It was late. Nearly eleven O' clock and most of the headquarters' occupants were tucked securely in bed. Relishing another night, another dream that would take them far, far away from the aching bones of war that had settled around them sometime during the past few years.
Only two of many, were yet awake. These two bodies were not accustomed to routine. Their days were not assorted into perfect geometric squares: breakfast at eight, lunch at noon, dinner at six. No, these two bodies had learned well to adapt their habits at a moments notice. Occupational hazard, as it were, when you lived the lives they had, ever on the brink of war.
They were two, seated around an ancient oak table that had seen many better days. Idly tracing the natural grooves, engrained in the deep oak from age, Lilianna sipped her cooling tea, studying the harsh man seated across her.
He was an intensely passionate man. A man who possessed a subtle grace to his movements despite the abuse his body had been put to. His dark hair had grown several inches since she had first met him, all those months ago now, coming to an end just past his shoulder blades. His eyes were the darkest, deepest brown you had ever seen, holding a lingering coldness that was part and stock of his mask. His face was made entirely of sharp edges and harsh plains, all but for his insanely long eyelashes, and his full, sensuous mouth.
She wondered on him, as she was doing now, so very often. Having finally found a man whose will was as strong as hers, whose past relieved shadows that she herself kept hidden behind a freely given smile. She both admired and despised him these traits in turn.
"I have not yet eaten. Are you hungry?" Her voice was soft, a breeze that could touch only those leaves that were closest, leaving the rest yearning for her caress.
"Famished." He did not remove his eyes from the parchment he was so studiously contemplating.
"hmm," She sighed, lifting gently from the wooden chair and bringing herself to stand before the long wall lined with cupboards. She inspected the contents of each, running over what recipes she knew of that could make do with such a limited supply of ingredients.
"Perhaps a casserole?" She offered.
"Fine."
Lilianna glanced over her shoulder, at the man who had still not removed his eyes from the document he must have read at least twelve times by now. Her eyes danced with secret amusement, as unperturbed by his cool mannerisms as she was his cool response.
They had been doing this often, of late.
Summer had rushed in to replace the dank uncertainty of spring, and without having to distract himself as a professor at Hogwarts, Severus spent most of his days in the melancholy environment that was headquarters.
He figured it just went against industrialism to reside at the school, when he would so often be called to headquarters anyway as the Order meetings increased in frequency and urgency. He was kept busy enough, they all were. Times such as these were not meant for idleness or hesitation.
Lilianna, too, had made her home at headquarters. Though she rather felt it was like living in a graveyard most days; a far too active graveyard, to be sure, but a graveyard nonetheless.
Her grandfather had summoned her months ago. It was time for her to take her proper place, in the home she always should have had, and defend all that was right and good in the world, he had said. She did not protest. She had lived her life following one war ending into another war beginning. It was what she lived for, if indeed she lived for anything at all anymore.
So it was that they found themselves sharing close premises rather consistently. The unique timetables they kept were so at odds with the average witch or wizard that they found themselves alone together quite a bit despite the hectic schedule the Order demanded.
They had shared many nights such as this, lingering about the kitchen, taking their evening meals much later then any of the other members who were currently inhabiting headquarters. Mostly they did not speak unless it was absolutely necessary, or when they did, it was to argue heatedly over dissenting opinions.
Some nights, such as this night, Lilianna would grow bored with the quiet. She would grow frustrated that the man seated next to her, renowned for his intelligence and creativity, could not seem to string two words together in her presence unless it was to issue terse commands or insults.
Such thoughts would chase the link around her mind until she grew weak with frustration, on nights such as this. She carefully extracted the ingredients from the cupboards being sure to make as much noise as possible so as to disturb Severus from his reading; he did not stir. She sliced the vegetables, cut the meats, mixed the sauce, all the while speculating the fragile, not quite relationship, she had with the esteemed potions master.
There would be times, during Order meetings or when just the two of them were taking conference with her grandfather, when Lilianna wanted nothing so much as to spend the rest of her life drowning in Severus' voice, in his thoughts.
He could analyze complicated data in a matter of moments, implicate resolutions to tumultuous situations within seconds of being related the cause of disruption with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He could research to the end of the world and come back with a million new theories and concepts that differentiated greatly from what was before thought to be engraved in stone. Oh, and his hands. He could make marvelous concoctions with those long, slender, masculine hands of his. His skill with potions was unparalleled in all of England and his inventions and discoveries had been much the case of triumph in the past twenty years.
Lilianna could admire the way Severus seemed to command each situation he was placed in. She could understand the reason he kept his emotions under such tight patrol. She could sympathize with the horrors of his past, if only to a third of his experiences. She could even appreciate his dry, sarcastic sense of humor.
What she could not do; was figure the man out. Not for the life of her!
Bringing the pan off the burner, she apportioned the contents onto two separate plates, wondering if she could find the stomach to eat tonight after all.
"Drink?" She offered.
Finally, he glanced up. Ah, dinner was ready. He set the parchments aside, standing to help set the table. He retrieved two goblets from the china chest, and filled them with a soft burgundy liquid. He set them beside the plates that Lilianna had already settled unto the table. When next he turned to gather the flatware, he bumped into a warm body that was hovering behind him.
With a silent gesture, she waved the forks in her hand indicating that she had already completed the chore. Severus nodded. They both took their seats, comfortable in the silence for all that it was not particularly companionable, and started on the warm meal that Lilianna would not be thanked for.
But she was greatly surprised tonight.
"We should leave early evening. Three or four tomorrow." His voice came like thunder, rough as steel and as soft as velvet. He had actually instigated a conversation; a feat so unlikely that it took a minute for Lilianna to deign an appropriate response.
A grin pulled at her lips and was noted by Severus who raised an enquiring eyebrow. She shook her head. "You are referring to the time travel, obviously?"
Instantly his slightly amused expression was replaced with one of irritation. "Obviously."
Lilianna took another forkful of casserole into her mouth, allotting herself the time to think that over. Severus watched her for a moment, as she then raised the goblet to her mouth, wetting her lips with the glistening wine. Then he turned back to his own meal, waiting patiently for her input.
"That should do fine."
Severus nodded his head having not really expected a rebuttal, though with Albus Dumbledore's granddaughter one could never be too sure. It infuriated him that he could not so easily intimidate her as he could most anyone else. It enraged him that she could be so damned…selfless, even for all that she had been through.
Though he supposed selflessness was a trait to be admired in ordinary situations. But she had lived a life as close to his as any. She had repented mistakes she had not even had time to make one hundred times over and still fate held her in expectation to continue sacrificing herself and her needs for the good of others. It was so damned like him! He'd done his share. He'd been playing double roles for years now, denying his own thirsts in anticipation of others'. He'd done his penance, and still the war raged on. He'd retaliated for all his idiotic youth!
He just wanted peace. The fact that he could not come by any was enough to quell any bit of happiness that might come his way. But the fact that Lilianna, half his age, could not claim her own peace actually enraged him!
If he was honest with himself, she reminded him too much of himself. The nightmares in her past were too familiar to him, too similar to his own. Only her innocence was much too pure for all that she was, indeed, no innocent.
If she could not find peace, if she could not soothe the aching, what hope did he have?
He despised her for reminding him of these things. He despised what she stood for in his mind.
But, fuck, was she gorgeous!
Her hair fell nearly to her waist in thick golden spiral curls. She had eyes the color of molten chocolate that could become so expressive when she was not guarding herself. Her skin was the most delicate shade of ivory he'd ever beheld, unblemished for all the scars she must bear. Her body was a field of curves, her breasts full, and her hips round, her legs long and shapely. But gods, the one piece of her he could not stop dreaming of, was her lips. They were so full, so red they practically invited a man's kiss.
Ah, but such thoughts ran away with themselves.
He despised her, loathed her in fact. Or, was that simply himself, reflected back?
"The potion will have to sit for five years, maybe a little longer." His mind flowed easily back to the dire conversation at hand.
"Then we shall set the time accordingly."
Once more she was offered a brisk nod, before Severus pushed himself away from the table and walked out of the room.
He had left her the dishes to clean, yet again. She could not help but think him a chauvinistic bastard at times such as these. Sighing, she figured there was nothing for it. She, too, pushed away from the table, cleaning the mess he had left behind.