**********
Chapter Nine
**********
The noise of the children's chatter, the other professors' conversations, and the simple noises of a room full of people eating was beginning to take its toll on Sybil Trelawney. Her nerves already stretched tight with the incredible tension of waiting for a reply to her note, were reaching the breaking point. Of course, she had absolutely no way of knowing how long she would have to wait. She had absolutely no clue how these things worked. She may have to wait *days* before her message could be relayed for all she knew. She hoped not. She wasn't sure she could handle the strain.
"If you will excuse me," she said, feigning over-exaggerated tiredness as she rose from the head table, "I must return to my quarters. The noise tonight is clogging my inner eye more than usual. I feel the need for the peace of my inner sanctum." She ignored the snorts and the derisive comments muttered under the breaths of her colleagues. She was long used to them and no longer felt the need to comment back. Today, however, it did serve as one additional irritant she simply did not need.
"Of course, Sybil, we understand completely," Albus Dumbledore replied politely, smiling as always.
Maintaining the character she had worked so hard to create, Sybil slipped away. As she reached the side door, however, she did wonder why Severus was not at dinner. While it was possible that he was dining privately with his mother -- as far as she knew, the woman was still here -- she hoped not. She couldn't help but hope that, instead, her note just might have already reached the ears of its intended target.
Smiling grimly as that thought rose, she quickened her step, wanting to reach her tower, now more than ever. It was entirely possible there was already an owl there waiting. She tried not to get her hopes up too high, but it was difficult. Each step upward felt like a step toward freedom . . . freedom from fear.
Nothing. Everything was as it should be. No owl pecking at the window, or sitting on the ledge rather, since she'd purposely left it open when she'd gone down to dinner.
She paced. She fretted. She even gave herself a tarot reading, trying to figure out whether her proposition had been, or would be, accepted. It was frustratingly inconclusive. She lie down on the bed, and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come, her mind too active to allow her that luxury. Not even sinking herself into her ritual of tea did much to help . . . other than pass the time.
She jumped up, determined to leave. Perhaps some time spent outside, working off her anxiety would help. Quickly changing into more appropriate clothing, Sybil grabbed her cloak and was about to head down when a hoot startled her. She let out short scream, immediately clamping her trembling hand to her mouth. She *had* to calm down.
The owl just watched her disdainfully with it's wide, staring eyes.
She crossed the room on shaky legs that really didn't want to support her, let alone move, and reached out for the note tied to the owl's leg. Absently handing the owl the first treat she could find -- tea cookies -- she opened the scroll as quickly as she could.
One sentence was all that was on the otherwise blank parchment.
Your proposal is acceptable.
A gasp escaped her as profound relief flooded through her body, leaving her weak and unable to stand. Sinking to the floor, the emotional tightrope she'd been walking the entire day rolled out of her in great, wracking sobs. The sounds reverberated off the walls of her tower dominion for what felt, internally, like hours; though, she was reasonably sure she'd managed to get them under control fairly soon.
Tears streaming down her face, Sybil Trelawney was torn between jumping for joy at the news she'd managed to prevent the primary constituent of her vision, and all out terror. She was getting married. She swallowed convulsively. She was going to marry Severus Snape.
"Okay, Sybil Leona Trelawney, you take the bad with the good," she said to the air around her. "At least this time, the good *far* outweighs the bad."
Of course, there was the chance that Severus would still not agree to it, but her optimism about the eventual outcome was such that she didn't give failure another thought. She done far too much of that as it was. As Dumbledore's spy in Voldemort's circle of followers, Severus actually had far less leeway than he would, had he been truly loyal. As it was, he didn't dare object to any . . . 'suggestion' from the Dark Lord too strenuously. It may give rise to suspicions, ones he could effectively counter were he as loyal as he claimed. Those suspicions would, however, uncover his deceptions very quickly. Everyone who knew the truth, knew that.
**
Stumbling back to Hogwarts in the dark, Severus Snape had already run the entire gauntlet of emotions. A measure of fear and uncertainty was something he'd always felt when approaching the Dark Lord -- at least since becoming a spy for Dumbledore. This meeting had far surpassed any that had come before, and he hoped any that would come after.
If he was a suspicious man--
**Oh, wait! I am!**
--he'd be inclined to believe the entire world was suddenly conspiring against him. First his mother decided he needed to get married. Then Sybil came up with that scandalous 'vision' about his marrying a student. Now . . . *NOW* Lord Voldemort had gotten involved in it. Were they all meeting privately somewhere discussing what to do next in their hidden agenda of driving Severus Snape completely around bend?
He snorted. Not even he was quite *that* paranoid. Mad-eye Moody might be, but not him. It was simply a very disturbing chain of events that led him to the corner he was currently boxed into -- one from which there seemed to be no escape.
Lucius had laughed. He was all too well acquainted with Sybil Trelawney, and had found the situation endlessly amusing.
There had been something more . . . secretive than usual to the elder Malfoy tonight, however, and it was something that Severus found highly suspicious. Of course, the fact that the insufferable git had been smirking for most of the evening even *before* Lord Voldemort had made his announcement added to Severus' growing paranoia. He was certain Lucius knew more about *why* Voldemort had made his demand than he let on. Why, was the big question. What did he know? And what, more importantly, did Lord Voldemort stand to gain by this match?
At that point, he'd been more concerned with finding a way out of agreeing to Lord Voldemort's idea. Marriage agreements in the wizarding world were tricky things, once both parties agreed to the match, getting back out of them was damned inconvenient. For one, both parties had to agree. Once in a *very* great while, Severus Snape almost wished he'd been born a muggle. Now was one of those times.
~~~~~~"I can't," were the words that fell out of his mouth as he stared in utter shock at Lord Voldemort. He winced, his eyes closing behind the mask he wore. Around him, silence reigned supreme. No one dared speak -- not even Lucius Malfoy.
When he opened his eyes Lord Voldemort stood before him, wand pointed at his chest. Severus himself was rendered completely speechless, his mouth sucked as dry as if he'd swallowed a plate of unsweetened lemons. He had never, *ever* said those words to Lord Voldemort before -- and for a very good reason -- most people who did, didn't survive the saying of them.
"And why *not*?" his lord demanded.
Desperately stalling for time, Severus dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Lord Voldemort, all the while trying to work enough moisture into his mouth to speak. Of course, actually having something to say would certainly help.
"My mother has invoked the traditional rights of Head of Household," he said, starting with the simple truth. He then began layering his first lie above it. "She has already selected my future wife."
Above him, Lord Voldemort snarled angrily. "Who?" he bit out, between obviously clenched teeth -- though Severus didn't dare look up to confirm that image. His only chance of getting out of here alive was to placate the man that held his life in reptilian hands.
**Who?!**
Severus thought frantically. Who could he name. The only person who came immediately to mind was a certain brown haired student who'd held sway over his thoughts most of the day. Saying *that* name, however, would be the instant death of him. She was the well-known 'mudblood' friend of none other than Harry Potter. Trelawney was the one Lord Voldemort wanted him to marry, which meant that -- even if he'd been so inclined previously -- she was to be avoided at all costs. No one here would believe it if he claimed Minerva. There were others he knew, of course, but each of them would be unavailable or unable to for a variety of reasons.
"She has not seen fit to notify me of that, as of yet," he improvised.
//Call a spade a spade! You're lying through your crooked teeth. He's going to know; you know this, right? These lies aren't pretty little things tied up with elements of truth. These are stinking whoppers on the scale of Lucius' lies of Imperius to the Ministry.//
"In her last missive, just before my arrival here, she had only informed me that she had made a choice."~~~~~
Severus stumbled as he approached the hidden entrance he habitually used, the after-effects of the cruciatus curse making his movements slow and uncoordinated. It had been the longest he'd ever been kept under the curse, and by the end he'd begun to wonder -- with what little thought he could spare to it -- if Lord Voldemort intended to cause his death. In the end, it had been one more clue to add to the growing pile that suggested that Voldemort had stood to gain something rather substantial by the forced marriage -- something his supposed sudden removal from the 'marriage market' had put a kinker in.
Voldemort's parting shot, after his wonderful gift of pain--
//Oh, yes, heavy sarcasm there, Severus.//
--was to offer his most *sincere* congratulations, and suggest, most silkily that he expected to see the banns posted *soon*. He only regretted that due to the . . . tentative nature of Severus' position at Hogwarts that he would be unable to actually attend to witness the binding of one of his most . . . *loyal* servants.
The entire night had been a nightmare from the get go. Heavily laden with innuendo, Severus suspected that if this was not handled with utmost subtlety, his usefulness as a spy would be at an end. Obviously Voldemort was becoming suspicious and tonight's escapade had certainly not helped. He had to speak to the headmaster immediately. He winced at that thought, realizing he had more than one topic he needed to address; though, they were certainly connected. Voldemort's plans, Trelawney's possible -- try probable -- connection to it all, and last but certainly *not* least, he needed a wife, and he needed one immediately.
And no, he never thought he would *ever* think that phrase in any context what-so-ever.
On the other side of the castle, in a set of rooms reserved for guests of the school, Serapha Snape woke screaming. Scrambling out of bed, trembling with urgency, she realized she had a lot of work to do tonight. She had run out of time.
TBC
Kiristeen
Feedback: An inspiration and greatly appreciated.
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com
.
Chapter Nine
**********
The noise of the children's chatter, the other professors' conversations, and the simple noises of a room full of people eating was beginning to take its toll on Sybil Trelawney. Her nerves already stretched tight with the incredible tension of waiting for a reply to her note, were reaching the breaking point. Of course, she had absolutely no way of knowing how long she would have to wait. She had absolutely no clue how these things worked. She may have to wait *days* before her message could be relayed for all she knew. She hoped not. She wasn't sure she could handle the strain.
"If you will excuse me," she said, feigning over-exaggerated tiredness as she rose from the head table, "I must return to my quarters. The noise tonight is clogging my inner eye more than usual. I feel the need for the peace of my inner sanctum." She ignored the snorts and the derisive comments muttered under the breaths of her colleagues. She was long used to them and no longer felt the need to comment back. Today, however, it did serve as one additional irritant she simply did not need.
"Of course, Sybil, we understand completely," Albus Dumbledore replied politely, smiling as always.
Maintaining the character she had worked so hard to create, Sybil slipped away. As she reached the side door, however, she did wonder why Severus was not at dinner. While it was possible that he was dining privately with his mother -- as far as she knew, the woman was still here -- she hoped not. She couldn't help but hope that, instead, her note just might have already reached the ears of its intended target.
Smiling grimly as that thought rose, she quickened her step, wanting to reach her tower, now more than ever. It was entirely possible there was already an owl there waiting. She tried not to get her hopes up too high, but it was difficult. Each step upward felt like a step toward freedom . . . freedom from fear.
Nothing. Everything was as it should be. No owl pecking at the window, or sitting on the ledge rather, since she'd purposely left it open when she'd gone down to dinner.
She paced. She fretted. She even gave herself a tarot reading, trying to figure out whether her proposition had been, or would be, accepted. It was frustratingly inconclusive. She lie down on the bed, and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come, her mind too active to allow her that luxury. Not even sinking herself into her ritual of tea did much to help . . . other than pass the time.
She jumped up, determined to leave. Perhaps some time spent outside, working off her anxiety would help. Quickly changing into more appropriate clothing, Sybil grabbed her cloak and was about to head down when a hoot startled her. She let out short scream, immediately clamping her trembling hand to her mouth. She *had* to calm down.
The owl just watched her disdainfully with it's wide, staring eyes.
She crossed the room on shaky legs that really didn't want to support her, let alone move, and reached out for the note tied to the owl's leg. Absently handing the owl the first treat she could find -- tea cookies -- she opened the scroll as quickly as she could.
One sentence was all that was on the otherwise blank parchment.
Your proposal is acceptable.
A gasp escaped her as profound relief flooded through her body, leaving her weak and unable to stand. Sinking to the floor, the emotional tightrope she'd been walking the entire day rolled out of her in great, wracking sobs. The sounds reverberated off the walls of her tower dominion for what felt, internally, like hours; though, she was reasonably sure she'd managed to get them under control fairly soon.
Tears streaming down her face, Sybil Trelawney was torn between jumping for joy at the news she'd managed to prevent the primary constituent of her vision, and all out terror. She was getting married. She swallowed convulsively. She was going to marry Severus Snape.
"Okay, Sybil Leona Trelawney, you take the bad with the good," she said to the air around her. "At least this time, the good *far* outweighs the bad."
Of course, there was the chance that Severus would still not agree to it, but her optimism about the eventual outcome was such that she didn't give failure another thought. She done far too much of that as it was. As Dumbledore's spy in Voldemort's circle of followers, Severus actually had far less leeway than he would, had he been truly loyal. As it was, he didn't dare object to any . . . 'suggestion' from the Dark Lord too strenuously. It may give rise to suspicions, ones he could effectively counter were he as loyal as he claimed. Those suspicions would, however, uncover his deceptions very quickly. Everyone who knew the truth, knew that.
**
Stumbling back to Hogwarts in the dark, Severus Snape had already run the entire gauntlet of emotions. A measure of fear and uncertainty was something he'd always felt when approaching the Dark Lord -- at least since becoming a spy for Dumbledore. This meeting had far surpassed any that had come before, and he hoped any that would come after.
If he was a suspicious man--
**Oh, wait! I am!**
--he'd be inclined to believe the entire world was suddenly conspiring against him. First his mother decided he needed to get married. Then Sybil came up with that scandalous 'vision' about his marrying a student. Now . . . *NOW* Lord Voldemort had gotten involved in it. Were they all meeting privately somewhere discussing what to do next in their hidden agenda of driving Severus Snape completely around bend?
He snorted. Not even he was quite *that* paranoid. Mad-eye Moody might be, but not him. It was simply a very disturbing chain of events that led him to the corner he was currently boxed into -- one from which there seemed to be no escape.
Lucius had laughed. He was all too well acquainted with Sybil Trelawney, and had found the situation endlessly amusing.
There had been something more . . . secretive than usual to the elder Malfoy tonight, however, and it was something that Severus found highly suspicious. Of course, the fact that the insufferable git had been smirking for most of the evening even *before* Lord Voldemort had made his announcement added to Severus' growing paranoia. He was certain Lucius knew more about *why* Voldemort had made his demand than he let on. Why, was the big question. What did he know? And what, more importantly, did Lord Voldemort stand to gain by this match?
At that point, he'd been more concerned with finding a way out of agreeing to Lord Voldemort's idea. Marriage agreements in the wizarding world were tricky things, once both parties agreed to the match, getting back out of them was damned inconvenient. For one, both parties had to agree. Once in a *very* great while, Severus Snape almost wished he'd been born a muggle. Now was one of those times.
~~~~~~"I can't," were the words that fell out of his mouth as he stared in utter shock at Lord Voldemort. He winced, his eyes closing behind the mask he wore. Around him, silence reigned supreme. No one dared speak -- not even Lucius Malfoy.
When he opened his eyes Lord Voldemort stood before him, wand pointed at his chest. Severus himself was rendered completely speechless, his mouth sucked as dry as if he'd swallowed a plate of unsweetened lemons. He had never, *ever* said those words to Lord Voldemort before -- and for a very good reason -- most people who did, didn't survive the saying of them.
"And why *not*?" his lord demanded.
Desperately stalling for time, Severus dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Lord Voldemort, all the while trying to work enough moisture into his mouth to speak. Of course, actually having something to say would certainly help.
"My mother has invoked the traditional rights of Head of Household," he said, starting with the simple truth. He then began layering his first lie above it. "She has already selected my future wife."
Above him, Lord Voldemort snarled angrily. "Who?" he bit out, between obviously clenched teeth -- though Severus didn't dare look up to confirm that image. His only chance of getting out of here alive was to placate the man that held his life in reptilian hands.
**Who?!**
Severus thought frantically. Who could he name. The only person who came immediately to mind was a certain brown haired student who'd held sway over his thoughts most of the day. Saying *that* name, however, would be the instant death of him. She was the well-known 'mudblood' friend of none other than Harry Potter. Trelawney was the one Lord Voldemort wanted him to marry, which meant that -- even if he'd been so inclined previously -- she was to be avoided at all costs. No one here would believe it if he claimed Minerva. There were others he knew, of course, but each of them would be unavailable or unable to for a variety of reasons.
"She has not seen fit to notify me of that, as of yet," he improvised.
//Call a spade a spade! You're lying through your crooked teeth. He's going to know; you know this, right? These lies aren't pretty little things tied up with elements of truth. These are stinking whoppers on the scale of Lucius' lies of Imperius to the Ministry.//
"In her last missive, just before my arrival here, she had only informed me that she had made a choice."~~~~~
Severus stumbled as he approached the hidden entrance he habitually used, the after-effects of the cruciatus curse making his movements slow and uncoordinated. It had been the longest he'd ever been kept under the curse, and by the end he'd begun to wonder -- with what little thought he could spare to it -- if Lord Voldemort intended to cause his death. In the end, it had been one more clue to add to the growing pile that suggested that Voldemort had stood to gain something rather substantial by the forced marriage -- something his supposed sudden removal from the 'marriage market' had put a kinker in.
Voldemort's parting shot, after his wonderful gift of pain--
//Oh, yes, heavy sarcasm there, Severus.//
--was to offer his most *sincere* congratulations, and suggest, most silkily that he expected to see the banns posted *soon*. He only regretted that due to the . . . tentative nature of Severus' position at Hogwarts that he would be unable to actually attend to witness the binding of one of his most . . . *loyal* servants.
The entire night had been a nightmare from the get go. Heavily laden with innuendo, Severus suspected that if this was not handled with utmost subtlety, his usefulness as a spy would be at an end. Obviously Voldemort was becoming suspicious and tonight's escapade had certainly not helped. He had to speak to the headmaster immediately. He winced at that thought, realizing he had more than one topic he needed to address; though, they were certainly connected. Voldemort's plans, Trelawney's possible -- try probable -- connection to it all, and last but certainly *not* least, he needed a wife, and he needed one immediately.
And no, he never thought he would *ever* think that phrase in any context what-so-ever.
On the other side of the castle, in a set of rooms reserved for guests of the school, Serapha Snape woke screaming. Scrambling out of bed, trembling with urgency, she realized she had a lot of work to do tonight. She had run out of time.
TBC
Kiristeen
Feedback: An inspiration and greatly appreciated.
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com
.
