One thing Severus Snape despised above all things was being kept waiting.
A house elf led him inside the villa, with rooms whose wide, tall windows were covered with thick drapes. All the lights in the room came from a multitude of candles, and even at that, the room was cast in an array of shadows.
There, inside a well-decorated, plush sitting room, he waited.
A subtle cough made him turn his head. She stood as a statue on the last step of the winding staircase, her thick black hair pulled up into a knot. Her black robes fit the air of mourning that encased the home, the very grounds of the vineyards. He rose from the chair, taking a step to meet her, her name on his lips.
That's when he noticed. It wasn't jasmine hanging on the air between them. It was sandalwood.
"Signora." His head inclined slightly, in a show of reverence.
The woman's lips turned into a sad smile. "My sons were wagering on whether or not you'd be able to tell the difference. The twins said you wouldn't. Julius, on the other hand, never wavered in his particular conviction." Her soft footsteps drew her closer to the man who intruded upon her solitude. "You must be Professor Snape. Claudius mentioned you a few times over Christmas."
He hid his displeasure at that comment well. "Don't feel you need to tell me he spoke well of me, Signora. I know better."
The woman shook her head once. "Adriana. Please. I have so few visitors anymore. I miss the sound of my own name."
Her quiet dignity echoed that of her daughter's. "As you wish, Adriana." His eyes swept the staircase behind her. "I don't wish to sound rude, but I had rather hoped to speak to Selene. She was who I asked for."
Adriana sank into the couch, gesturing him to return to his seat, as an elf served them both tea. "And if I could help you with that, Professor, I would. However, my daughter is truly her father's child. She isn't here."
His eyebrows shot up. "Not here? But…"
Adriana held up her hand, silencing him. "She left sometime before dawn. Durmstrang was looking for a new professor in her field. She took the position, without consulting any of us. Not that she would have. Selene has always followed her own path, never asking permission or council."
His stomach twisted with guilt and self-loathing. The expression must have translated into his facial features, for the woman before him, who appeared to have not aged in over thirty years, leaned forward, setting down the teacup in her hands. "I have the impression, Professor, that you are a rare person indeed. One who values a blunt word over one couched in metaphors and flowery poetry. Am I right?"
Severus nodded.
She continued. "Then allow me to be overly blunt now. My daughter ran from you. The minute she realized you'd seek her out here, she ran. Selene does that. She has spent half her lifetime keeping people out. For her, it's a defense mechanism." Adriana waved her hand around, taking in the room around them. "I've had no choice but to accept my fate. This life. I haven't seen the sun since before Selene was born. I haven't left the grounds of this estate in all that time. Look all you like. There are no mirrors here, except in my sons' rooms. I've resigned myself to this existence, Professor Snape. Selene, on the other hand, fights it tooth and nail. She lives in limbo, not quite one and not quite the other. She doesn't feel as if she can let anyone into her world, to see the true her. Twice, now, she's slipped. The first time, I held her as she cried her broken heart out." With a sheepish look, Adriana dropped her eyes. "Too many years have passed for Selene to let me hold her this time."
The guilt grew inside him, chilling him inside and out. "I never meant…"
"I know that. If Selene hadn't let herself become so overwhelmed, she would have as well." Adriana stared straight into his black eyes. "If she didn't let herself become so twisted by Claudius' death, she would have known. I could feel it from upstairs. You carry guilt, Professor. Not blame."
The comment stunned him into silence.
"Selene and Claudius rarely saw eye to eye her entire life. He would hide her textbooks, she would jinx him. It went on and on for years. And although my son was a complete idiot, a misguided fool, he did what he did out of love, for her as well as for me." Adriana's eyes misted over with tears. "And everything Selene ever did, she did out of a need to find herself. Studying with muggles, teaching, her research. She kept seeking herself everywhere. And, for a moment, I truly thought she had found herself."
Adriana rose from the couch, her arms wrapping around herself, walking over to the fireplace for warmth. "Selene came to visit me, shortly after she recovered from the incident this winter. She told me about you then. And while she didn't say everything," her pointed look held a hint of amusement as she turned to stare at him, "she didn't need to. I honestly thought she'd found the contentment she sought. When she said your name, she was more alive than I'd ever seen her, moroii or not."
Severus had the good manners to look uncomfortable.
She continued, as if speaking the thoughts she had wanted to share with her daughter with this man instead would help balance the pain in her heart. "Don't mistake me, Professor. I didn't say love. Selene wasn't ready for that. After all these years, I wonder if she ever will be. Claudius filled her with poison, making her believe her father didn't love her, love us anymore. I never could tell my children that I sent my love away, so I would never harm him. All Selene has known from humans is doubt, pain, and heartbreak. With you, at least, she found solace. Someone else who understood those feelings, who carried them much as she does. I dare say, if my daughter were capable of love, she would have loved you dearly."
He swallowed, the teacup shaking on its saucer. The implications of the words spoken in such a lilting accent, stronger than Selene's, but with the same inflections, cut him deeply. Could have. Would have. Clearly did not.
Then again, you never told her you loved her.
But I didn't know if I did or not.
Did you?
He had no answer.
Adriana Sinistra gifted him with a wry turn of her lips, so similar to Selene's when she was drawing out a witty, dry remark. Softly and with a grace that outshone her daughter, she stooped down, taking a calloused hand into her own. "You care for my daughter, Severus. That was clear even to Claudius. But no, you didn't love her. You tried. I see that in your eyes. But you didn't love Selene. Not in the way you wished. And you couldn't have. Too many differences in your life and hers. Too many paths diverging for you both. You live in a dungeon without light, and my daughter lives for the stars. You rise at dawn when she seeks her slumber. You live on the other side of midnight. The one that people like Selene and I cannot join. You helped her forget so many pains, and at the same time you reminded her of everything she can't ever possess. It would have happened, someday. A comment. A look. You wanting to take a holiday in Greece. Whatever would have happened, the point is, it would have happened. Claudius' death only quickened it. End of story. You tried, Severus, and for a time you gave my daughter back her humanity. That is, by far, the greatest gift any of her lovers have ever bestowed upon her. And for that, I do truly thank you."
Footsteps in the hallway drew her up, and a pair of identical men, with Adriana's dark hair and the hazel eyes that he'd seen before, in another angry older Sinistra brother. Adriana smiled. "I am well aware of the time, my sons." Turning back to Severus, she explained. "Unlike my daughter, my nourishment is necessary more frequently. And I doubt you care to watch." As she took the first stair, she stopped, reflecting one last time. "Think on what I have said, Professor. And do keep it in your heart."
With that parting comment, the enigmatic, philosophic woman glided away, ascending the staircase once more, both young men following her, eyes narrowed in loathing at the man in their sitting room.
Severus rose, setting the teacup down.
"If you don't mind, I'd care for a word."
The masculine voice sounded like a darker, richer version of Selene's. Turning, he found a man the exact opposite of the twins. Selene's deep brown eyes stared back at him, but he possessed the sandy colored hair of his older brother.
This was the favored brother. The one Selene talked about the most. When she did speak of family, which was rare. The one she always had felt closest to.
The one who might tell him what he needed to hear.
Julius took in the defensive posturing, the stiffness of his carriage, and almost laughed. Lene had been right. He was overly-protective of himself. He would have to tread carefully. "Don't worry about the twins. They're just protective of our mother, especially after we learned of Claudius' death. Your ministry has been here several times, interrogating us. You can imagine what that did to our sister. After all, Lene told me quite a bit about you the night she arrived. And how close you both had grown." His eyes said far more than his words had.
"Le-nay?" That was one nickname he'd never heard her mention. Then again, Severus remembered, she rarely spoke about family after the evening with Claudius in his home.
"It was my nickname for her when I was younger. I lost several teeth right around the time she was born, and couldn't pronounce my S's. A lifetime ago, it seems."
"How interesting. However, I doubt entirely that you stopped me just to tell me that little piece of news."
"I didn't." Julius stared at him for a minute, measuring him. "She knew you'd come. Last night, she told me she knew somehow that you'd finally make the choice."
Severus swallowed. "I didn't know until last night that she'd left the school. This was the first place I thought of…"
He nodded. "I told her that would be the truth of the matter. After everything she told me…"
"With all due respect, I don't know if I really want to know what she said."
"You might."
"I doubt it. Your sister and I didn't part on the best of terms."
"I'm well aware of that fact. She talked to me for hours about that. And given the situation, I don't necessarily think it was for the worst." He took a deep breath. "I loved my brother, but Claudius was an idiot for his beliefs. He drowned in his self-imposed expectations. He's the only one of all of us who remember Mama's transformation, Selene's birth, our father's departure. He was old enough to assume responsibility for her safety. And Selene never stopped chafing under that pressure. But despite the pressure, they did love each other. And the shock of feeling him…" Julius swallowed hard.
Severus nodded. "If I had any clue that would happened…"
"She knows. She really does know. She said so, last night. Said she'd been unfair, that you hadn't deserved her pain. That you deserved to know that much, at least." Julius stared at him carefully, withdrawing out a scrap of parchment.
"You're taking the coward's way out, Lene."
"So? I'm not ready to tell him. To say I'm sorry…"
"Under the circumstances, I doubt he needs to hear those words, sorellina."
"Don't call me that. Only Claudius called me that."
"Lene, please. You don't want to end it like this. Trust me."
"I can't say it. Not aloud. Not yet."
His voice was almost penitent. "Lene asked me to give you this. When you came."
The letter rested in his hand, cold and ungiving, Selene's graceful hand marking his initials on the front, a seal of grapes under moonlight in red wax on the back. As Severus examined it, his mind turned over the voice, the slight shake as he spoke, the tremor in his hand. As if he feared his reaction.
Or as if he disagreed with the action.
A letter. He bribed Lucius for a week for the Sinistra address. He came to beg her forgiveness. To see her one last time. And all he found himself taking away was a letter.
Didn't I deserve more, Selene?
Julius never had grasped his mother's empathy, nor his sister's. However, he knew well by now the look of pain and bitterness in someone else's eyes. He'd seen it far too many times in Claudius' eyes. And Selene's. And every so often in his mother's.
It shone in a pair of black, chilled eyes.
Any further remarks the man would have made died in his throat. He carried enough hurt with him. He didn't need more. Didn't need to know how, regardless of what this man thought, his little sister blamed herself far more than her lover could blame himself.
Little Lene, if only you could have given him your heart. He might have been the one to piece it together again for you.
Words seemed meaningless anymore. An exchange of pointed looks said it all. It didn't matter anyway. Selene was gone, and all he had left to remind him of her was a piece of paper. A cowardly end to their liaison. It wasn't worthy of her.
Silently, Severus nodded and left, apparating at once to his home. Not the school, but the small, cramped house where he almost never allowed another soul in.
Almost immediately, he regretted it. Every room somehow reminded him of her.
Several weeks had passed since his visit to Italy, and he still hadn't opened the letter. As summer passed, as the sun and moon rose and fell, he debated the decision. It had originally sat on his bedside table, then moved to his pocket, then finally to his cluttered desk downstairs. Every time he thought he could open it, something stopped him.
Now he sat, before the fire, a choice made.
Even though a tear slid down his cheek, he knew he made the right choice. Not just about Selene, but everything at this point. He was sick of sides, sick of choices. He just wanted to pretend the world around him didn't exist.
Forgive me, Selene. I can't give you what I no longer possess.
With one last twinge of regret, he tossed the letter into the fireplace, the flames instantly licking at the parchment, the wax on the unbroken seal melting, obscuring the bunch of grapes, the moonlight vanishing into obscurity.
A knock at the door wrenched him from his isolation. With annoyance at whoever the hell could be knocking, he went to answer it. At the sight of white-blonde hair, he realized he'd faintly hoped it would be her. Since it wasn't, he resorted to instinct.
He pulled the mask on yet again, the mask that no longer felt right, relying on reflex to give him a grounding, a set of instant guidelines.
Hate it though he did, this was his side of midnight. Adriana was right – Selene could never live on this side. For a woman who lived and breathed nighttime, he was the one who lived in darkness. Not her.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped into his darkness.
"Narcissa!"