"Here," Severus offered a steaming mug of the thick, spiced Arabic coffee to Sabine. He poured a mug for himself, adding the cardamom and splashing in a hint of brandy, the fumes from the liquor rising in curling wisps of steam over the mug. He took a seat in one of the leather armchairs before the hearth in his study, sighing. "We have much to discuss."
Sabine inhaled the rich scent of her coffee, touching the warm mug to her lip in that inane manner he'd seen before. She offered him an attentive look that asked, Such as?
"Well, I must explain to you what you will be expected to know at the meeting, and how we should appear…" He paused, retrieving a small package from his robes. "That reminds me."
He extracted the rings, slipped one of the bands onto the appropriate finger on his own left hand, and held the others out in his right, his long fingers uncurling to reveal the matching pair, stone and band, nestled in his palm. The map of lines etched across his pale skin were interrupted by a faint, round burn scar just off center. A callous at the base of his thumb belied frequent use of quill and tool; and a thin, pearly, vertical scar traveled from the base of his hand up his wrist, over the translucent tracery of veins till it disappeared beneath the sleeve of his robes. They were intelligent, precise hands, almost feminine in their elegant delicacy, though the developed musculature warned of an iron grip.
He twisted his wrist slightly, making the rings clink together to attract Sabine's attention, who seemed to have become lost in her coffee. "My darling wife," He purred in a tone mocking but not unkind, "Will you accept these small gifts as a token of my appreciation?"
Sabine's expertly raised eyebrow betrayed a not-so-secret desire, at first, to know exactly what it was that Severus wanted to discuss. This was momentarily forgotten when she treated herself to a taste of this new coffee. "Mmm. Quite rich, perhaps a bit too much so for my taste."
On that muttered note, Sabine's attention was caught once more by Severus' gesture, and she leaned her elbows on his desk eagerly to critique -not admire, she told herself- the trinkets he had chosen for her. Despite herself, she felt a certain inexplicable pride well up in her chest and throat as she gazed at the silver circles.
"I asked for only one." This was the attempted protest, but the words came out so gently that they could almost be disregarded entirely.
Severus smiled at her apparent approval, feeling an unexpected swell of pride. He'd been keen to choose a set that neither Sabine nor himself would be ashamed to wear, but the best he could have hoped for was calm acceptance. The quiet timbre of her voice as she expected the objects - with a halfhearted protest, of course - made the well-hidden part of him that craved approval stir, and he could hear its contented purr in the back of his mind. He clamped down mentally on the feeling of self-importance and clasped his hands again, sitting back in his chair as the momentary expression of pride flickered across his features and was gone.
"I assumed that the pair would be more appropriate." He replied. "I take it you approve?" It was not really a question. "Good. I confess, I am pleased." He spread his hands and offered an almost shy half-smile. "I only ask that you accept them as gifts, since I will not tell you the cost, and any attempt to return them or a monetary equivalent will be met with hostility." He raised a brow, underscoring his point.
Tapping his own with a fingertip, he explained, "I bought these in Diagon Alley, away from the prying eyes of students..." A queer expression passed over his angular features, and he finished the sentence by commenting, "Damn."
Sabine nodded, too preoccupied with the bobbles (and good God, how she would despise herself for that streak of materialism later) to bother with the immediate past just now. Carefully removing the bands from Severus' well-worked hands with her own careworn ones, she carefully slid first the simple band onto her left finger, followed by the one inset with stone.
"You see, the wedding ring goes closest to your heart," her mother had patiently explained to her once upon a time.
"Damn."
"What?" Sabine looked up in alarm at this intrusion on her quasi-fantasy.
Waving his hand in an irritated gesture at his own lack of forethought, Severus repeated the phrase again. "The prying eyes of students." He said, as if it was supposed to mean something on its own. Seeing that it apparently did not, he continued. "These Slytherin students see us every day - your friend Mr. Nott, for example. If their parents ask of our appearance and the students reply that we appear as nothing more than colleagues, the Dark Lord and his servants will guess that something is remiss."
"Oh, my." Sabine sighed, pressing her newly adorned hand to her cheek in thought, momentarily losing herself in the feeling of the smooth, warm metal.
"We will have to, naturally, come up with a bit of what they call back-story. How to make this tale believable?" Now, here was Sabine's area of expertise. Who could weave a story better than she, after all, who indulged in literature so frequently that her life was not much more than a series of chapters itself?
Severus contemplated for a moment or two, looking decidedly ruffled, then replied, his usually smooth voice slightly awkward. "I suppose we could... something at dinner, or between classes..." He rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. "Students are expert gossips. I suggest only that we give them something to gossip about."
But, it was too late for that now. Sabine had picked up her coffee, and drained faithfully almost the entire cup in the few minutes she had thought. "It has been," she said slowly, placing the mug at such an angle that suggested she wanted to be offered more, "a very private engagement. We have corresponded over the past few years, and you, struck by my..." -disdainful pause and unwomanly sneer- "reasonable charm and beauty asked me to take the coveted position of your ardent advocate. A bit of a beginning for you, really. I'm sure such ambitious men would be terribly impressed."
Severus smirked, pleased at her rescue from grave awkwardness and almost certain discomfort. He rose to refill his own coffee cup, setting the mug on the mantle and executing an elaborate bow. "Your charm, madam, is surpassed only by your exceeding cleverness. I surrender to your obvious intellect."
He reached for Sabine's mug and refilled it first, handing it back to her with a flourish of his free hand. "Your reward for such quick thinking." He stated, his black eyes still laughing.
Sabine chuckled- it was more of a giggle, but damned if she would say so- and accepted the mug. "Thank you, Severus. You're very kind to me, as always.
"I do flatter myself, though. What better purpose for you to take a wife than to have her as the first of Severus Snape's own dominion? Others would slowly but surely follow, and with popularity comes sway, and with sway, power. And you're to keep yourself indistinct. Who could blame you for keeping such a move secret?"
Severus shrugged, offering a look that said, Who knows? and sipping his drink. He made a mental note to leave off the brandy henceforth, because the heat of the rich coffee combined with the illusion of heat that brandy was infamous for was making him very warm indeed.
He cleared his throat and gestured at the mug cradled in Sabine's hands. "You've grown used to it, then, or are you just humoring me?" He paused a moment, realizing the ambiguous and rather thought-provoking nature of the statement, and clarified. "The coffee, that is."
"You might say I've taken to it. After the first initial taste, it seems almost comforting. I wouldn't have it on a regular basis, though." Sabine took a moment to savor the scent of the drink before sampling it again. "As for you being kind to me, I may grow used to it if you aren't careful. I'm one to bristle back when unpleasantly surprised."
Sabine set her mug down and waves her hand, as if shooing the topic away. "We're falling off-course. About our appearance before your fellow minions."
Severus barely caught his wince at the term "fellow minions," but shook it off and continued. "Yes... I believe that the information we've exchanged regarding family history will be sufficient, and as personal habits are not a topic typically up for discussion at the Dark Lord's gatherings..."
He paused and blinked away the bizarre image of Lucius Malfoy explaining to his fellow Death Eaters how best to please their trophy wives, followed immediately by a more vivid vision of Sabine appearing behind the elder Malfoy and injuring him grievously. "I digress." He commented, though verbally he really had not.
"Women are mainly silent during meetings, except for the insufferable Bellatrix Lestrange, who seems incapable of keeping her mouth shut at any cost." He sneered. "This will actually be an asset, though I apologize in advance for the obviously misogynistic experience you shall endure. Silence will give you more opportunity to observe than is usually granted me, and this is an exceptionally important meeting, in which eyes and ears must be free of distraction."
He trailed off, as there was really nothing more to say, and examined the woman opposite him critically. "You wouldn't by chance happen to own any hooded black robes?"
"Sure," Sabine replied, giving an amused smirk at Snape's 'digression'. The smile slid off of her face as she listened, though, nodding her consent to the expectation that she was to remain primarily without words. Silence she could do.
The question, however, was mildly unexpected, and Sabine blinked before responding. "I own two sets. Standard dress code, I presume?"
Severus nodded absently. "Yes... The Dark Lord apparently wishes us all to retain the element of enigmatic foreboding that is his trademark, hence, the hoods."
"You will, then, have to visit me one night very soon to inspect the articles. I would like to make sure that they're in an appropriately uniform style, of course- American cuts seem so different from what I've seen here," Sabine stated, thinking about her high hemline and the tight bells of her sleeves.
Severus considered this, and smiled wryly. "Ah, yes, I had not considered that. There is a chance that we will have to purchase new ones; I would not wish my reputation as a dutiful husband to be tarnished for failure to keep my bride's wardrobe up to date." He gestured vaguely and added, "That is to say, in this part of the world. Your American styles are rather different," He agreed, and ignored the comment his mental voice made about high hemlines. "You know, despite the accent, I often forget that you are not a native. You seem to fit in very well with your surroundings."
He hesitated, as the silver pocket watch again made its appearance, and he frowned slightly, studying its aged ivory face. "I do not wish to impose, but I fear that it may prove necessary to secure these robes as soon as possible... Might I see your selections tonight?"
Nodding her agreement, Sabine frowned as her mind shifted briefly to the collection of bodices that Tarla kept in her trunk to wear over her robes. It wasn't as though she needed such tools, in the first place- and this was thought with a brief streak of jealousy which Sabine loathed. "Thank you- that is, I believe I will take that as a compliment. Reluctant as I was to come in the first place, I find Britain more and more appealing."
That said, Sabine took it upon herself to lean forward and glance at the time, at the same moment admiring the make of the watch. It was an elegant piece, to be sure, and she would have to milk its story from Severus eventually. "Certainly. In fact, you may see them now if you wish."
Severus waited until Sabine was finished with her examination of his pocket watch, then returned it to its proper place and rose. "That would be excellent, thank you." He debated with himself for a very brief moment on whether to take the road of the social dandy or the road of the impolite brute, and decided to settle somewhere in between. He stretched out his hand, offering assistance to Sabine as she rose from the enveloping armchair, but nothing more.