A/N – Sorry about the delay, but this part is a substantial one, which I hope will make up for the wait.
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Adrienne re-read the parchment a second time, then a third.
I can't believe I did it!
Oh, god, I'm going to really have to scramble to be ready.
A door slammed.
"Don't slam the door, Garrett," she called automatically.
"Sorry, Mom," echoed in the distance.
He did a little better with the bathroom door – probably only because she had just reminded him two seconds before – and in a tiny part of her mind that was not racing with excitement, she wondered how many times she would have to repeat the same instruction before it actually sunk into his head.
Then she re-read the parchment again. Having reviewed all the submissions, the committee is pleased to accept your abstract, entitled "Developments in Inhalation Delivery: Analysis of Modifications Required in the Brewing Process to Adapt Ingested and Topical Potions for Efficacious Inhalation – Theory and Practice" for publication as part of the Western Regional Confederation of Alchemists and Potion Brewers Quadrennial Conference. Moreover, the committee is pleased to extend to you an invitation to present your findings on this topic, and suggests that three hours would be an appropriate length for your address …
Having a fairly healthy ego, she had been reasonably optimistic that they would at least accept her abstract, but she hadn't expected to be offered three hours for a presentation! The conference was only held every four years, and even having her abstract accepted for publication would have been an achievement – something to mark the start of her return to active research. Adrienne didn't really count the preliminary article in the Gazette in the spring; it had been very well received, and she had received some very flattering responses, but that had been written for a much broader audience rather than her professional peers – this was completely different.
As far as actually speaking, well, she would have been thrilled even to be offered a spot on a panel, but she hadn't really expected it. Her specialty was a bit obscure and she hadn't even been able to attend the last conference, which had been held right after Grace was born. But three hours meant that her work was significant enough to warrant a full half-day on the schedule! There were usually less than a handful of presentations that got that much time.
I've got to make this good, she vowed. It would mean a lot of very hard work over the next few months before the conference in December, but if she managed to pull this off …
"What are you grinning about?" Garrett asked.
"I've been invited to make a speech," Adrienne told him.
"A speech?"
"About my work," Adrienne explained, "to a lot of other people who do similar work."
"Okay." Garrett's attention returned to a matter of real importance. "When's dinner?"
Nothing like children to keep your ego in check.
Adrienne dealt with dinner – and homework questions – and Grace's bath – and bedtime – before she sat down to pen an acceptance of the invitation to speak, wishing idly that there was someone – an adult someone – to share this with. She settled for owling a few friends with the news.
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Adrienne was unsurprised to see Maggie pop out of the fireplace on Saturday. She was expected – but so were Annabel and the baby. She shot a look of inquiry at the dark-haired witch, but Maggie merely smiled and stepped aside for the next arrival.
"Catherine? What are you doing here?" Catherine was dressed in a simple, but elegant, navy sheath, and laughed as she gave Adrienne a quick hug in greeting.
"We came to steal you away for a celebration," Catherine twinkled at her. "A speaking invitation like that one certainly deserves a night out on the town with the girls!"
"Michael will keep an eye on the kids," Maggie added practically.
"All five of them?" Adrienne protested automatically.
Catherine shot her a look. "Yes, Michael will watch all five of them instead of your watching all five of them," she said dryly. "He's perfectly capable of handling a little childcare, even if he does happen to be male."
"Not arguing, just asking," Adrienne retorted immediately, hands raised in surrender.
"I'll take the kids back to our house while you change for dinner," Maggie directed.
"I haven't even had lunch yet," Adrienne objected.
"Well, for lunch, you're having supper in Paris," Catherine told her, adding with the frankness of long friendship, "and you're not wearing that, so get a move on!"
With Maggie deftly handling the children, Adrienne allowed herself to be swept upstairs to change, quickly slipping into her useful little claret dress and trying to remember the last time she had been anywhere without the children. A little over two hours later, they had finished a delicious meal accompanied by an excellent wine, and were enjoying a fabulously decadent dessert course while laughing at one of Maggie's stories about Michael's courtship.
"So Michael just looked down and told him 'I believe you dropped something' in this very kind tone, and he turned bright red and bolted out of there," Maggie finished.
"Oh, god, I wish I'd seen it," Catherine gasped, dabbing at her eyes between bouts of laughter.
"What about your new husband?" Adrienne prompted. "Didn't he ever do anything unusual to get rid of a rival?" They weren't really tipsy, just pleasantly loose – as much from the momentary lack of responsibilities as from the wine – and it seemed like a good time to indulge her curiosity about Catherine's very hasty marriage.
Catherine shook her head as she tasted a forkful of a tarte tatin.
"Nothing?" Maggie prodded. "Come on, we've spilled."
"He didn't have any rivals," Catherine pointed out. "Actually, I don't suppose we really had a courtship either. We just got married."
Adrienne reached over and took Catherine's fork hostage. "Dish," she commanded.
"Sorry, Adrienne, but the only, well, silly thing about our courtship was the fact that we didn't have one. And maybe the fact that I had no idea he was at all interested in me until we got engaged," she added reflectively.
"Well, then, what's he like?"
"Remus?" Catherine looked surprised. "Didn't you meet him at the wedding?"
Adrienne rolled her eyes, but it was Maggie who answered.
"We both met him – long enough that I might be able to recognize him the next time we meet – but that's it. Not a lot to go on. Despite the fact that I am your sister-in-law."
Catherine obviously heard the trace of hurt in Maggie's voice. "Maggie, I'm so sorry. I never meant to upset you. We just wanted to skip all the fuss and get married. It was selfish of us, and I apologize if I hurt your feelings."
Maggie sniffed a little, but conceded, "Well, it was your wedding. You might as well have had it the way you wanted it. It was just a bit of a shock to find out you were marrying someone I'd never even met."
"Which brings us back to the question of what he's like?" Adrienne prompted deftly.
"Well, he's …" Catherine seemed to be at a loss for words. It was some time before she spoke, and then her voice was unusually soft. "You know that quote that goes something like 'There is nothing so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength'? That's what he's like," she told them, and held out her hand for her fork. Adrienne was fascinated to see pink tingeing Catherine's cheeks.
"Catherine, are you blushing?" Adrienne asked, surrendering the fork immediately.
Catherine kept her eyes on the tarte tatin she was spearing with her fork. "Well, I can't talk about him much without sounding goopy, and I positively refuse to sound goopy, so that's all you're going to get. You can make up your own minds when you get to know him."
"Is 'goopy' even a word?" Adrienne asked lightly.
"If it isn't, I just invented it," Catherine parried humorously.
"It was very descriptive." Adrienne spun her spoon idly in her chocolate mousse. "We didn't mean to embarrass you, you know. It's been a long time since I was 'just married' myself. And I'm glad you found someone who makes you feel 'goopy'," she added kindly, wondering privately whether or not this was a good sign. It seemed very unlike Catherine to fall for someone untrustworthy, but still –
"Well, the wedding itself was beautiful," Maggie contributed. "I know you're not crazy about ceremonies like that, but it really was very nicely done – especially on practically no notice."
"I think Severus regarded it as a challenge," Catherine said with a touch of whimsy. "Either that or he was paying me back for sticking him with all the work!"
"Speaking of work, if you need some extra time to get ready for the conference, I'll be happy to take the kids more often," Maggie offered generously.
"Thanks, Maggie. I may need to take you up on that, but I'll pay you and Michael back after the conference," Adrienne promised gratefully. "I wasn't expecting them to want such a long presentation," she admitted. "I may need a vacation when this is over with!"
"With or without the kids?" Catherine asked drolly, and they all laughed. "That reminds me, what does my goddaughter want for her birthday?"
Adrienne shot a comically accusing glance at Maggie, who retorted, "Hey, the puppy was Michael's idea, not mine."
Catherine looked amused. "Does the puppy have a name yet?"
"We've been informed that his name is Pepper," Maggie said dryly, her face softening a little.
Adrienne laughed. "An all-white puppy, and she named him Pepper?"
"Annabel says that's his name," Maggie said with some resignation, "and we didn't argue the point, so 'Pepper' he is."
"Grace may want a puppy, but does Grace's mother want Grace to have a puppy?" Catherine asked pointedly.
"An untrained animal – not yet housebroken – loose in the same house as my lab? Not high on my list, but it seems to be important to Grace."
"What about Lempkin?" Catherine proposed.
Adrienne blinked in surprise. "But Catherine, she's yours!"
"I know, but I haven't been able to spend much time with her since I boarded her in the spring – which I would feel much worse about if Ted Zelko wasn't so good with her. I didn't want to take her off the rolls for use in handling nogtails, which is what would happen if I took her permanently out of the country. She's already trained and housebroken, and Ted will continue boarding her whenever you like at no charge as long as you keep her on the rolls. You could always take her for a visit and see how it works out," Catherine suggested.
Adrienne took another spoonful of mousse as she mulled this over.
"If you want to send her along to my house with Grace while you're working, it wouldn't be a problem," Maggie told her. "Having his mother around during the day may help with training Pepper. Certainly couldn't hurt."
"Grace will be thrilled," Adrienne said firmly, deciding to accept the offer. "Thank you. Both of you."
"That's what we're here for," Catherine announced cheerfully, her blue-gray eyes dancing again.
"You'll have to be careful about Tristan's birthday, though," Adrienne added unthinkingly, "as he's decided I'm ready for a new husband."
Catherine and Maggie exchanged quick glances. Bobby's former partner let Maggie take the lead this time.
"What do you think?" Maggie asked cautiously.
"Well, I –" Adrienne looked up a little guiltily. "It has been a while now. I'm not ready for a new husband – sometimes I don't think I'll ever be ready for that – and I worry about Tristan thinking there's a way to replace his father – but lately I've starting thinking that it might be nice to have someone to do things with," she tried to explain wistfully, "adult things."
"Sex?" Maggie questioned very directly.
"I was thinking more along the lines of an occasional visit to the opera," Adrienne clarified drolly. "Not that I don't miss sex, but at this point I'd be happy to have regular conversations with someone who doesn't think Cheerios is both a breakfast food and a toy!"
Catherine spoke up then. "That sounds perfectly normal," she said gently, "and I can't imagine Bobby wanted you to spend the rest of your life alone."
"You don't think it's too soon?" Adrienne asked weakly.
"Of course not," Catherine replied bracingly. "It's been over four years, for heaven's sake. How much of your life did you think you had to give up just because your husband died?"
This eminently practical perspective swept away fears Adrienne had been afraid to admit she felt. Catherine had only ever known Adrienne as Bobby's wife – well, his wife and his widow. She hadn't realized until she was already into this conversation how much Catherine's acceptance meant to her.
Maybe it was because Catherine was so closely associated in Adrienne's mind with Bobby – and Catherine was probably the person who knew him best, other than Adrienne. Catherine's permission to start dating again – and Adrienne admitted to herself that she had been asking for that permission, albeit in a very roundabout way – was probably as close as Adrienne could ever get to having Bobby's permission to move on with her life.
But Catherine was looking at her with only sympathetic understanding in her blue-gray eyes, and even Maggie was looking unusually compassionate.
"If you're thinking we're going to tell you that you should have immolated yourself on your husband's funeral pyre, think again," Maggie said acidly, adding with a sniff, "an idea only a man could have come up with, I've always thought!"
Adrienne felt her eyes tearing unexpectedly, but she managed a watery smile. "I don't know if I've mentioned it lately, but you two are the best!"
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Early winter, 1997
Emmeline nestled prettily against him, and Severus tried to hide his dissatisfaction. The problem was that he had nothing be dissatisfied about.
He and Emmeline had been lovers for a while now, and the sex was – well, it was fine, he supposed. Emmeline was a beautiful woman. She certainly aroused him, and physically, he had no cause for complaint. He had just expected to feel more connected to her, more – well, just more.
"Emmeline?"
"Yes, lover?" she cooed, squirming kittenishly.
"Are you satisfied with our lovemaking?" he asked awkwardly, wondering why he felt so uncomfortable. Considering some of the things they'd done there was no reason for him to feel uneasy with such a mild reference to them.
Emmeline peered up at him, blinking her long dark lashes. "Why, Severus, how can you even ask?" she pouted. "You know you and 'little Sevvie' are just the best." Considering what her hand was doing, it didn't seem like a tactful time to tell her how much he loathed that particular nickname.
"How is everything with the Order?" she asked casually as she continued to stroke him.
"As expected," he said neutrally, concealing his irritation at the question. He had told her repeatedly that Albus had instructed him not to discuss the Order with her. Considering her betrayal of the Order, she ought to have been more understanding, but she started asking again when they became lovers and pouted when he refused to answer. In desperation, he had finally switched from outright refusals to meaningless answers, but he couldn't help wishing she'd have the consideration not to keep bringing it up.
"Are they making much headway in evaluating recruitment efforts among the –"
Severus hauled her hard against him and silenced her mouth by kissing her aggressively. "Surely we can think of better uses for those delectable lips," he suggested.
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Severus added the last of the Advanced Potions essays he had graded to the stack with satisfaction. The seventh-years were coming along nicely – not that he'd ever say so. There was still more than half the year to go, but their performance on the N.E.W.T.'s was not going to disgrace him. He no longer had to put up with the worst of the fumblers at this point. Potter was still irritating, but the Granger girl partnered him and kept him from any overt disasters. His work was hardly inspired – Draco was still much better even if Granger held the advantage in marks so far – but his presence in the classroom was less intolerable than he had thought it would be when he allowed Minerva to convince him to accept the boy into his advanced class.
And next year, no more Potter in class at all! Severus allowed a rare smile to cross his face, before his thoughts wandered back to Draco's essay. There was something teasing his mind about a point Draco had made on stability –
He had just located the paragraph he wanted in Draco's essay when the Headmaster summoned him, and he was forced to set it aside.
Minerva and Kingsley were both in the Headmaster's office when he arrived.
"There's been a development in the investigation of the theft of firewhiskey yesterday from the Three Broomsticks," Kingsley reported when they were all seated.
"Are you still thinking that a student did this?" Dumbledore asked, sounding troubled. "I hate to think that one of them would abuse the town's hospitality that way."
"I'm afraid so. We found a scrap that appears to be torn from a student robe, but that's not actually why I stopped by. We had another one of those weird detection debates again. Healers debating about whether or not a Confusing Concoction was used?" Kingsley reminded them. "But this time we may have caught a break. All the Healers agree that one of the people we tested was hit with a Confusing Concoction."
"Who was it?" Minerva inquired.
"Janice Hooper," Kingsley replied. The Headmaster frowned thoughtfully.
"Didn't she have some sort of chronic medical condition?" Minerva asked.
"An ailment affecting her lungs, I believe," Dumbledore interjected.
"Well, they all agree that a Confusing Concoction was used on her, although they don't agree on whether or not the others in the bar at the time were subjected to one or not," Kingsley reported. "And she and Rosmerta both insist she didn't have anything to eat or drink – she came by to talk with Rosmerta about some Merchants' Association business – so that doesn't make any sense either."
Severus' mind sorted quickly through the new data. "Airborne," he announced. The others turned to look at him with varying degrees of surprise.
"You may be right," the Headmaster said reflectively after a momentary consideration. Minerva frowned.
"I thought inhalation potions were too unreliable to be used effectively?" she questioned.
"They have been," Severus agreed. "Managing the stability of the potion during the conversion to an aerosol form has proved impractical. It has also been nearly impossible to adjust the concentration properly. The rate of absorption through the lungs is very different from the rate of ingested absorption, but the relationship between those rates varies greatly – by potion, and sometimes apparently by individual. It's a very tricky subspecialty, but it has received some attention in the mainstream press lately."
"So you think someone has figured it out," Kingsley concluded, his expression unusually serious. "How do you defend against an airborne potion when you don't even know it's there? I can think of some temporary measures that could be useful if you knew they were needed, but we can't all just give up breathing permanently as a precaution!"
"I don't know that we need to panic just yet," Severus replied acidly – partially to cover his own concern. "We've only seen one potion used this way – a Confusing Concoction – so it may be that our unknown potion brewer just hit upon an acceptable way to modify it for inhalation simply by trial and error."
"Could any of the students have come up with such a modification?" Dumbledore's voice was very gentle. Severus' lips tightened.
"We can't rule it out," he said shortly, before turning to Kingsley. "Can you get me that scrap of cloth?"
Kingsley sighed, and heaved himself out of his chair. "If it's important," he agreed, "I'll come up with some excuse for getting it out of evidence. I'll be back shortly."
Later that afternoon, Severus stared down at the damning results of his consanguinity test for several minutes before summoning a house-elf to return the student robes he had examined and returning to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore looked up when he entered.
"Well?" the Headmaster asked.
Severus dropped the scrap of cloth on his desk and said one word – "Draco" – in a very tight voice. There was a painful silence until the Headmaster gestured Severus to a chair.
"It was his robe?"
"Goyle's. But he hasn't the brains for the potion work – wouldn't have hit on it even by trial and error – and Draco does. I re-read a portion of his last essay for Advanced Potions – it had already caught my attention this morning and I was taking another look at it when you summoned me – and some of his comments show a little too much knowledge about stability issues. Not to mention my suspicions about Lucius' escape just before the start of term."
The Headmaster turned his head to gaze out over the lake. "How do you want to handle this?" he asked quietly, "keeping in mind that neither of these activities means that he has joined the ranks of Voldemort's supporters."
Am I supposed to be thankful for small favors? Severus wondered bitterly.
"If Lucius were in favor with the Dark Lord at the moment, the situation might be rather different," he pointed out sardonically. "If that changes again and Lucius does come back, he could very well bring Draco with him. Even if the only potion Draco can manage to convert successfully is a Confusing Concoction, it's still fairly impressive – especially at his age. I don't think it will be quite enough, standing alone, for Lucius to use to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces – which is lucky for me. I am still his only real potions expert, but if Draco comes in as a future potion brewer, my position will become much more difficult."
"Draco can't have anywhere near your skill," the Headmaster said confidently, turning back to face him.
"I wasn't looking for a pat on the head," Severus retorted irritably. "I pointed that out because I know how the Dark Lord's mind works. He will see Draco's talent as something to be nurtured – which it should be – in case it becomes useful in the future. But from that moment on, it will tip the scales a little more against me every time he has to decide whether it's worthwhile to keep me around! I've been pretty safe – and therefore pretty free to maneuver above the squabbling in the ranks because they all know he needs me – and that would start to change. At some point, Draco would be good enough that I would become just as disposable as most of his other followers – and then I would no longer be of much use to you or the Order either. Draco doesn't have to be anywhere near as good as I am to be good enough to tip that balance against me."
"Well, we can keep trying to locate Lucius and get him back into custody before he comes up with a way to recover Voldemort's favor, but neither the Order nor the Ministry have had any luck locating him. I don't know how he's managing to stay so perfectly well hidden for this long. I might actually have thought –" Dumbledore broke off and shook his head. "But neither Draco nor Narcissa are that good at charms," he muttered. "Anyway, we're already doing what we can on that front. Is there anything else we can do for Draco?" Severus' lips twisted momentarily.
"I could ask him to assist me in some extra-credit research on inhalation potions," he suggested. "If the Ministry or St. Mungo's were to request my help, perhaps. In addition to letting me keep an eye on him, it would bolster my position as an expert in the field and provide some ammunition if I need to cast doubt on Draco's skill in the future. I would be able to claim any expertise he demonstrated was a result of assisting me in my work." Severus winced inwardly as he made the suggestion. He might be a Slytherin, but he was rather fond of Draco and proud enough of his achievement not to wish to rob him of it. Severus thought his own accomplishments in the field could stand on their own.
Besides, a student's achievements reflected well on his professor.
Just because I don't mollycoddle my students doesn't mean I'm not a good teacher. The wolf had been out of the classroom for more than three years, and his name still came up at times as an instructor of unusual skill.
I've been here more than a decade now – closer to two – and you'd think they'd realize what I've achieved just by looking at the N.E.W.T. results, he mused with some irritation.
"Very well," the Headmaster was saying. "I think, however, that now that the Ministry has discovered the robe, I will need to try to locate the stolen firewhiskey in the castle if it is not returned voluntarily. I'll make an announcement at supper tonight for a search tomorrow evening."
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The firewhiskey had been returned anonymously – well, all but two bottles had been returned, and the coins accompanying the liquor were more than ample to cover the price of the missing bottles – so that problem was averted. Draco had been properly appreciative of the honor of assisting the Potions master – and Head of Slytherin House – in a special research project at the Ministry's request. He had been even more appreciative when Severus repeatedly refused requests from the Granger girl for an extra-credit research project of her own. The new research team had managed a decent start on the project before the start of the winter holiday had arrived – yesterday had been the last day of classes – and Severus felt he had earned the very pleasurable evening he was spending with Emmeline at Grimmauld Place. Since the news of the project had been published in the Daily Prophet and Dumbledore had not asked him to conceal it, he felt it was reasonable to share some of the basic information with Emmeline.
"Just to explore the possibilities of converting potions for inhalation," he explained simply, admitting inwardly that he was bragging a little. "It's been tried from time to time over the years, but no one has had much luck with it. The Ministry has asked me to take another look at it."
Emmeline cast a quick, oddly nervous glance at the perfume flagon sitting on her dressing table, then caught herself and smiled sweetly at him. "Well, no one has ever asked you to work on it, or I'm sure that particular potions problem would have been solved a long time ago," Emmeline cooed, running her hand up his chest. "So tell me, how is the search for Lucius going? Does the Ministry have any new leads?"
But Severus' mind had made a troubling connection.
Dumbledore had told him not to tell Emmeline that Lucius had escaped.
He, Dumbledore, and Minerva were the only ones who even knew where Emmeline was. Severus hadn't told her about Lucius. Unless Dumbledore or Minerva had –
How had Emmeline known that Lucius was free?
His body made the shocking transition from being pleasantly satiated to painfully alert in the space of a heartbeat. Every sense was amplified, every nerve on edge. He reached over lazily to pick up his wand off the nightstand, and as his hand closed around it he allowed his eyes to meet Emmeline's deeply blue ones.
"Legilimens," he whispered, and saw her eyes widen.
Emmeline was watching Lucius – asleep in the same bed in almost the same position Severus Snape now occupied – and her face was transformed as she watched him with the fanatical adoration of mindless worship.
"Do I really have to?" she asked, not really arguing.
"It won't be for long, Lina," Lucius assured her. "Just long enough to get something we can use. It's the only way back, but I have complete confidence in your ability to get what we need from him. After all, who could resist you?"
"But he's so –" she made a face, and Lucius laughed.
"Needs must, little Lina. And he does have brains," he warned her. "Don't underestimate him."
"He isn't you," she objected.
Lucius gave her a lazy smile that didn't reach his eyes. He slid a hand around her and cupped her against him. Emmeline trembled.
"You can't expect to have everything, now, can you?" Lucius told her wickedly.
"All I want is you."
"And you'll have me. You just need to have him for a while too."
"Promise me," Emmeline begged, and Lucius lifted a single perfectly arched brow in inquiry. "Every time I have him I can have you."
"I suppose it would be one way of ensuring you're properly – enthusiastic," he mused idly.
"Twice!" she bargained.
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Lucius said indulgently, his eyes flickering across her form in appraisal. "Trust me, Lina, you've nothing to worry about. When have I ever failed to take advantage of an opportunity?"
Severus, sick inside, saw Emmeline as though he were seeing a stranger – a beautiful, but vapid woman of no character – and everything was finally apparent in her face. All the focus on outward appearance – staying beautiful for the golden god she served.
Mindless books and worrying about her hair.
The artistically arranged scenes and artificial tears.
How could I possibly have fallen for this?
Then, after the eternity of another heartbeat –
Am I really that shallow?
Emmeline was beginning to recover from his invasion of her mind. She was pulling away from him, scrambling across the enormous bed toward her own wand on the opposite nightstand.
Emmeline used to be an Obliviator.
He knew what she was planning as surely as if she had announced her intentions out loud. But Severus' wand was already in his hand, and he knew what he had to do.
"Obliviate!"
Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and Severus quickly returned his wand to the nightstand.
"So that's everything I know about progress on the potions front," he said conversationally. "Although I can't imagine why you wanted to hear it." The teasing tone in his voice came with an effort. He wanted to storm – or run – out of there and never come back. But he couldn't. He had to get through this night without letting Emmeline realize that he knew the truth. "I told you you'd be bored out of your mind with all the technical details, and from that glazed look in your eyes, I can see that I was right!"
Emmeline blinked a few times, and he watched her recover the mask she wore when she was with him. "Why, Severus, you know I just adore listening to you talk about your work," she cooed. "It's absolutely fascinating!" She was slithering back across the bed toward him, and he realized what she intended.
Oh, god, I can't I can't I CAN'T! One part of his mind screamed out in protest. The thought of her touching him now, knowing that she was really –
You have to, the last fragment of rationality warned him. She must not realize that you know.
So as Emmeline began to touch him with her treacherous hands, he pasted a smile on his face and prayed for strength.