Chapter Fourteen - Transgressions

Having stormed out of The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Snape strode up Knockturn Alley in a furious temper. Never, never, NEVER, had anyone had the audacity – the sheer unmitigated cheek – to speak to him in that manner! He turned into Diagon Alley and the March wind hit him in the face. He pounded fifty yards along the Alley and then stopped dead. He suddenly realised he should never have walked out on Celeste. I should never have left her alone, he thought; not in Knockturn Alley.

He hurried back to the tavern but she was not there. The bar tenders and several customers insisted she had left a few moments earlier. Some of the customers made jeering comments, and Snape was tempted to start a fight – he felt like pulling out his wand and blasting them all to hell. In a swirl of robes he once more left the tavern, panic rising in his heart.

There was no trace of Celeste in Knockturn Alley. Nor in Diagon Alley, which was quite busy – wizards and witches were thronging Mario and Luigi's, or sitting outside Florian Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying impossibly large confections out of ridiculously tall glasses. As he looked around in despair, he had a fleeting impression that, suddenly, nothing was real. Then, gradually the panic in his heart subsided to a forlorn emptiness.

Snape returned to The Necromancer where he was unnecessarily sharp with the young wizard at the reception desk. Nevertheless, the young man checked the board of keys and informed Snape that it appeared that Miss Lavelle was in the hotel. Snape hurried upstairs to the Xerxes Suite. He entered his room, went through the sitting room and knocked softly on the door to Celeste's bedroom. There was no answer. He eased the door open, but the room was silent and dark, so he pelted downstairs and checked the restaurant and bar. Finally he saw her sitting relaxed and composed in the lounge. A coffee cup was in her hand and she was reading a copy of Witch Weekly. He didn't go over to her, and she didn't look up.

Back in his bedroom Snape stared unseeing out of the window at the busy street below. Hours passed and he took to pacing about. He was still angry. And distressed. And lonely – surprisingly lonely. He had grown used to her being there for him. He couldn't sleep and he had no potion to help him. At length the purple All Things Witchy bag on the dressing table caught his eye. Opening it he found it contained a sea green satin camisole top and matching French knickers, and a long purple satin nightdress. All three items were bordered with black silk lace. The nightdress had a deep side-split. He sat down on the bed, his elbows on his knees, the nightdress clutched in his hands. Gradually his shoulders bent forwards and his forehead came to rest against his balled fists. He could smell the newness of the material clenched in his hands. She had bought these for him. Would he ever see her wear them? Hot tears were pricking behind his eyes but he was determined not to give in to them. He hadn't cried since Lily had died, and before that he hadn't cried since he was a small boy. He wasn't going to start now.

It was past eight o'clock when Snape awoke on the following morning. He felt terrible. He had fallen asleep fully dressed on top of the bed. It was almost nine o'clock by the time he had showered and changed his clothes.

Celeste was not in her room but all her belongings were still plainly in view – Snape had half-expected her to have packed and gone. He found her in the Breakfast Room. She had obviously finished her breakfast and was drinking a last cup of black coffee.

"Good morning" she said soberly as he glided up to his seat.

He mumbled something in reply and sat down. "Coffee?" he enquired incredulously, staring into her cup. "Not tea?"

"I had rather too much red wine last night" Celeste said. "I'm chasing out one poison with another." She smiled. "You look awful" she added with soothing honesty, noting his bleary-eyed, puffy face.

"Well you can thank yourself for that" he retorted. A waiter arrived and he considered what to have. "Err, orange juice, toast, and coffee" he snapped.

"Nothing cooked, sir?" the young wizard asked politely.

"No thank you. I am capable of choosing my own food" Snape replied acidly.

"Mixed toast, sir?" the waiter asked, quite unperturbed by Snape's display of bad manners.

"Wholemeal" Snape barked in reply. "And I will have the orange juice immediately."

"As you wish, sir" the waiter said evenly, and disappeared to the kitchen.

On the verge of issuing a reprimand, Celeste glared at Snape, and he returned glare for glare. Do I let this go, she wondered. If I censure him, I'll surely lose him. After a moment she lowered her eyes to her coffee cup, angry with herself for letting him off the hook. His orange juice arrived.

Why did I say wholemeal, Snape asked himself in exasperation. I much prefer white. What on Earth possessed me to say wholemeal? I can't change it now – I'd look a complete fool. Does she know? He stole a glance at Celeste looking demurely into her cup. Of course she does, he realised savagely.

Celeste took a sip of coffee. "What shall we do today?" she asked lightly.

"I'm surprised you're still here" Snape growled back. He saw her wince at his words and felt ashamed.

"Why? I wasn't the one to leave" she replied coolly. "You walked out on me … well … stormed out on me would be more accurate." She said the words objectively, as if she was describing an experiment.

"You really are THE most infuriating person" he hissed. Suddenly, inside his head, he could imagine Hooch's voice scolding 'Oh, why don't you grow up, Severus'. The rest of his breakfast arrived and he busied himself with buttering toast. The Breakfast Room emptied and a silence fell as he munched. His conscience pricked him as he recalled his behaviour of the previous evening. Celeste had remained calm. She had been upset but under control as she talked about the Boggart. She hadn't raised her voice or made a scene. He should not have abandoned her – certainly not in The Sorcerer's Apprentice!

Any other witch would have burst into tears, or slapped his face, or walked out. He hadn't realised just how tough Celeste could be. Yet her resourceful Auror of a mother had rescued her father from near death and got him to hospital. She still looked after him, coped with his trauma and the loss of her sons. God knows what sort of life they had together, but Aurora Lavelle was loyal to Lucien. Given that, he shouldn't underestimate Celeste – she had coped with months of his hostility and intimidation at Hogwarts.

"So you still want to spend the day with me" he said at length. His mind was racing.

"Of course" Celeste replied evenly. "I have no intention of going anywhere else. Can I have one of your pieces of toast? Thank you. I was wondering" she continued, speaking as she ate, "about hiring a car and taking you for a drive. I presume you don't drive." Her large eyes scrutinized him carefully.

"No. No I don't drive" he said softly. "I've hardly ever been in a car."

"Well, it's just an idea" she explained. "We could have a day out, and be back here for dinner. And it would fit in with an errand I could get done. What do you think?"

"Err, yes, very well" he said cautiously.

She took out her mobile phone and a series of beeps filled the empty room. He watched her speak into the Muggle device. The person she spoke to seemed to know her.

"No, not a sports car this time" she was saying. "Something large and comfortable – a big saloon. Oh yes! Perhaps. 1982? A Silver Spirit. Yes, I'll take it. We'll be with you within the hour. Thanks, Mr Bryant. See you later. Good bye."

After breakfast they went upstairs, because Celeste insisted Snape must do something about his wizard robes. He would probably be too hot in his robe, she pointed out, as he would need to wear his cloak. And he would need his hat and boots. While he was changing his clothes, she hauled on her boots. Before they set off she eyed him appreciatively and nodded, seeming satisfied with the result. In his Fedora hat, outdoor cloak and long supple, Cavalier-style leather boots, he looked theatrical but quite acceptable.

They slipped through The Leaky Cauldron and into Muggle London. Celeste hailed a black cab for the short journey to Heritage in Motion, where a 1982 Rolls Royce Silver Spirit was waiting for them. The Silver Spirit was painted silver and it gleamed invitingly. Celeste had decided on a Rolls because she wanted Snape to feel secure and pampered. She was sure he would appreciate this!

The car-hire staff did indeed know Celeste; on seeing her they hailed her by name. As she dealt with the paperwork, a company employee stood by the car's passenger doors, waiting to hold a door open for Snape.

"Will you be riding in the front or the rear, sir?" he asked discretely, indicating the doors with a white-gloved hand.

Snape settled into the front passenger seat, wondering with some amusement how Celeste might react if he had chosen a rear seat and treated her as a chauffeur. He noted with appreciation the car's walnut facia, and pale grey Wilton carpet trimmed with hide piping that exactly matched the grey leather upholstery. He gazed around, impressed, at the seventeen feet of unashamed luxury.

"It's called the Spirit of Ecstasy" Celeste informed him, as she slid into the driving seat. "The mascot you're staring at" she added. "The lady on top of the radiator grill."

"Oh, I see" Snape replied. "I didn't think of it having a name."

She glided out of the car-hire premises and drove south and west. Snape liked the appreciative looks the car drew from passers by, but he felt adequately separated from the Muggle world. As they drove, Celeste drew his attention to a few famous sites – the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club at Wimbledon, and Hampton Court Palace. On route she drove him through Richmond Park and then through Bushey Park. Snape had only the vaguest notion of the Wimbledon Tennis Tournament and knew nothing of the historical connection between the Muggle games of tennis and croquet. He had heard of Hampton Court Palace and pondered whether they might one day go to see the collections of tapestries and fine carpets. He didn't suggest it today, however – he was still too angry with her.

The car's engine was whisper-quiet and Snape noticed the journey between these various places took very little time – Celeste had not forgotten the tricks she had learned from transport staff at the Ministry. Finally she headed out into the Surrey countryside and they stopped for a stroll on Headley Heath near Box Hill.

Not having eaten much at breakfast, they were soon ready for a meal, and they lunched quite early, at a public house at Abinger Hammer. It was crowded, but Celeste seemed to be able to get a table. Snape half suspected she had used a memory charm to cause some Muggles to vacate their table. He watched her stepping up to the bar to order drinks and find a menu, so at home in the Muggle world. She made a phone call while they were at lunch and then said to Snape "I'm going to pick up my post on the way back".

Her route 'back' was still quite a large circuit. She drove out towards Windsor to point out the castle, and then headed back into London on the M4. The speed of the motorway traffic made Snape think he was flying around a wind-free Quidditch pitch, with all the players travelling in the same direction. He was amazed by the number of planes buzzing around Heathrow Airport. He was used to seeing the odd plane fly over the Alleys of London, but he had never been aware of them lining up a mere few minutes apart to land, and taking off at the same closely packed rate.

Near Hounslow, Celeste took a detour to Whitton on the edge of Twickenham.

"Now for my errand" she said as she sped down Nelson Road.

Not far from the rugby ground she swung the car up onto the kerb opposite an ordinary looking semi-detached house, trotted across the busy road and spoke to a Muggle who was digging in his front garden. He greeted her courteously, went into his house and reappeared moments later with a handful of letters. When she got back to the car Celeste handed the letters to Snape.

"My Muggle post" she said. "Bank statements and so forth. Mr Wheeler provides my Muggle address. For a fee of course. He probably thinks I'm a Russian spy. You can open them if you like" she added, seeing Snape staring curiously at the envelopes.

But Snape's mind was again racing. Mr Wheeler, he was thinking! The 'F. Wheeler' of the cheque book stubs – he's a Muggle who provides Celeste with a Muggle address. Is he nothing to worry about after all?

They glided back to central London, returned the Rolls Royce and took a taxi back to The Leaky Cauldron where they stopped for a quick drink. As Celeste went off to the Ladies Room she said to Snape "You will be here when I get back, won't you." He couldn't help giving her a sheepish smile.

By half-past-six they were entering The Necromancer.

At dinner they chatted quietly over the day's events. Snape knew very little of London and the Home Counties, or indeed of Britain. His dealings with Voldemort and the Death Eaters had necessitated the odd foray into central Europe, but aside from that he knew nothing of the outside world. He hardy even knew anything about his home environs in Suffolk. He knew Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and the magical community's London alleyways. Essentially that had been the sum total of his universe.

Celeste was amazed at his unfamiliarity with Muggle life. The wizarding world was small in comparison, and she considered it essential to be able to function in the Muggle world. To understand their money and be able to operate telephones were, in her opinion, minimum requirements. He's been fighting a war for too long, she decided as she regarded Snape. What has it been now – twenty years, twenty-five? Too long; he needs to know what real life can be like and what the world at large is like.

Their evening conversation moved on, ranging widely over many topics and finally landing upon the nature of consciousness. They debated whether human consciousness was separate from people's physical bodies – the 'ghost in the machine' theory – or whether it was a property of the living cells themselves. Snape was quite supportive of the ghost in the machine concept, because it seemed to fit with the observations of people becoming soulless shells in Azkaban. Celeste supported the notion that consciousness was a result of interactions between living cells – principally brain cells – although she held the view that all cells had at least a rudimentary form of consciousness, which manifested itself as a response to the surroundings. She suspected the soulless shells in Azkaban still retained a measure of consciousness.

They slept together that night but they didn't make love. Celeste was affectionate and ready to respond but she was careful to make no demands. Snape still felt too guilty and angry for romance. It began to rain. As he lay awake in the dead of night, listening to her even breathing, and the pattering rain, and to the muted chimes of Gringotts clock sounding through the open window, he had to admit her assessment of him was accurate. He did bully the students – some of them. And he enjoyed it! And he didn't want anyone observing his teaching because he didn't want his behaviour exposed or criticised. He was not prepared to admit it openly, but aside from the mere predicament of being 'found out', criticism was a thing Snape greatly feared – it was like a Portkey, propelling him back to the painful days of his childhood.

Twice Celeste had challenged him, being very direct in what she said, cutting through any smokescreens to expose the truth. Even if she had no hard evidence, she would confront him with her suspicions. Fearlessly.

"Bloody Gryffindors" Snape mumbled.

He still loved her, though. She hadn't run out on him. She hadn't left. Unwittingly, this was important to him because buried deep in Snape's subconscious was the notion that 'women always left'. His mother had disappeared from his life, and Lily had, too, in her turn. Women were ephemeral beings like butterflies – attractive, diverting, comforting, but essentially transient, unreliable.

But Celeste was not like his mother. Although an archetypal beauty, she was worldly – tougher and 'older' certainly than she looked. She had proven herself to be a loyal and steadfast friend. Devious, too, in her way. Staunchly ethical about the things that were of the utmost importance to her, but possibly a little less than ethical when it suited her.

I have to get her back, he concluded. She is too precious to lose. But that means paying her price. Can I pay her price? That was the other thing about women, and this was a view he consciously held – every woman he had ever managed to lure into his bed had exacted a price. During his teenage days the price had been a love potion the witch of the moment wanted him to make for her, to ensnare some wizard of her dreams, or a 'darker' potion to use on an enemy. As he grew older things got simpler – normally the transaction was merely a matter of cash, unless he risked putting his victim under the Imperious Curse. No one ever wanted him for himself.

But Celeste's price would be more difficult to pay – it seemed to call for a change in his conduct. She wanted him to change for the sake of what she held to be right. And from a few hints she had dropped during the evening, it appeared she saw that as being of benefit to him too. It seemed she did love him.

For the first time in his life Snape realised how much he loved her. He though back over their time together. I was certainly in love with her when the Wilson twins died, he realised; I may have been in love with her that night I found her in the prefects bathroom. Each time I thought fate had taken her from me. Am I now to be the hand of fate that brings that very thing about?

But can I be the person Celeste wants me to be? Can I even be the person I would like to be? I made a radical change once before – rejected the Dark side. Can I manage such a change again? Is it too much against my nature? But if I don't, will I stay as I am forever – a fairly mediocre teacher, with an 'unacceptable pass rate'.

Two o'clock sounded.

Snape scooped his left arm under Celeste's neck and stroked her shoulder. Automatically she snuggled against him, sliding her arm across his chest. With his free hand he cupped her breast, feeling the nipple harden at his touch. He stroked her face. On the verge of waking up, she raised her face to his, hoping to be kissed. Her lips were parting. He stroked his hand gently down her stomach and onward. As her legs parted in anticipation of his caresses, he inclined his head an inch or so and kissed her, sliding his left arm back to bury his hand in her hair, holding her mouth to his. He murmured her name. He knew he couldn't resist her any more; he needed to make love to her. He needed her desperately now, and he needed to reassure himself that she needed him.

When they awoke at breakfast time it was raining heavily, and it continued all through breakfast. Celeste tried out her new green dress, but though her wool dress would probably be more sensible. She decided to change after breakfast.

Snape had had vague plans of a theatre trip for the evening but not being sure of Celeste's tastes he had not pre-booked anything, and then their argument had caused him to shelve all plans. Now it looked as though the bad weather was set for the day, so they considered what they might do. Snape insisted that whatever they did, he needed to go to the bank and Celeste must go with him.

The hotel's duty receptionist showed them some leaflets about various matinée performances they might attend to occupy their afternoon and Celeste spotted a performance of Carmina Burana by the Virtuosi Choral Ensemble of Ghent. "Oh, I love this!" she said. "Do you know it?"

She had pronounced it Car-min-ah, with the stress falling on the first syllable, as in majesty or ecstasy.

Snape looked at the leaflet. "Carmina!" he exclaimed. "It's an opera."

"It's a choral work, really" Celeste explained. "A collection of medieval poems and songs in Latin and Middle-High German. Set to music by Carl Orff in the mid-1930s. Mother had tickets for me as a birthday present last year, but we couldn't go. Father was unwell and she spent a couple of nights at St Mungo's instead. Originally we were hoping to go literally on my birthday, but there wasn't a performance on the Sunday; only on the Saturday. I was a bit wary of taking time off, as that was the night of the Hallowe'en Feast, and I thought it would look bad if I wasn't at school, as I was so new to Hogwarts. Anyway, it wasn't to be – Father was ill and the whole plan was scrapped."

But Snape wasn't paying attention. "A birthday treat" he whispered. "Your birthday is on October the thirty-first?"

"No, it's November the first – it was on the Sunday" Celeste repeated.

"I remember your cards, lined up on the mantle" he murmured. He did remember them, and the quarrel they had had the following evening – it was the evening Celeste had accused him of manipulating her timetable. She had yelled something after him as he stormed off down the corridor. Ah yes; there you were, storming off again, he realised.

Snape asked the receptionist to see if two tickets for the matinée performance could be obtained. "I want the best seats you can get!" he stressed, pressing a gold coin into the young wizard's hand.

When they went to fetch their cloaks Celeste said she was going to change into a warmer dress.

"No, don't" he said sharply. "That green dress is perfect."

"But I'll be cold, Severus. It's tipping down outside!"

"Your cloak will keep you warm. Now, come on, please – I want to get to the bank."

He seemed edgy, or possibly even afraid.

And yet as they hurried to the bank in the pouring rain Snape could have laughed out loud. Mr Wheeler didn't seem too threatening and the mysterious Carmina wasn't a person at all!

Snape asked Celeste to accompany him to his vault, so this she did, but dutifully waited at the door with the goblin attendant. She was surprised to see that Snape's vault was large enough to walk into. Snape asked the goblin to wait at one side, warning him that they would be some time. He then beckoned Celeste inside. She was very hesitant about entering the vault, protesting that it was a breach of privacy, but Snape was most insistent. His vault was quite an Aladdin's cave – there were many piles of gold coin and some of silver. There were also precious objects. He picked up a black leather case and, standing close to her, he opened it. It contained a silver necklace in the form of two serpents. Their minute, smooth, interlinked scales were of marvellous workmanship. The tales linked together to form the clasp. Their necks crossed over, forming the bottom loop of a distorted 'figure of eight' shape, and set between their heads was a single, very fine, long oval emerald. Tiny emerald chips formed the serpents' eyes. The necklace was clearly of ancient workmanship.

"I want you to have this" Snape murmured gravely. "Please turn around, Celeste."

She held up her hair and with trembling fingers Snape fastened the clasp. Then, he walked around her, admiring the necklace which sat perfectly at the base of her slender neck.

"Magnificent!" he whispered, his eyebrows arching. "Exquisite! My mother used to wear this – it looks just as well on you. It has been in our family for many generations."

Her eyes widened. "This is an heirloom of the House of Salazar Slytherin" she ventured. "I thank you, but I cannot accept this, Severus. This must be reserved for your wife."

"Ah, yes" he said. "And that brings me to another little matter." Looking embarrassed, he faced her, took her hands in his and glanced down at the floor. He hesitated as if wondering what to do with his body which had become suddenly awkward. Eventually he sank down onto one knee. She could feel his hands trembling and his grip tightening. Finally he raised his head and looked into her eyes; the dark, fathomless gaze searching her soul.

"You know only too well that I am not a perfect man" he began. "But I do love you, Celeste. And I cannot bear the thought of living without you. You can see that I am a man of some means – the proof, here, is all around you. Will you take this unworthy, cantankerous, miserable fool to be your husband?"

After watching her for a second he lowered his head, dreading her refusal. She pulled a hand free of his, lifted his chin, leaned forward, and kissed him.

"I should be honoured" she replied.

Snape stood up, his head spinning. He kissed her lightly at first and then passionately. The goblin, waiting patiently outside the vault door, shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Finally Snape broke away and said "Since, Celeste, you have consented, may I offer you this as well?"

He picked up a small red leather box. It contained a wide platinum ring, built up into steep shoulders like a man's signet ring. Set into the peak was a square-cut, rather flat, deep green emerald with a heart of blue fire. On each shoulder, flanking this fine stone, was a smaller, very brilliant diamond.

"This was my mother's wedding ring" he explained. "You may prefer to have a traditional gold ring of course, but I though I might show you this."

He slipped the ring onto her finger but it was a little too small to fit properly. Celeste was a strong, muscular witch with a relatively heavy skeleton. By contrast Snape's mother had been exceptionally slender, indeed rather frail.

"I would very much like to have this" Celeste said softly. "If it could safely be made bigger. I wouldn't want to risk it being damaged. Severus, we have to talk." She looked suddenly worried. "There are things I need to say – things I need to know. Can we return to our sitting room? We will have privacy there."

In the sitting room of their hotel suite Snape paced anxiously about for a while and then settled in an armchair. Near to him, Celeste stood at the window looking out at the pouring rain.

"First of all" she said "I need to know what you want from a marriage. I don't know if you want children, or whether you expect your wife to have a career. Or indeed what your own long-term ambitions and hopes are."

"I see" Snape said. Fleetingly he looked relieved, but as he thought on, his anxiety returned. "I do hope one day to be a father" he said awkwardly. "I hope for sons and daughters. I don't mean I want a whole tribe of children like the Weasleys. I would expect my wife to look after the children while they are small. Once they are at school however, that is a different matter. I do not see why you could not go back to teaching if the hours could be made to fit." He had slipped from talking objectively to talking about her. "I have no objection to our children going to Muggle Primary School. But I vehemently hope they will go on to Hogwarts."

He paused, but not wanting to influence him or prompt him in any false direction, she said nothing; so he continued. "As to ambitions, I am content to be House Master, certainly. If the opportunity arises to become Head or Deputy Head I will most definitely apply – I believe I am competent to fulfil such a rôle. I do not have any great ambitions. If you want to be married to the Minister for Magic, I'm afraid, I … I am not the man."

"And if you didn't have children?"

"Do you not want children?" he countered.

"I do. But I'm just saying what if we didn't have any? What then?"

Snape seemed nonplussed. "Then … well … then we both … just teach. Full time. I suppose, in that event, we could continue to live at Hogwarts. If we have a family we will need a house. Hopefully we can find something near to Hogsmeade. If there is nothing to our taste I can have a house built – I can provide for a family, Celeste! You need have no fears– I am a wealthy man; I have much in the way of funds earning interest on deposit; not just the assets you saw in the vault–"

"So you would be prepared to marry me even if we didn't have children?" she said, interrupting him.

"Oh … yes!" he gasped. "Oh, ye gods, yes! Is that what this is all about?" He thought he understood now. He got up and hurried over to her, reaching out to put his arms around her. "Celeste, do not worry" he added reassuringly. "I just want us to be together – whatever happens. I'm hoping you want the same too."

Celeste had turned from the window and was looking very forcefully back at him. "I do" she said. "I promise you, Severus, I do. I love you very, very much. I do want to marry you; and if I do not marry you I don't think I will ever– No, this is NOT THE POINT! Please. Sit down. I must not be deflected from what I need to say."

Her hands had balled into fists. Bewilderment crossed Snape's face, followed by a trace of anger. "This harks back to that damned Boggart, doesn't it" he said flatly, returning to his chair. He didn't sit down however; he paced slowly around it, one hand playing on its back.

"Yes" she said simply, relaxing her fingers. "I have no doubt that you can provide for your wife and family. I have no fears that you couldn't keep a roof over our heads and keep us fed. But children need more than material security. They need–"

She was lost, casting about hopelessly, trying to tread a path between tact and honesty. So Snape put the thought into words for her, knowing that in doing so he voiced what he feared to hear her say. "You think I will be cruel to our children" he said coldly. "I can assure you I have never, never hurt a child; never raised my hand to a pupil."

"I'm not talking of you beating them" Celeste explained. "I'm talking of intimidation; mental cruelty. I will not bring children into the world for you to bully or intimidate! If you will still have me, I will marry you. But before we start a family I will need to see a change in you – a change of behaviour."

Anger boiled inside him and in two strides he was in front of her. He snarled and put his hands around her throat, resting his thumbs lightly across her windpipe. Under his palms her pulse fluttered rapidly and he knew from experience that she was very afraid. But she didn't attempt to move. He knew he wasn't going to kill her, or even push her to the edge – his days of uncontrolled violence were long in the past, but he had a fierce desire to strike fear into her; to shatter that cool poise, that maddening ability to challenge, that inbuilt self-assurance. He increased the pressure of his hands very slightly and his lips curled.

Resolutely, she stared him out. With difficulty she spoke.

"I love you, Severus" she whispered. "I will always be here for you – unless you send me away. I will be your wife if you wish. But as for children – I believe I have made my position plain. If you are going to strangle me, do so without harming the necklace. It would be a tragedy to damage such a fine work of craftsmanship."

She hadn't even reached for her wand. She was tough. And was she, as he had once thought, too good to be true? No, he decided; it was simply that Celeste was 'true'. Honest. Obstinate but sincere. He heaved a sigh, closed his eyes and bent his forehead to hers, relaxing his hands so that they cradled her neck but no longer encircled it.

"You bitch" he breathed. "I don't deserve you. I don't want to do as you ask. I've never needed anyone like I need you. What choice do I have?"

You asked yourself this last night, he thought to himself. You knew it would come to this. You have reached – what would she call it in Chaos Theory? A cusp point. You either fall back to the ground state, or you flip into a new state. And the transition is often traumatic. Either way.

"I think…" he said slowly.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I think… I think, we should go to see Herr Klaftenberger in Di Vios Alley. He should be able to enlarge that wedding ring. If not… I'm sure he will have something you will like. If not… I will scour the magical jewel smiths of Europe for a ring that pleases you, Madam. Because I am never, never going to forgo the chance of making you my wife."

Herr Klaftenberger said it would be a simple matter to widen the ring. He took careful measurement of Celeste's finger and promised to have the task completed within a fortnight. He then took Snape's measurement because Celeste said she wanted to have a ring made for him, but its design was to be a secret – not to be revealed until the wedding ceremony itself.

They concluded their business with the jeweller and wandered out into the rain, pulling up their hoods.

"It's been quite a morning" Snape said. "I feel like I've been on the rack." He glared up at the rain. "Hmm. How about coffee at Florian's? We'll have to sit inside this time. And hopefully no one else will arrive out of the blue to regale us with anecdotes of my past transgressions."