Chapter Thirty-Three: A Long Walk

They made their way back to Hogwarts in grim silence, Emily glancing occasionally to the side at her taciturn escort who hadn't spoken a word since Dumbledore had made his terrifying proclamation about her future. Worse yet, his hooded, black eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts.

When they arrived at the dungeons, he led her to her own room, stopped at the door, and finally turned to meet her questioning gaze. For a moment he hesitated, then seemed to settle his resolve.

"I sent word ahead to Liri to prepare your room," he said blankly.

She opened her mouth to question him, but the words stuck in her throat as the door swung open on a sight whose implications turned her stomach.

The room was almost completely bare save for her bed. The cheery hearth had been walled up entirely, and the single window high above still shimmered slightly from a heavy ward. Her once warm and cozy boudoir had been turned into, for want of a better word, a cell, driving home as nothing else could the fact that she was a prisoner once more.

"Sev," she whispered turning back to her enigmatic friend.

He shook his head ruefully. "In," he whispered, turning his gaze away as if he couldn't bear to look in her eyes.

Gods, it was awful! Tragic to see the cold mask that he usually wore for others thrown over his features now to hide his heart from her. She didn't argue, more concerned with his pain than her own, just made her way into the cold chamber and turned, expecting the door to be closed in her face.

To her surprise, he followed her in, sealing the door behind them, pacing the length of the walls, testing the wards, searching for anything that may have remained hidden from Liri.

"I'm not going anywhere, Severus," she assured him calmly. "I wouldn't do that to you."

At the sound of her words, he stopped his search to turn and face her. "Is that so?" he asked quietly, his voice so full of unexpressed pain that it startled her. "And the pocketful of floo powder you just happened to bring to Headquarters?"

"Proved damned useful," she finished, a slight edge cutting into her tone against her will.

"Two wands, one of them illegal, a bag of floo powder, an Unforgivable curse - all discovered directly after I assured the Order that you were relatively trustworthy at best; at the least, fully under my control." He sighed deeply, staring at the wall over her left shoulder, a habit he normally reserved for those whose presence he could barely tolerate. "Do you have any idea how many years of established trust your 'heroics' have cost me?"

"My 'heroics,' and I resent the use of that term, saved a child's life tonight."

"I am well aware of the benefit of your actions," he snapped. The tone seemed to startle him, and he returned to his cold manner immediately. "But you, as usual, seem wholly unable to grasp the more subtle implications."

"You would've preferred that I do nothing?" she asked, her tone unexpectedly even. "Because I'm beginning to agree with you. After all, what have my 'heroics' gained us in the past? Every time I've acted with my heart as opposed to my brain it's resulted in nothing but disaster. So, just tell me that I did the wrong thing, Sev - because that's all the reassurance I need to begin listening to reason once more. And the path of reason leads right back to our master."

"Don't," he roared, slamming his fist down on her bare dressing table, "even initiate that discussion!" He released a shivery breath, seeming to fear his mounting rage. "I will take you back to Azkaban myself," he finished in a hiss.

She deliberately took a moment to step back, to allow him to regain his composure. However logical he was the majority of the time, Severus was a deadly wizard when he was provoked to anger. But with his emotions running this high, he was also damnably easy to manipulate.

After what seemed like an eternity, his breath returned to normal, his black eyes closed and his fists unclenched. The fingers of his left hand were still shaking a bit as the rage cooled, but that could be overlooked. Cautiously, she approached him, thrilled when he stood his ground, and slipped her hand ever-so-softly in his, closing her fingers to stop the shaking.

"It doesn't have to be this way, my love," she whispered carefully, close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "The Order is using you and you know as well as I do that none of them will mourn when the charade ends, when you are discovered and destroyed. And you know you will be" He opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off with tiny, feathered kisses. "Don't, my love. Don't deny what you know to be true. The Dark Lord is no fool, and neither are his chosen. I know how difficult it's been for you, concealing everything you feel from both sides." Idly, she brushed a stray hair from his lovely eyes. "However much they've taken from you, you still have the freedom to be honest with yourself. And I ... well, I am practically a part of you. We have ever been truthful with one another. There was a time when you trusted me, when I was your Emily and no one else mattered." She smiled tenderly. "Do you remember?"

Was that a gathering of moisture in the corners of his eyes as he inclined his head in answer, still refusing to look her way?

No. It was gone. Only her imagination.

Still, he was wavering. She could feel it.

Just a little further.

"They would destroy that, Severus. They would destroy us." A second hand caressed his arm, trying to ease the tension beneath his sleeve. "Don't let them win. I love you, and I know you love me. You don't need to say it." She touched her lips to his cheek, trailed tiny kisses along his strong jaw, then back to his unresponsive mouth. "Please, love, come home with me while we can still have a life together. Lucius has turned the Dark Lord's favor in our direction. How much more could we gain by ..."

The fingers around her hand released instantly, and she bit down hard on her lip to keep from cursing him aloud.

Damn.

Too far, too fast.

Always too eager to have her own way. And now, he was released from her spell.

Quickly, he stepped out of her embrace, chin lifting in stubborn refusal. Finally, his eyes fell to hers and the look of betrayal there made her immediately ashamed of her actions. For a long while, he studied her in silence, then his right hand closed about his left, sliding her ring from his finger. Lifting her own hand, he transferred the token to her, and closed her fingers tightly around it.

"I am ... honored by your interest," he said stiffly. "But, I cannot accept this."

She wanted to protest, wanted to plead with him to return as he turned his back to leave, but the negligible weight of the ring in her hand seemed to render her speechless.

Finally, before he could close the door, her tongue was loosed.

"Do you think anyone else will ever love you?" she called to his retreating form. "To the rest of the world, you're just a snake .... just like me. A revolting creature, but you have your uses, and they will most certainly exploit them. I'm the only one who understands, Severus. I'm the only one who ever could."

A barely perceptible smile crept across his features as he turned back to her. "I accepted all of this long ago. You are the one who needs to come to terms with it." For a moment, he glanced down at the ring in her open palm. "I do love you, Emily. And, if you truly love me in return, you will not leave this room tonight."

With a slight obeisance, he left, closing the door behind him, carefully and conspicuously walking away without casting a ward.

Severus studied a smallish tome of ancient Egyptian curses for well over an hour before shrouding himself in a cloaking spell and slipping out of his rooms to the study. Emily's door was still closed and she was still within. He could hear the rustle of cloth as she paced like a cat, her bare feet making no sound on the stone floor.

He had purposely left the room unwarded, knowing that the woman was foolish enough to believe that he still trusted her. She would leave, there was no doubt of that. She couldn't sleep, not with the kind of strain she was under at present. There were really only two unanswered questions. Would she leave in a spirit of treachery, forcing him to stop her? Or would she simply widen her terrain for pacing, innocently extending her restless path along the halls?

He was hoping with all his heart for the latter, but, knowing her as he did, his gold was on the former. If she stayed, she would likely be sent back to Azkaban, and he seriously doubted that her love for him, her concern for his reputation, was strong enough to hold her survival instinct in check.

Ah.

There you are.

The sound of a stealthy hand on the door, waiting, listening, attempting to ascertain through straining senses whether the room without was empty.

He shrank into the shadows, knowing that even with a concealing spell his detection was possible. Like him, Emily always suspected treachery, was overly wary to the point of paranoia. But within the Dark Lord's circle, paranoia would keep you alive when all else failed. It was well-founded apprehension. Emily was more a fool than he, that was certain, but no great fool - not like most.

She tarried at the door a long while before finally giving it a deliberate tug. Silently, it swung inward, revealing an obviously exhausted, red-eyed witch who stared around the room in wary stillness, then crept to his own chamber door and raised her hand to knock.

A thrill of alarm shot through him. That she would leave the room to speak to him was a contingency for which he hadn't planned. Sweet Merlin, what to do? If he didn't answer her summons, she would most certainly think the worst.

Heart's blood pounding in his ears as he berated his shortsightedness and her damnable lack of predictability, he watched her hand fall short of its mark and freeze before it made a sound. For a moment she stood as if petrified, trying to make up her mind, then slowly brought her palm to rest silently on the heavy oak and leaned her head against it, her face so full of misery that he had to look away.

Had he known that bringing her out of Azkaban would cause her this kind of pain, he would've left her in her cell. At least there she had been oblivious to her own suffering. And how could he explain that his intentions had, for once, been pure? That he had wanted only the best for her? That he still did? That he still planned to fight for her freedom after Albus had time to come to terms with the knowledge that he was acting out of prejudice against all who bore the Dark Mark?

Such thoughts were difficult to express, overpowered as they were by his sense of betrayal which ran so deep that it cut into his very core. How? How could she have told, of all people, Remus Lupin the secret that she'd been hiding from the world, from him, for sixteen years? A secret she'd gone without protest to Azkaban to protect? What was it about Remus that she found so much more trustworthy than her own lover - the man to whom she'd proposed marriage only a few hours ago?

Oh, Gods, it seemed a lifetime ago, that perfectly shocking moment when she'd presented her Father's ring to him and asked him to spend his life with her. It was unbelievable to him that, for a few glorious seconds, he'd actually considered accepting and damn the consequences. But decisions like that could never be made in haste. It was a matter which required the utmost consideration. And now ... now the thought of accepting was so inappropriate that he couldn't even contemplate it. When she came to herself again, he would speak with her about it, would explain why they would need to delay the discussion of marriage at least until the war ended, maybe longer.

When at last she straightened, the tears which had reddened her eyes were streaming once more as she carefully considered the entrance to his chambers with a forlorn expression, then turned on her heel to leave.

He had to wait until she'd passed well beyond the door before slipping out himself, following far enough away to remain undetected, but close enough to stun her if she attempted to leave the grounds.

For a long while she wandered aimlessly, peering at paintings through the dim torchlight, smoothing her hands over statues as if attempting to memorize their contours. Finally, she arrived in the library, at the place that most of the staff still referred to as Sev and Em's spot - a deeply secluded area behind the restricted section where they used to sit for hours at a time, talking and reading and making plans for the future.

And, who was to know that our lives would come to this? Severus thought sadly. We were so certain of ourselves, that nothing could come between us. Nothing would ever change.

Who could have anticipated the Dark Lord and the ruin he would bring on us all?

For a long time, Emily sat in her old chair , staring across the table at the place Severus once habitually occupied. He didn't wonder what she saw, knew instinctively that she was walking through her memories, seeing him as he was years ago: a bitter, skinny, awkward teenager. No friends, no family to speak of - just Emily, ever his salvation and his light.

And, how he had wanted to save her in turn. But when he had reached to take her hand, to pull her out of harm's way, she had shied from it, turned back to the comfort of darkness, the surety of power. And what disturbed him the most was that he understood. Even tonight, when she'd suggested that they return to the Dark Lord together, that they betray the Order, he'd felt the irresistible tug of bittersweet temptation.

It would have been so easy. The entire future lay in his hands and he knew it. Were he to turn his back on Dumbledore, the Order would fall and he would be honored above all of the Dark Lord's chosen. Yet, this gained him nothing within The Order's ranks, no respect from the members, no appreciation for the risks he took. They saw only the Mark of the Dark Lord and where that Mark brought him honor and glory in one circle, it afforded him only hatred and mistrust in the other.

Ultimately, Emily was right. To the rest of the world he was a snake, and only Emily would ever understand what that meant.

Gods, how he loved her, so much so that it ached! And, at this rate, he would never get the chance to explain.

At least she appeared to be staying within the castle walls. He had expected her to make a dash for the gates, but so far she seemed content to wander as if in a dream.

And now she was moving once more, rising from her chair and slipping out of the library as if she'd just remembered she had a class.

He followed tenaciously as she strolled up the castle stairways, stopping occasionally to lean over the railings and look down. Funny that heights never seem to trouble her unless she's outdoors, he mused.

Finally, her steps led her to the Divination tower. Curiously enough, when she approached, the ladder unfurled from above as if inviting her in. With a furrowed brow, she grabbed the ladder and ascended gracefully. Severus opted to levitate through the trapdoor as it opened.

Through the crowded room she weaved, between the small round tables and poufs, curiously fingering the multicolored, glittering scarves that draped over every available surface.

That's true, Severus thought wryly. She's never experienced the great mystifying enigma that is Sybil Trelawney. He almost snorted. Fortunate woman.

Once she was clear of the ridiculous arrangement that constituted a learning environment she stopped, studying the enormous office beyond, which more resembled a mystic's parlor than a professional educator's workplace. The door was wide open, which would've surprised Severus but for the wild rush with which everyone had fled the morning after the attack. Securing office doors had not been the highest priority.

His lips turned up in an ironic smile. He, however, had gotten the lecture of his life from Albus for staying behind to lock and ward every door in his chambers and offices before leaving the dungeons.

For a moment, Emily stared, seeming to debate the worth of moving forward. When she did, he was close, closer on her heels than he cared to be, but the limited space allowed for little option.

Delicately, she padded through the door into the center of the room where she was promptly swallowed whole by a blinding white light.

Had it been anyone else, Severus would've stopped to think. But at that moment, he knew only blind horror. Emily had found the last rune, had walked directly through its invisible borders, and she was wholly unarmed and helpless within.

An instant later, his heart clenching painfully in his chest, he plunged in after her.

Oya:

I'm very comfortable with your not minding that the little twit is dead. And, yeah. I really wanted to show a different side to Dumbledore. He's too damn twinkly-eyed and sweet to be the leader of what is basically a military resistance. I think that when the kids are not around a different side of his personality may be seen.

Dianatyne:

Thanks. I was waiting for that. I'm not at all surprised that you were surprisingly not surprised. I don't keep my hatred of ickle Ronnikins very bottled up. As I mentioned in this chapter, I think that Dumbledore is acting out of his usual prejudice against not only Slytherins, but also Death Eaters. It is possible that, given time to consider, he will realize this and reevaluate his feelings. After all, I don't think he's unreasonable, just human. Hope the update didn't take too long, sweetie.

Elessar Evenstar:

I understand. The "light side" can be damnably pig-headed sometimes. It's so easy to despise the noble little do-gooders. I agree with you wholeheartedly about Heart of Darkness. I hated that book. Hated it! Actually, books of that nature are on the list of reasons that I decided to teach middle grades instead of high school. I lack a certain fondness for the more "sophisticated" forms of literature. It flatters me to no end that you look forward to my updates, keeps my fingers typing when I'm too tired to continue.

Lady Jenilyn:

What is with this strange connection you and I seem to have? Oh, who cares? I just hope it continues. It's kinda fun. I thought that it would be fun to just kill Ron in the backhanded, casual manner that Cedric was done in. It adds insult to injury. But imagining him tortured to death at the hands of Death Eaters is even more fun, I think. As for Dumbledore's behavior, I think that your theory here is another layer added to the reasons I gave to Oya and Dianatyne. She is, as a few readers have noted, not the most stable creature, but I never intended for her to be entirely sane. Her father tortured to death because of her mistakes, killing her own brother, all those years cooped up and drugged in Azkaban, suicide attempts - they do things to you. As far as the truth that Lupin was about to spill, in a chapter or so, you'll find out. Which means that, unfortunately, the story's almost over. Quick! Get the chocolate. I'm about to be really depressed.

Sesshumaru's Angel:

I'm glad you approve, dear. I hated him, too, but I think I've mentioned that a time or two ... or six hundred. The truth about Eric's death is coming in a chapter or two. Sit tight.

dalamis:

It's so good to see that you and I seem to share a love for Severus. I feel sorry for him too, especially in this chapter. Your English is very good, dalamis. May I ask you what your native language is?

Queen of the Faeries:

I think you have a good bead on Dumbledore's view of things, but then you always seem to pick out the more subtle aspects of the story, things even I sometimes miss. That's so groovy. I'll go ahead and ease your mind right now, sweetie, without ruining the plot. I hate sad endings, too. There are enough of those in real life to keep me well and truly occupied with heartbreak.

Lexi:

Wow. Thanks for the compliments. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! I promise you that I will keep typing to the bitter end ... not that the end will necessarily be bitter, but ... yeah. I'm going to back away slowly from that subject before I give away the whole darn story. Good to have you, Lexi.

1lonelynagel:

You poor dear. I think that you're the only one to express unhappiness over Ron's death. I'm sorry that it upset you, but I have to admit I enjoyed killing him immensely. I really hate Ron, and while I'm not remotely sorry about that, I am sorry that his death disturbed you. You're one of my sweetest reviewers and I don't like to upset sweet people. Forgive me, dear. On an up-note, I'm thrilled to hear that you're reading Lady Jenilyn's story. It's a really twisty plot with great characterization. I highly recommend it. I agree with you about not sending Emily back to Azkaban. I personally think that she's earned her freedom. On the other hand, I can see Dumbledore's point about not trusting her. She doesn't have your average set of ethics. Hope the update didn't take too long. I got really busy this week. Oh! I almost forgot. That convenient opening you asked for in which I tell you how Sev and Em survived being burned alive, it's coming in the next chapter. (Escaped sticks out her tongue and raspberries angel.) Now, you have to keep reading even if you're mad at me.

Lalala:

Sorry that you think my character is an ass. Perhaps if you looked at her through this vantage point: She joins Voldemort to prove herself to the man she loves, gets a little loopy from the rush of power, directly disobeys the order to kill her brother and barely escapes with her life causing the Death Eaters to torture her father to death. She kills her own brother (tell you why in a few chapters), and is thrown in Azkaban for sixteen years where she is fed a steady diet of sedatives after several suicide attempts. If she seems erratic, it's because she's truly not all there. As far as my fascination with "patriarchal control" goes, that's a take it or leave it aspect of my work. To put it bluntly, I like it rough, really rough, so that's what I write. Occasionally, I'll slip in some romantic, vanilla lovin' such as the scene in which Severus takes her for the first time, but it won't happen often. Period. No apologies. Emily is submissive to Severus in bed. She enjoys being submissive to him. I urge you to let go of your preconceived concepts about BDSM and read up on it. It's not as twisted as you might think. You're not perverted because you don't get off on my "violent" love scenes, sweetie. You just go for a different kind of sex. No big deal. Different strokes and all that. Thanks for your review. Hope this cleared a few things up.

sevrox:

Oh, don't get me wrong. I like questions. You're the reader. You deserve to have your questions answered. That's why I do this. A lot of people seemed pretty happy about Ron's death, so you're not alone there.

Lynette:

Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I can't apologize for the cliffie. I just love 'em! You guys are so cute hanging onto the edge with your fingertips turning blue. I just can't resist!

Captain Oblivious!:

Of course I killed Ron. I hate Ron. Ron sucks - excuse me, sucked. Heh-heh. As for Ginny, yeah the kid's definitely going to need therapy, but I've always seen her as such a strong character, I think she'll hold her own. I'll turn my head while you bash the children. They deserve it. By the way, you're a doll when you're being spastic.