Hi All,
Thank you, Guest reviewer, not for the first time, you have made my day. Now I'll have to struggle to keep up to your standard... (rolling back my sleeves), let's try!;D
Darkinfinity, I'm glad you joined the ride!
Still not mine, still gratefully enjoy it.
Chapter 26. Amortentia
Severus hurried out of the castle without a thought. He only let himself sort through his emotions and memories once he started down the hill to the gates.
His feelings were in a rare turmoil. Excitement, giddy relief, hints of happiness and unexpected joy were mixed with the anxiety of meeting the Dark Lord. He should focus before betraying his secrets.
Discipline, focus!
The Dark Lord.
Yes, the thought was grounding. Malevolent, cold red eyes, cruel scrutiny on his brain.
Now he was sufficiently frightened to level his awareness.
No feelings, no joy – that would be ridiculous. He prepared his memories about the gathering forces. He gathered all the angry and discontented thoughts about the Headmaster, Flitwick, the humiliation, the bothersome request of his sixth years which he was afraid would hinder his job in London.
It was time to show he was a good servant. Snape turned his mind into the typical mindscape for a Death Eater, hiding his agreement with Malfoy, his struggles to beat some sense in his Slytherins, and every aspect of any witches – they didn't even worth a thought.
By the time he reached the gates he was confident he had never left the castle for any other reason but to fight, and was eager to end the uncertain times by getting rid of the Nuisance-who-lived. The only thought about Hogwarts remained his displeasure with the Pink Toad for whom he would show his hatred.
However, Apparating to Little Hangleton, and walking into the old manor house didn't go as he imagined, even if he had no delusions about the Dark Lord being displeased. Snape walked into a powerful Impedimenta without a warning as soon as he crossed the threshold, he didn't even had time to take in his surroundings. The force of the curse hammered him into the floor by the wall, and he could already hear the cold voice shouting at him with untamed rage.
"How long have you known about this?!"
Snape's eyes slowly focused on the menacing Dark Lord, displaying his honest incomprehension.
"That boy has just attacked my mind! You are well-versed in mind magic, Severus, YOU HAD TO KNOW about his skills! How long did you know his mind tried to trail me?!"
Understanding began to dawn on him, and Snape closed up his mind with a swift move of erecting all his Occlumency walls only a moment before the Dark Lord's next word.
"Legilimens!"
Snape was the most surprised when the magic bounced off his mind without any effect. He knew that if he raised the Dark Lord's suspicions now, the next two words would end his life. He withheld some of his protection, and opened a small quarter to show Potter's direful brewing, his pranking Goyle in class, throwing fireworks into his cauldron, the hatred in the boy's eyes each time he looked up at the Head Table. All the while he tried to work out what seemingly meaningful memories to show, when suddenly the pressure eased on his mind.
"You must know more than that!" – the Dark Lord shouted. "You must have witnessed the signs! No telepaths form overnight!"
Telepaths – Snape hid his joy behind narrowed eyes as if he tried to remember, and the Dark Lord's touch promptly retuned on his mind.
Snape risked a lot, but he shared parts of a conversation he had about just the exact same topic with Dumbledore after the Dementor-attack.
"This unfortunate incident showed how talented Harry is. He stood his place miraculously, not only saving himself but also his cousin. I talked to his godfather and friends tonight, and while they share my pride for him, they also seem to worry" – he remembered the Headmaster telling him.
It was late night on that summer day.
"Sirius repeatedly told me about Harry's scar."
"Sirius tells me he already has frequent nightmares" – Snape added, borrowing the line from another conversation.
He let the Dark Lord see he could not help but imagine a whiny boy complaining his beast of a godfather about some foolish dreams, and somehow the features of this child resembled more James Potter's than his son's.
"Don't mix him up with his parents, Severus. The child is an orphan, should I remind you? He doesn't have those advantages you so desperately envied from his parents." - Dumbledore did not see Severus biting on his tongue to make himself mutely receive the double blow, for the Headmaster's attention turned away.
All that gave him time to recall other nuances.
An eleven year old Harry Potter already complaining about a headache out in the corridors.
Young Potter absentmindedly pulled his fingers along the front of his head, halting by the scar, scratching it before his palm moved on, in deep thought, during class.
An excited Draco Malfoy telling his peers about Potter fainting on the Hogwarts Express.
Trelawney vax eloquent on the boy's probable psychic abilities to an astonished McGonagall at the Great Table after Potter fainted in her class.
"He has been studying Divination since his third year, my lord" – Snape cautiously added when the pressure eased again on his mind.
"Augurial dreams?" – Voldemort contemplated. "What does the old man make of them? Where would those come from?"
"So it may seem, my lord. Once I heard that Iolantha Potter, a distant ancestor, was remembered having talents in Divination. Maybe –"
"I should not have felt the presence of an oracle, it was a mind that attached to mine when I possessed Nagini!" – the Dark Lord sank deep in thoughts and Snape was glad to only kneel before him with his glance fixed on the floor. "You should look into the Headmaster's cards more deeply, Severus, I don't keep you to suffer such surprises!"
Snape kept his gaze determinedly down.
"I apologize, my lord."
"Useless! You are to search for any psychic abilities more thoroughly!"
"Yes, my lord."
"Crucio!"
He had been almost sure it wouldn't get to this after he managed to direct the Dark Lord's attention. The suddenly flaring pain joined with disappointment. Snape locked his jaw by reflex so he wouldn't bite through his tongue, even if it made it hard to breathe and stifled his screams into feral growls and high-pitched whines.
Time was not something to count while his body convulsed on the floor, but the pain ended suddenly, and he didn't feel completely spent. Carefully, Severus opened an eye and a pair of boots stepped into view – then Lucius crumpled on the floor in the deepest of bows, genuflecting, keeping his head down until his lord called his name.
"You dare to step into my sight after your dreadful advice! YOU DARE TO SHOW YOUR FACE!" – Voldemort seemed above and beyond all his normal rage and fury, and Snape decided not to attempt standing up before he must. "This is the price for your advice, take it!" – with a flick of a wand he sent a flash of purple light through the air, but it hit behind Malfoy.
Snape didn't dare to adjust his position to look, but he imagined it must have been Avery by the door. Oh, sure, the cry of pain was familiar.
"And you? Sharing your good news smugly and suggesting a plan that doesn't work? Severus at least was ready to play his part! Now I have to wait for you imbeciles to gather my prophecy! Do I ask too much?! Answer me, servant!" – a quick swish of the Dark Lord's wand and Malfoy was on his back in a rather undignified position. "IS IT TOO MUCH FOR YOU?!"
"No, my lord!" – Lucius squeaked, probably knowing full well what the next to come was. "I'll do my best to carry out your plan and help Severus kidnap the boy. We will find a way by then– "
"Idiot servant!" – The Dark Lord summarized. "Do you want to lose me without knowing the truth? Would you want me to attack the boy again and risk losing my material form?! CRUCIO!"
Voldemort's wand hovered above his victim longer this time. Severus cautiously maneuvered away, and slowly stood up out of sight, before his friend's uncontrollable limbs could collide with him in their spasms. Eventually the Dark Lord thought he had handed out enough punishment.
"The attack must wait." Voldemort announced. "I won't take such a risk again. I was foolish enough to hurry once. Now I have learned that patience is indeed a virtue. Lord Voldemort takes no hostages. You WILL find out about the Prophecy, Lucius, it was your fault I could not hear it. Then, if you find me in the mood, I might graciously let you help kidnap the boy. Nott!" – he turned away from Malfoy and another comrade ventured into the room, deep in bow even as he stepped in.
It was easy to sense Nott's reluctance to join this crowd.
"You take out this trash here!" – the Dark Lord gestured around. "Severus?"
"Yes, my lord?"
"You know your new tasks, don't disappoint me."
"Yes, my lord." – Snape backed out of the room and watched Nott levitate Avery upstairs, while Malfoy grabbed on the wall with trembling limbs, trying hard not to fall.
They stumbled out of the manor house together, and he had to ask if Lucius felt ready to Apparate. The poor blighter could only shake his head, so Severus reached under his arm and Side-Along Apparated them to the Malfoy house in London. Initially he just wanted to hand Lucius in, and go away to lick his own wounds, but as soon as the elf opened the door, Narcissa flew down the stairs and invited them both in.
"We will live" – Lucius grumbled out, and staggered towards the parlour, contrary to every attempt of his wife to get him upstairs and probably to bed. "You'd better get us a drink in a tall glass."
Severus was ready to leave, but this time Narcissa was very much Cissy. She stopped him before he could either turn away or step towards the parlour, and watched his pale face carefully.
"You too?"
Severus nodded, and astonishingly he received a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. Who thought she would worry? He could only stare.
"Come," – Cissy led him after Lucius, and poured the drinks the way her husband asked.
With a hint of smug satisfaction Severus noticed that his hands trembled less than Lucius's, as the mouthful of Ogden's still needed the additional space the inadequate glasses could offer.
"I've been thinking lately about Slytherin," – Malfoy mused as he tried to consume his drink. "That old slogan you recalled."
"Yes?"
"Slytherin suae servat – it must be just a fragment."
Severus watched him through his bad mood and the haze of the aftereffects from the Dark Lord's curse and didn't feel any inclination to partake in mind-games.
"And?"
"I just found the other half."
Severus snorted in impatience.
"Et nunquam dimittasi" – Lucius looked at him. "Nunquamii" – he repeated on a voice of devastation, but his glance was still challenging, as if he waited his friend to contradict him and argue, to present evidence against doom.
Severus swallowed the rest of his drink and slowly stood up, so as not to lose balance.
"Maybe" – he admitted through gritted teeth. "Nonetheless, I expected a measure of hope through utmost loyalty. Didn't you?"
Lucius closed his eyes and nodded, and Severus left the house before Narcissa could try and interrogate him, or worse, kiss again.
He Apparated unthinkingly, and so deep in his Occlumency, it took all the way uphill to figure the true relevance of the evening. The Dark Lord suspected the connection between his mind and the boy's, and it was foolish to hope he could mislead him longer than a few hours. A day at best. Sometimes omitting the truth couldn't possibly be enough, and if he accomplished anything, he did it through not telling an outward lie, and letting the Dark Lord's imagination fill the holes.
However tired he felt, there was still the unavoidable task of facing the Headmaster. For Merlin's staff, why ever did he not listen when they discussed at the end of the summer that any possible connection between the Dark Lord and the boy could only lead to utter, irredeemable doom?!
Severus cautiously proceeded through the corridors, always keeping a wary eye out for Umbridge, even telling the password to the gargoyle while he was watching his back and spent enough time eavesdropping in front of the Headmaster's door to make sure he heard no croaking before he entered.
Dumbledore accepted his news with remarkable calm.
"Yes, you know that I already had the impression," – he piled his fingers up to form a tent-like structure in front of his face and watched Severus with a little twinkle in his eyes. "You surprise me, my boy, I thought you would be over the Moon learning you need not carry out the attack we so carefully devised! Won't you even ask about Arthur?"
"Of course, sir, this is me rejoicing," – he said on an even tone, not bothering to imitate a smile. "I'm sure I wouldn't find you in such good humor if Weasley had kicked the bucket while I was away on my errands."
"Your presumption doesn't mislead you. Arthur still seems to face some days of hardship, but the last I heard he was in a reasonable state. Molly has already visited, as I hear from Dilys."
Severus nodded impatiently. Even if he was glad that Arthur was relatively safe, he had no time for pleasantries.
"Good. Now, that we have worry for him out of way, would you finally tell, exactly how could you risk admitting Potter into school this year if you knew we can face the Dark Lord through his eyes at any bloody moment?!"
"Severus, please calm down!" – Dumbledore let his hands fall on his desk, and watched him with a slight shake of his head as if he was in some paternal worry about his manners. Severus was close to giving his headmaster a Snape-glare. "I understand your worry, but I already told you in August, it was unnecessary. At least it was that time. I couldn't be sure," – he leaned back in his chair. "Still you will be glad to hear I already took your concerns into account, and avoided every contact with Harry. May he forgive me when we get there!"
"He forgive you?! Sir, you keeping the leader of the Order from such a potential threat was the least you could do. That does not defend the school, his peers, his betters… Hell, you even asked Sage Moody to scan his mind with Legilimency!"
"You seem exceptionally keen on her well-being, Severus, are you sure your cooperation has never been compromised?"
Severus stared at him with honest shock. "No! Whatever would you mean? I am referring to a threat that –"
"There is no such threat. Not yet, if I understood you clearly. You masterfully diverted Tom's attention, I should add, not for the first time" – the glance Dumbledore shot him above his half-moon shaped glasses was one of appreciation that would have felt oddly good in August and Severus perceived as disturbing at the moment. "We have a short time to find a solution, and thankfully, the season is already upon us, so no students need you to be troubled."
Troubled? – Severus stood in the middle of the Headmaster's office with a man he suddenly not even didn't understand, but maybe didn't even know. He tried to glare at him but had a disturbing feeling that he only gawked. It just didn't add up to anything remotely logical! Why? How? How could someone not mind such an influence? How could Dumbledore be so calm?
"Sir, do you know the exact nature of this connection?" – he asked with sudden impulse.
"I have my speculations. I find it way too early to discuss them, but rest assured, Severus, I am planning on filling you in, as soon as the right time comes."
"The right time…" – Severus repeated, trying to find a way to press him but his rational mind was too developed to let him do so. Yes, he knew better than to press any of his masters, but the temptation had rarely been this strong. "And what about the Weasleys? If you have no solution yet, what may befall them if the Dark Lord works this knot out sooner than you foresee?"
"Ah, so you do care about them!"
"Sir, this is a threat, I cannot –"
"You said much enough, Severus, it is late and you seem tired. Let me think your news over, and I will call you when I have a solution. Thank you for your efforts tonight."
Severus swallowed all the litany he had no chance to shower on Dumbledore, and obediently nodded even if he blanched at the sudden dismissal.
"Good night, Headmaster, thank you for your time."
"Good night, Professor Snape!" – he heard when he closed the door.
The bone-chilling politeness of their last words escorted him to his quarters through empty corridors; however, stepping past his office's door a strange warm feeling lightened his mood. Maybe it was due to the late hour, or to the fact he was bone tired, but closing his door and wards, and sinking into his favourite armchair, Severus experienced such uncharacteristic giddiness he caught himself grinning into the night.
Dumbledore was a secretive bastard, but if he learned anything at all in these past years that was he always had a plan. Arthur Weasley survived, the castle was blissfully Potter-free - whatever connection the brat might carry to the devil –, and Severus Snape just won some time to continue his miserable life. He admitted to his shameful selfishness gladly, in exchange to enjoy some rare moments of letting himself loose.
And if all the rational reasons didn't prove enough to allow him relax for a few hours and accept the rare moments of joy in life, there was the fact that he just got back his friend! The feeling was like getting through a tunnel of darkness and looking up the sky for a moment, before heading under the hill once more - surely way too soon. And tomorrow the NEWTs would brew the scent of Lily for him and a beautiful summer day – a prize for all his struggles. Severus closed his eyes and recalled the moment when Sage squeezed his hand lightly in his office, before he fell asleep.
On the last class of the year some of the seventh-years joined the sixth-years' preparations. Somehow Professor Snape forgot to ask for the presence of the Ravenclaws, and somehow his sixth-year NEWTs thought his neglect fair.
When he first overheard the Hufflepuffs talking about it, Severus snorted, but when the experience repeated before class and he heard himself praised for his fairness through the door, he needed some extra seconds to school his features into his usual sneer. Students' opinion changed like the weather and Hedgeflower and Karanasu must be out of their minds to raise such a subject with Carmichael and Belby! More, those idiot boys had forgotten their own House to a point they agreed!
Laughable! Must be the famous Ravenclaw-loyalty… he refrained from snickering and planting a scowl on his face, but his mind had always been keen to catch on the twist. Eff it, fair? Of all things… This was the first time, surely, to hear something like that! Probably the last, too.
Severus had plenty time to muse over the ridiculousness of his Hufflepuffs while the heat under the twelve cauldrons slowly warmed up the classroom. All heads down, deep at work. The scene looked almost like a class worthy of its name. He wondered how many would succeed, but if the latest work of the sixth-years was anything to go by, then he could count on the soothing sensations, the reminder to his better part, the well-deserved reward of feeling her close again.
The first spiralling steam lifted above Jugson's cauldron – of course – within a little less than two hours. Snape stepped closer to inspect the typical mother-of-pearls sheen and was ready to nod his acknowledgement when the scents reached his nostrils.
Something was off. Frowning at Jugson, he quickly turned away. Meanwhile Hedgeflower and Travers also finished their work. The steam was all right again, the contents of their cauldrons the right shade of sheen, but the rest… Severus shook his head and walked to the far end of the classroom, he needed a bit of fresh air before he tried again. Disturbingly, all the three seventh-years followed his every move with questioning eyes, and two more cauldrons seemed ready for his opinion.
Severus suddenly wished his dungeon-classrooms had windows! Just a lungful of fresh air and he could ascertain what had gone wrong. This was impossible! He slowly walked between the worktables and felt almost offended when he counted three more cauldrons emitting that spiralling steam. All the smells were off, and the steam started to fill the classroom.
He decided to check the consistency and look deeply for errors, but within ten minutes he had to accept how unlikely it would be if all of them made the same mistake. Or mistakes with the same effect… He hurried back to the blackboard and read through the instructions he gave, thankful for the opportunity to face away from his students. The instructions were sound. What the hell was going on?!
Snape turned back to the classroom with his robe-ends flying around his legs, the worst overbearing expression of the Snape-persona he actually didn't build from nothing, and he attacked the cauldrons desperately looking for mistakes.
Rain. Bloody freaking rain! Wet earth, blooming herbs – too many to separate the scents – and a lingering after-taste of an old linden on a summer day, dusty and warm, while slow rain drenched the herbs. A garden of herbs. What… What the… Where's Lily? This was not the prize he had promised himself for his struggles this last month!
With labored breathing Severus tried to hide the sudden trembling in his hands. Fires from twelves cauldrons heated the room, but his face felt cold. He wanted to pull his hair, collapse to a corner by the wall or just run as far away as he could, but the only prospect more terrifying than the scents of these cauldrons was to ridicule or betray himself, especially now.
He shut his Occlumency around his mind and hid away in his brain, letting the well-prepared Snape-persona take over, inspect, nod, and dismiss the class.
"Not bad. Hopefully you won't forget everything during the holidays. Evanesco!"
The contents of the cauldrons vanished in a second and the students began to move, talk, wishing Merry Christmas. The scents lingered even after they opened the door. The scent of Sage's mind and an old linden. Where's Lily? Had he lost her? Had he betrayed her? No, no, there was the linden… but he missed the scent of her hair accidentally brushing his face again, like those times they were playing, and she turned too soon or quickly, or when she leaned backwards on the swing he pushed… And feeling the loss wasn't even the worst part….
Yes, he would be fool to deny that Beauxbaton attracted him, but this was not her perfume, not the scent of her hair or her skin, not the taste of her breath on his tongue – oh, he remembered clearly, even recalling any of those had a strong effect on his physic, but that was not what he smelled in the air!
Amortentia never referred to crushes. It smelled like the deepest desire, the truest attraction – entirely too fundamental compared to what he was ready to admit. Severus closed his classroom and fled to his private quarters.
Gods, it would have been much better to have a crush on her!
Wait, did he have a crush on her? Infinitely easier to acknowledge than anything fundamental… Also, she wouldn't be the first one. Although there weren't many he could recall.
Severus quickly took stock of any and every feminine guile he could easily acknowledge that he'd fallen for in the past years. There was Iris, for some time, of course, but that was different. He had never cared about her feelings. What should he call a physical infatuation? Even that he could overcome.
Then there was Rosie… Rosemerta. She had shown him long ago that he wasn't a schoolboy any more, and he'd enjoyed that realization. Actually he'd enjoyed the realization much more than actually spending time with her.
Narcissa - but he had never been overly into her, it was an arrangement of convenience with someone he'd had a sense of strong friendship and mutual respect… nothing more.
And there was that witch in Oxfordshire. He had met her in the summer after his third year of teaching. He had never thought he would ever feel again, but gods, that witch had cleavage! It had stricken him dumb, her lean body sporting the hugest set of boobs he had ever seen. He had never been one for merely the looks – until then and there. Really, to look like that should be considered an insult to intellectuality.
He'd lost all ability to move or speak, and although they had been in some social gathering, he couldn't even recall what kind it could have been. But he knew still for certain that she'd worn green dress-robes, a memory, which remained clear throughout the years. He remembered it had taken him about four days before he'd realized he would never be able to go on without even try to see her – or those boobs – again, before he'd Apparated back to Oxfordshire.
The witch had had a bakery, sweet smell of pastry lingered about her, her smile was wide and honest, and she'd offered breakfast in her shop. He'd made a habit of having breakfast at the small tables she'd set up inside and outside her shop window. After about a week the witch had decided to serve him his pastries instead of giving them out above the counter. She'd put them and his coffee on his small table and her robe's neckline fell when she'd leaned forward to adjust his plate. A sight he would remember for the rest of his life.
Severus never understood why and how, but the next thing he remembered was following her up into her rooms above the bakery, and the rest was history. Drowning between those perfect giant orbs was the best thing to happen after the war. He sometimes even wondered if that was what had given back his sense of actually still breathing. It couldn't take away the pain, the guilt and the remorse, but had somehow prepared him for the next ten years. The whole experience was unbelievable, chasing away the horrors for a short time.
That was also when he learned the power of his new station. The youngest professor at Hogwarts with a Potion Mastery on which the ink had not yet time to dry… as it turned out he'd been considered a catch despite his features. He might had had been in danger, if she hadn't had the unfortunate habit of talking. It wouldn't have been necessarily such a bad thing, but she was the dumbest woman he had ever had the misfortune to meet in his life.
She was benevolent, beautiful, a fine baker – and that was it. Not a single thing in common with him, not even the way he liked his coffee in the morning and tea later. Her opinions were not thought-out at all, her thoughts were shallow, and her ideas dull. It'd taken about six weeks for Severus to realize he should leave posthaste or marry her, and doing the first was so obvious, it was not even a matter of decision.
They parted on friendly terms, and her son was in Hufflepuff now, a second year. Severus was grateful that the boy's eyes were pale blue and hair light chestnut, and he would never admit he was more lenient with him than with others. Even if his pastry was obviously short a major part of his filling.
All right, so there was a crush.
He knew what that felt like, and this was not that. Beauxbaton's physical appearance was more than tempting, but he always wanted her to talk. He wanted her to argue, to joke, to…
Gods, even thinking about her made his breath quicken – is that normal? – even those moments in October, that innocent banter… This was not similar to any other experience.
No, this wasn't a simple crush, but it wasn't like loving Lily either! – he argued still. And it was true, Lily had no faults in his eyes and he could see Beauxbaton's shortcomings, quite clearly actually…
He never even wished to love again. It came with vulnerability and a sense of helplessness he'd never really enjoyed. No, Severus Snape couldn't afford vulnerability. Although no one had judged him when he'd displayed it in Heloise's house. Not even that freaking old elf!
Bloody Flitwick would say he had no idea about love but he knew more about loving than the old half-goblin ever thought. Especially if he thought love was only felt when seen. What bullshit, no wonder such scandals arose in his house! Rambling about first love and how different it was… although Severus couldn't know.
At least he had never thought he was in love ever again. Not after he realized that what he'd felt for Lily was deeper than a teenage romance, not after he knew that his feelings came from the roots of their friendship and he could love her endlessly without even a chance to touch her – however pathetic that sounded at the time. Because it was not about that. Not even if he had some thoughts as a teenage boy, Merlin, who hadn't? Those thoughts were fleeting anyway, unlike their friendship. However–
Severus realized he had begun to think about Sage and Amortentia. So far he had discussed with himself anything and anyone else but her. What was this strange hesitation? Annoyingly, he had no clue, but he was afraid to examine his thoughts about her. Maybe his thoughts he would look at, but feelings?
Even to admit to those feelings for her – which was quite obvious at this point he had, he chastised himself – filled him with sudden trepidation. There was no use to run, he was done with surprises, and he couldn't afford surprises!
Discipline. Focus. So, what did he feel for her?
Attraction came to mind. Not only physical, the potion's aroma didn't point that way either. Attraction to the point of lust, however shameful, but he was attracted to her mind too. Her sense of humour, her wit, her ideas, talent, - he admired her. Even her annoying Hufflepuff tendencies. If he had to place her it would be somewhere between Hufflepuff and Slytherin – Merlin, what a combination! Insane! He had to chuckle even thinking about it.
He had to chuckle thinking about her. She was amusing. She had a way to catch and hold his attention wherever they were, whatever they were doing. He was even aware about her every move when he didn't look at her direction at the Head Table. It was annoying.
Yes, all that. She even sometimes angered him, but he trusted her. He wanted her friendship, but no matter how hard it was to admit that, he wanted more. Frustration. She was frustrating, because she made him wish for things he could never have – but it was not her fault. Everything about her led to a strange surge of excitement and hope that carried a shameful amount of desire.
Do all these things add up to love? Trust, amusement, frustration, admiration, friendship, annoyance, desire – was love constructed by ingredients like a potion? It'd never been a question if he loved Lily. It was as natural as breathing. Unlike now, when nothing felt natural because it was all miraculous, unforeseen, frightening… very frightening.
His breath cut short again, and Severus was suddenly thrilled without apparent reason. Again, was that normal? Only a thought about her, so fleeting, he could hardly remember and suddenly he was electrified!
He was glad about their friendship, but it was not enough – he had to admit at least to himself. If there was anything he could do without consequences, the only impulse was to go to her. Every moment since October. Maybe even before. Merlin! Every free second he had, he only wished to go and see her - ridiculous.
In these last weeks he'd missed her like hell. To see her, to get back on her good side, to hold her hand – his breath cut short again before he could assess his thoughts and feelings. They were all mixed up and muddled, like his brain - it felt a hopeless mush whenever it came to her. No, Sage was inexpressible by thinking, only to indicate by breathing, by – Merlin, this thirst!
Then suddenly he remembered. "So be it. I give you your freedom of your mind, soul and magic, on the one condition that you will love again."
Fuck, was that a curse? Is that the reason why this felt all too powerful, all too –
Severus shook his head. His mind stuck on the Amortentia potion, still trying to rationalize. He knew half a dozen descriptions but all of them emphasised the impossibility of creating love artificially, even with magic. So either he was only obsessed and infatuated, which he doubted, or his feelings didn't come from the Being, which meant he was genuinely in lo-… wait a moment!
It seemed as if a part of him had already decided about the nature of his feelings, and it was harder by the second to contradict himself. Nonetheless he conscientiously tried.
Eventually, Severus squeezed his eyes shut and gave up. He didn't know about the particulars, but he knew he was in love with Sage Moody – head over heels. Fuck, he didn't mean to… and it was terrifying. Because being utterly and completely in love had always meant he was utterly and completely screwed. Mostly because he had not the slightest idea where to go from here.
As thrilling a realisation as it was, his rational mind wished he'd never come to it because now that he knew it, he felt paralyzed by the weight of what he found. The last time he thought of love it had become a short route towards absolute catastrophe.
Lust or an infatuation was manageable, but this? Still, longing proved insufficient to describe his feelings at all. Love, as he knew it, was deep enough as a love of a brother, a pal, a friend, an admirer, and sometimes in the dead of night a wish of a lover.
Sometimes. Which also meant that this wasn't a kind of love he knew. This time there was nothing brotherly in his feelings, probably because he didn't grow up with her. Yes, he wished her well, and did his best to understand her; yes, he even acknowledged she could do better than without a man like him, but–
Gods, he wanted her with a rage he was ashamed of himself, and a part of him couldn't care less if he was good enough until he could get her! If ever–
But it was more than desire, because even with his blood running wild Severus swore not to ruin her. She should remain Beauxbaton. The best pal he probably ever had for a month and a half, the teacher in her that recognised him, the friend in her that took him to Heloise. He could conceal them from both of his masters. He could find a way to provide her support.
May Dumbledore go to hell! Because she deserved it. She deserved her gardens, her library, her cognac that cost an arm and a leg, everything that would divide them even in a world not at the brink of war. She deserved all that and everything more!
He hung his head low. Just a boy from the wrong end of the street, the wrong side of the river. What the hell could I possibly have to do with a witch like her?
Severus sat on the floor by his armchair with his elbows on his knees and his face in his palms without any recollection of when or how he sank there. It didn't matter at all. Whatever he felt or wished for, he couldn't act upon it. He had decided this in that attic, even before he realised what he had to give up, if anything. Nothing changed since he left the witch sitting on the floor after their kiss. Nothing. That was the only sensible thing to do.
Merlin, there was no help. Vowing against falling in love again didn't suffice. He would honour and cherish the memory of one and pine away after the other – pathetic! Ridiculous!
Except in a sense these two exceptional witches somehow were the same. However different they might be, they complemented each other. Lily's purity, vanity, and eternal youth – and Sage's sarcasm, devotion, and cruel realism. Both were against the darkness re-emerged, both needed to win this war for the light.
Beauxbaton – he reminded himself – It's Beauxbaton, not Sage. He would never be able to do this without at least trying to step back. Severus Snape you're a pitiful friend indeed – lying about friendship and falling in love, again.
The hell with it! He couldn't afford to risk her safety over a few beautiful hours and he doubted he could have ever gotten more. Now, probably not even that.
She was a good friend, better than what he had ever had, and surely better than what he deserved – she returned to him, and she'd forgiven. It was more than what he had ever experienced or could have hope for, it should be enough. It has to be enough! – Severus hit his fists on his knees. It has to be!
But it wasn't.
Evening turned into night, and his absence at dinner didn't even cross his mind. The students had surely packed their trunks by now, preparing to travel home the next morning. Sometime before midnight it occurred to him that usually he walked over to the Common Room to say his goodbyes to his Snakes for the holidays, but he couldn't bring himself to regret overlooking it this year. He didn't feel enough spark to stand up from the floor, even less to move and talk to students… He just sat, stared into the night, hugged his knees and tried to think - but nothing came to mind.
Then the bloody sun rose again without asking his opinion, the house elf popped up and acted as if nothing had changed in the world, and the corridors were exceptionally noisy with the students' hustling. Then the carriages left. Severus went through the day, following routine like a thread that pulled him through the motions of showing his presence. By dinner most of the teachers had left the castle too.
He walked up to the Great Hall driven by an empty sense of duty, mobilizing his decades-long practice and experience in dealing with self-denial and frustration. If there was something he managed to decide in this passing day, it was three small things.
First of all, a resolve, to carry on and fulfill his promises, because there was nothing else that could give the sense of freedom he craved.
Secondly, there was no chance to even approach a witch like her without at least a measure of freedom, especially if he didn't have anything else to offer in the world. Until that, his feelings only made them both more vulnerable, and he would not risk her vulnerability – and hated his.
Finally, he had to find a way to climb out of this pit of self-pity before it collapsed on him.
The Great Hall was blissfully empty, only some lowlifes lingered by the students' tables, like he used to. Dumbledore invited them to the Head Table – of course, as always – and they were as efficient in putting a halt to any kind of sensible conversation as the toad was before she left for the holidays. The best Christmas-gift she could possibly give to the school, by the way – at least Minerva encouraged Sybil with these celebratory words. Beside those two sat the Headmaster and Sinistra, Severus gladly found even the teachers took their leave this year.
Dumbledore invited them as Head of Houses for a drink to his office after dinner, and this time Severus gave no mind to his purpose. His mind was calm and Occluded, but his heart was heavy and his mood pitch-black, thus hearing Minerva's question as they ascended the stairs hit him by rare surprise.
"Now, that we're temporarily rid of the devil, I have to ask, Severus, how much Veritaserum did you give her exactly?"
"Were there complications? I haven't heard of any mishaps, but–"
"Oh, nothing like that!" – Minerva put an effort to sound nonchalant, which was more than suspicious, and Severus' eyes narrowed on her. "I'm merely curious about the correct amount."
"Curious" – He repeated. "Should I give you in ounce, or drops? By serum or by phial?"
"Oh, that complicates the whole issue…" – Minerva sighed. "Albus, what do you suggest?"
The Headmaster laughed.
"I suggest you ask for the number of phials, Minerva. We all took our bets on the number, after all!"
"But what we meant was about the measure of serum, the phials were only to count, I–"
"By the exact wording of your wager, Minerva, it was about the phials, not the phials' amount of serum. I must insist on your wording."
The stone gargoyle jumped aside and the rotating stairs moved them to the office door while McGonagall huffed and snorted her displeasure.
"Of course, you do, you said the highest number!" – she sighed as the office door closed behind them. "All right then, I'll still come out better than Filius. Let's hear the number of phials, Severus!"
He didn't like this and rose a calculating eyebrow to assess the Headmaster's standing, but Dumbledore smiled jovially and seemed only to be amused more than usual.
"Did you all wager on my level of involvement in the Ministry's machinations?" – Severus finally asked with more than a hint of hurt ringing in his voice.
"Of course, what would have you expected after showing off your loyal obedience with the first batch of Veritaserum?" – Minerva accepted her drink and was already more loud and rugged than her cubs would've probably ever recognized to be her. "It was the first, wasn't it? You gave it over like it was the Holy Grail, before dinner, I should add, and right at the Head Table. If that was not for show, I am a Hufflepuff. I had to find a way to make them at least question your actions, whatever Albus thinks, this wager was for a good cause!"
"I've never said otherwise" – the Headmaster pointed out. "I merely suggested that Severus might not want your additional attention."
"Whenever did we decide the boy wanted no attention? I can't recall a single instance we gave him any." – Minerva gestured widely with her goblet and seated herself in the near side of the comfortable sofa under Dilys Derwent's portrait. "By the by, Albus, you should talk to Pomona! She agrees with me," – she went on as if it was the most natural occurrence for the Head of Gryffindor to argue the Headmaster over the necessity to support one Severus Snape.
He began to question the wisdom of taking a sip of his drink in this world obviously already turned upside down, when he heard his name and his goblet seemed the safest object to hide behind after all.
"And you, Severus, you should talk to her too! You've neglected her dreadfully this year. Maybe you can't join our little club yourself, but that's no reason for you to avoid the greenhouses. She wants to show you her Wiggentree sapling, this would be the first time to successfully cultivate one so close to the Forbidden Forest. I could not follow her reasoning longer, you should go and ask her!"
Severus politely nodded and thought about coming onto her and Flitwick the other day in front of her office. He couldn't be entirely sure but maybe, just maybe, good old McGonagall wanted to defend him… Could it be? He still remembered his initial shock when the word friend fell from the witch's lips, and he knew better than to think she didn't know what she said. He peeked over to see Dumbledore's face but the old wizard showed no recognition of what he felt extraordinary.
"Your little club?" – he finally asked back, feigning interest.
"Alas you are playing an unusually dangerous game this year my boy, although you've never been one for building friendships among your colleagues" – answered the Headmaster in Minerva's stead. "Our little DADT meetings are sadly lacking your socially awkward fidgeting but it cannot be helped."
"Defense Against the Dark Toad" – Minerva supplied.
Severus was reasonably sure that both the Headmaster and McGonagall enjoyed his rare confusion before he remembered Beauxbaton once mentioning ordinary meetings in the Greenhouses. She, and strangely Parkinson…
"Pomona must be a delightful hostess, but I still didn't miss the opportunity to deprive Sybil of her booze."
"You knew about it?"
Minerva seemed genuinely surprised, however Dumbledore's contented smile managed to prevent Severus' self-satisfied smirk. It was his duty to know, but instead of pointing this out he quickly considered if to tell his sources. A glance at Dumbledore, and he decided.
"Never underestimate student-gossip Minerva. My bad eggs might not go over the edge as much as your reckless cubs, but rule-breaking is quite a common pastime here around. You've been seen as soon as October began."
"Oh, I wonder–"
"I managed to avert consequences" – he assured smoothly. "What were the stakes?"
"Two to one if they are under ten, and double if above, one phial lenience if no one scored exact. Now spill!"
Severus wondered for a short moment what might each have betted on, than sighed.
"One fifth of a phial of the original serum, currently divided into six false batches and I've got three more to serve her after the hols, which would make a little less than a quarter phial of serum and a total of nine phials I gave her."
"Albus, it's impossible!" – McGonagall cried out.
"I would rather say, interesting."
"But how to judge then?" – Minerva looked thoroughly vexed. "Severus, you didn't make this easy. I risked two galleons on three phials, Albus four on twelve, and Filius three on ten. Sybil saw only one in her cards, but decided to forgo to name her bet. I don't see a way to decide this."
Severus lifted an eyebrow.
"No other wagers?"
"Well, Pomona thinks it is not right to bet on your honour, she made a fuss, actually." McGonagall pulled a shoulder. "And Sage forced to bet on serum by drops but we voted her out after you brewed together."
"You may as well count her estimation, she never even approached that shelf" – Severus suppressed a grin with some difficulties and hid behind his goblet again.
"That may be, but we still count by phials not drops or serum–" – McGonagall's voice trailed away.
"Maybe you will consider to prolong the decision" – Severus offered. "The toad already ordered me to brew more for her, and I have no reason to think she won't ask for additions in the coming months."
Minerva jumped up excitedly.
"That may be just the thing! I need to talk to Pomona, if you both forgive me…"
"What was this good for?" – Severus turned to the Headmaster when the door closed behind the witch.
"It keeps up morale" – Dumbledore's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I dare say you should play more too. I know your yearly wager on the Quidditch-results with Minerva is only a charade after all."
"A charade that costs me two percent of my salary every year" – Severus answered gracelessly. "It's a traditional stake and Slughorn had no sense for mathematics."
"He made up for the deficit with an impressive vault at Gringotts. However, I didn't mean that."
"I already gamble enough." Severus couldn't suppress a grimace even if the Headmaster eyed him from above his half-moon spectacles.
"Hmmm… and only you may know, my boy, exactly how much that is."
As all levity of the discussion dissipated into thin air, Severus put his goblet aside.
"Are you trying to warn me, Sir?"
"Should I?"
The Headmaster walked past his desk and seated himself in a comfortable armchair closer to his Potions Master.
"Have you had time to think about our dealings?" – he seemingly changed the subject and leaned back on the cushioned headrest.
"I did, but to no avail."
"Dolores would be reluctant to accept any more tales about my travelling in sake of my health, but you are not in position to move around either. Time will come, my boy, when you will find yourself on your own for a while and I cannot suggest you lean on Minerva or any other to ease your burden, it wouldn't be wise."
"I understand, Sir," – Severus said, and oh, he did. Even the underlying warning not to turn to Beauxbaton like he did in the autumn. Of course Dumbledore knew, he always knew…
"Good. Now about your post and duties. I'm afraid I have to rely on your outstanding abilities even more. Harry needs more protection even if he and Tom are still different in core, and you are the best choice to give him this protection, Severus."
He could only stare, stunned. Hadn't he proved he did just that, protected the brat for years?
"Sir?"
"You are the best Occlumens I ever had the pleasure to know, it is only rational you teach the boy how to avoid Tom and his machinations."
"Rational?!" Severus cried out with disbelief and leaned forward in his seat, ready to jump up and pace the room, or leave instantly. "He is in the boy's head, sir, how am I to teach him? What should I say if He asks? Or if He catches me in the act? Good gracious, Dumbledore, would you risk the boy's sanity if He engages me in a fight within his head? Or shall I risk mine?"
"Calm down, my boy, this is the way it should be. I cannot act in your stead exactly because of your reasons. Your possible encounter with Riddle in Harry's head would be unfortunate, but it is unlikely. However my presence would most certainly call his attention. Harry is safer with you, Severus. And he must learn for his own sake."
"For the sake of all of us, Headmaster, but I believe you are wrong, sir. Occlumency is a fine, subtle art like all mind magic as you very well know that. The boy has not a single cell in his body that has a chance to catch what the word means, not to practice it! His emotions are flaring, especially when he sees me, his anger is the Dark Lord's best ally. His hatred, we both cultivated for me over the years makes it downright impossible to even try to–"
"Now, now, Severus, you mustn't push the blame on him! I'm sure if your behaviour reasonably changes in your lessons, you may catch his attention, or at least his curiosity. Also, there's no one else to ask. Sage dear cannot be involved, her intentions are under question at the moment, and we cannot risk being betrayed, and–"
"What?!" – Now Severus stood as if he hit a spring's catch and turned to pace the room only too aware of his suspicious behaviour. He couldn't afford this, he reminded himself, and restored his mask of civility before he faced his master again. "I was unaware we are at this point, sir, Mad-Eye is a pillar of the Order, surely his own blood would never–"
"Your sense of loyalty is admirable, my boy, but you are slicker than to believe it applies to all. Alastor is watching her, and there's no need for us to worry, but its unwise to trust her with something of that import. I cannot do it, which tells it must be your duty. I am sure you will find a way."
"Sir,–" – Severus could only shake his head.
"I will lend you my Pensieve."
Severus sighed.
"Good. So you should begin as soon as the term resumes. I advise you to talk to him tomorrow, Molly prepares a wonderful dinner. You will find Harry at Headquarters and you may talk to him in peace. Also, if you join the party, you'll have a chance to develop a sense of trust you'll need."
"Are you ordering me now to participate a Christmas party at that infernal house?! Sir, you cannot seriously believe–"
"I can and I do," – Dumbledore rose. "For the sake of the greater good. And maybe for your own, Severus, I don't believe you would die by a mere day of mandatory socializing. I'll see you after, don't let me down."
i Et nunquam dimittas - And never let go.
ii Nunquam – Soha.