Can I say that in my absence from , you all have turned me into a blubbering mess coming back? I have never had this many reviews for a story, and I truly want to thank each and every one of you for your thoughtful reviews. I have been pretty sick and honestly, this chapter was brutal to write. It did not happen the way I wanted it to, but I'm pleased with the end result after a week or so of edits. Please enjoy Chapter Nineteen, and keep an eye out for Chapter Twenty, to be posted tomorrow.
It was difficult not to notice her, Severus reasoned.
Her dark chocolate hair, the butterscotch shade of her hazel eyes, the way her cupid bow's mouth curved so easily into a smile.
Standing a few aisles away from her in Slug and Jiggers, he could easily discern the sweet cinnamon and orange perfume she had started wearing in his sixth year. He watched her carefully slide a fingertip towards a box of bezoars and found his mouth twitching.
The last year of Potions was excruciatingly difficult. At a NEWT level, students were preparing for grueling coursework. Severus found himself wondering if she had finally decided on a career. She had been indecisive when he last saw her, before graduation.
He swallowed as he tied off the bag of lacewing flies and wondered if she would notice him. It was late in the summer to be shopping for school supplies. Seeing Charlotte would not be altogether unpleasant. She had always been kind to him, perhaps he could consider her a close acquaintance.
However, the company she kept left much to be desired.
"Severus?"
His eyelids closed.
When they reopened, she was smiling as she maneuvered around a display of cauldrons, her basket brimming with familiar ingredients.
"Charlotte," he greeted quietly, stretching his hand out for an informal grasp.
The brunette snorted at his outstretched fingers and pulled him into an uncomfortably close hug.
"How are you?"
Severus blinked.
She was thinner, the dimples in her cheeks less pronounced in a slim face. Her hair looked somehow less like silky chocolate and more like – he was nearly embarrassed to admit – common garden soil. Over the summer, Severus had accepted a position as a Potions Apprentice. He had found a small flat in London that took the majority of his wages and spent his free time with Lucius and the others from Slytherin.
He doubted that Charlotte Fraser cared about any of that.
"Fine," he answered safely instead, "And you?"
"Good," she answered too quickly, "Just getting ready to go back for term. Is it odd, to not go back?"
Severus hummed agreement, noting the unease in which her eyes darted around the shop.
Perhaps she did not want to be seen with him.
"Have you selected a career?"
"I might try to reopen my father's apothecary," Charlotte's voice carried off, "Maybe."
Severus felt his mouth twitch.
"I'm not indecisive," she snapped quickly, "Don't start with that again."
"Of course," He replied reasonably.
Her butterscotch eyes narrowed, "Thank you."
They stood shoulder to shoulder, Severus inspecting a jar of lovage, Charlotte fiddling with her ingredient pouches absently.
"Sirius and I aren't together anymore," she said quietly.
Severus felt his eyes widen; his shoulders stiffened.
"We were too different."
Severus made a noncommittal noise, attempting to discern if she noticed the change of pace in his breathing. He wondered if she could hear the hammering beneath his chest.
"I'm sure Regulus will tell you all about it," her fingers wound around a ribbon-tied bag of beetle eyes.
"Regulus?"
"Walburga…" Charlotte drifted off, "It's fine. Never mind."
Too abruptly, he found himself staring at her.
"You can write to me, at Hogwarts," he said suddenly.
Her soft butterscotch eyes looked up at him, rimmed with liquid, "Really?"
Severus nodded awkwardly.
"I would really love that."
She smiled, the now-smaller dimples pressing into her cheeks.
Too quickly, they finished their shopping. Severus stalled his departure, watching her talk with the owner, her fingers and hands moving with every sentence.
Walburga.
Severus had wondered, often, what had incited the otherwise selfish pureblood to take on another child. Charlotte had been young when her parents were killed. Though the liquidation of their estate had likely brought in substantial profit, that money had all gone to the Fraser vault in Gringott's.
But she was a pureblood, from an old family. Perhaps not as prestigious as the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the Frasers were still a respected pureblooded family, and Charlotte was the last of them. If he chose to be analytical on the matter – and he did so choose to be – he doubted that Walburga would allow Charlotte to break things off with her estranged son without an expectation of her to pay back the labor and time she had spent raising the witch. She would want a return on her investment.
He watched her as she thanked the shop keeper, who made a short comment about it being a pleasure to assist Malcolm Fraser's daughter.
A pleasure, perhaps, since her father's death had increased his sales tenfold.
Charlotte passed a wry smile and met him by the door, she passed through it as he opened it.
"Would you like to get an ice cream? Or a lemonade?"
Severus wanted to.
But shortly his master would be wondering why it had taken over an hour for him to fetch a few ounces of lacewing flies and boomslang skin, and this early in his apprenticeship, Severus was not inclined to make the old wizard wait.
"I have to return to work," he answered regretfully instead.
Her smile faltered, but she caught the expression slipping and he saw it reappear on her lips, though they pulled in an unnatural way, her butterscotch eyes dim.
"Perhaps we can see one another before you return to Hogwarts."
He could ask his master for an afternoon off, he thought absently, watching the forced smile bloom genuinely once more on her milky face.
"I would enjoy that," she replied, "Should I invite Regulus along as well?"
"No."
Severus regretted the way the syllable left his mouth so quickly, but it appeared not to phase Charlotte. He supposed that her friends likely felt the same way about Regulus Black, who was a naturally dislikable individual for his stifling charisma, and that he was a bothersome know-it-all.
"I'll see you soon then," Charlotte smiled, "It was nice to see you, Severus."
As Severus made the short walk from Slug & Jitter's to the Leaky Cauldron, he still felt the warmth of her body wrapping around him as she squeezed him into a hug before she hurried down the alleyway toward a familiar blonde head leaving Madam Malkin's. Of course, she had been there with Louisa. Louisa, he recalled, who had hated Sirius Black – and Regulus – and had cornered him after an evening of House Cup celebrations to demand he declare feelings for her roommate.
What Louisa lacked in thoughtfulness, she more than made up for it in her assertive behavior.
But Severus had not made any indication of his boyhood feelings for Charlotte. She was a pureblood witch and sought after in their circle. When tied to Black, their opportunity for interaction outside of the Slytherin common room had been minimal and rushed. Now, if she were truly tied to Regulus, it would be no different. The Black brothers had always had a keen interest in the dark-haired ward of their mother. Severus, a poor wizard living in a roach-infested flat, stood as much of a chance with Charlotte Fraser as a snowball in Hell.
His master had made no comment about his late return other than a loud grunt of displeasure, and Severus spent the afternoon brewing batches of Polyjuice. It was a simple potion enough to allow his thoughts to wander to a girl and a boy hovered over a book in a library, whispering words they could never take back.
Something valuable, Lucius had demanded of him.
Possession was not achievable by any witch or wizard.
It required a complex mind to sift through a thousand personalities, faces, attributes, to singly pursue a consciousness.
She had done it so easily.
It would have been a lie to admit the thought of it did not cause his skin to grow cold.
While Legilimency was invasive enough, it was calculating and precise. Severus attributed it to getting a shot at the doctor's office, such as when he had grown ill as a boy and his father had taken him to a muggle doctor.
Possession was surgery without anesthetic.
He had wondered, often, into the summer if Slughorn had been aware of the invasion. The portly wizard certainly had not appeared to treat Charlotte any different. Though, Charlotte was particularly talented in Potions, and was one of Slughorn's favorite pupils. Severus, despite his mastery of the class, did not meet the other requirements of Slughorn's foolish club. Perhaps there was more forgiveness involved when you came from a wealthy, powerful family, and were tied to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
Charlotte had always appeared good-natured and friendly. In his research, those talented in possession carried tendencies likened to sociopathy. They were not typically capable of empathy or genuine relationships. Severus had witnessed – on multiple counts – Charlotte being empathetic and carrying true friendships. She did not meet the typical classification of a witch capable of the magic.
That, in itself, carried value.
Despite his effort, he could not rid the images from his mind. The pearl-white her eyes had morphed into, the way her entire body had stilled and grown cold. It had been only moments, perhaps, that she had been gone, coming back with a choking gasp. She had trembled their entire walk back to the common room, and Severus could quietly hear her swallowing. No words had been spoken between them; the corridors only filled with the sounds of their shoes on the stone floors.
Severus made a mental note to write a letter to Lucius before he retired for the evening. It had been several days since their conversation, and Severus's failed attempts to rise within the Dark Lord's ranks. He was still resigned to carrying out foolish errands. They were beneath him.
Something valuable.
Something valuable, indeed.
Butterscotch eyes were watching him when his own opened.
For a moment, he felt his stomach drop, as his mind grasped and reinforced the wall of his mind.
"Charlotte," he said, his voice thick with sleep.
Charlotte peered at Severus; her eyes were bloodshot within her thin face.
She watched him in silence for several moments.
"I'll get Louisa," he said, standing from his seat.
She noted the crumpled wrappers and empty, stained paper cups littering the table alongside her bed. He must have been there for some time, she thought.
"What did you do, Severus?"
The wizard froze outside the doorway, his fingers grasping the silver knob.
The croak of her voice had turned the air stagnant within the small hospital room. Its crackling syllables pressed against the wallpaper. She could hear him swallow, her own ears ringing.
When he turned, his face was a cool mask. There was no indication that he had properly heard her, his eyes were calm, but she caught the small flutter of discomfort as his jaw tightened.
Charlotte's eyes narrowed, "What did you do?"
"I don't understand your meaning, Charlotte."
"Something valuable."
The puzzled stare that followed her words was perhaps only a momentary expression.
It lasted a second or more.
Charlotte couldn't recall.
All she could recall was the burn, and the ice that followed.
It was the sudden movement, as she flung the sheets from her burned legs and stood upon them, despite the pain that shot to her bones. She saw, for a moment, that Severus had attempted to open the door, but it was suddenly slammed closed. His hand dropped from the knob, and his dark eyes turned to look within her own.
All it would take was a second, she recalled.
She did not need the words.
They were engrained in her very brain.
Unus ex amino.
Os ex ossibus meis.
Spiro tibi respirare.
Tibi respirare et spiritus meus.
She did not meet the classification of a witch capable of possession.
She was capable of empathy.
She was capable of relationships.
Despite the image of her sewn by Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin, Charlotte knew what she was capable of.
She was, after all, a Death Eater.
It took perhaps a moment to press against his mind. Charlotte felt his reinforced defenses, her fingers pressing for any seams, any cracks. Vaguely, she could hear a choking scream. Dumbledore's Charlotte, she thought for a moment, would have stopped then. Instead, her fists fell upon the walls in a familiar gesture, her frustration mounting.
The black smoke dissolved them.
They disintegrated to ash as she pressed through them.
It was there, stowed carefully in his mind, that she found them.
Something valuable.
She did not mind her gestures. Her fingers tore the memories from their shelves, smashing them open with fury as she watched them play before her eyes.
"I have something that could be of value to the Dark Lord."
There had always been a reason Charlotte was not allowed into his pensieve.
"Allow Regulus to become a Death Eater. Their marriage will bring her closer to us."
There had been a reason that he had agreed to the contract pressed upon him by Dumbledore.
"Some mistakes, Severus, you must pay for."
Dumbledore, who had lied and known.
"How long do you plan to keep this from her?"
Severus, who had destroyed everything.
"Regulus knows."
Because it was there, in the maze of Severus Snape's mind, that she found them.
Every lie he had whispered to her in the dark.
"If you spare her, my lord, I-I will train Charlotte. I will make her more valuable to you."
Well... that was a tough one.
I will update this chapter later with our House Cup. The spontaneous addition of over 100 reviews makes my math skills spin a bit, but I will update this Chapter (and Twenty tomorrow) with updated House Cup Results.
As always, include your House Name in your review and gain 5 points to your House to bring it to glory.
At this time, our reigning House is Slytherin, of course.
Thank you again,
- Holly