear. It's nice to know that people do exist who share my opinions on these important matters. And the fact that you're one of my beloved readers makes it all the sweeter. My local pals know that I write HP fanfic, but (with the exception of Sylvan) I refuse to tell them which stories are mine. So, really, you guys are closer than the guys with whom I actually do share my muffins and tea. How groovy is that?
Intel Ewok:
Hi! Good to hear from you! I caught your review just as I signed on to post this chapter. I'm glad that you liked Severus in that chapter. I felt as though he was much more in character there than he is here... but I'm going somewhere with this, I promise.