Author's Note: All right, ya'll...this chapter is probably not up to my intended standards, but I really wanted to update before too long. So I decided not to let perfect be the enemy of good. :) Thanks for the notes and reviews now and then! It is especially encouraging to continue to hear that Severus and Petunia seem true to their original characters.
It's possible I may be a little slower in the upcoming chapters; I sort of hit the peak of my original story of several years ago, and now I'm at a point where I am reimagining part of where it was going. But I still expect to update regularly, and the end as I've imagined it is still in tact. Hope you are enjoying!
The beat goes on...
Tempest
The next two weeks were like a raging storm in the middle of the ocean – that's how Petunia would remember it. Every waking – and half waking – thought was of Severus. Over and over, she pictured his glittering eyes, how they looked at her with a cold fire inside, a sort of desperate obsession and unbearable longing. She reflected often how much it was many a woman's lifelong fantasy to be looked at that way.
She had not felt this terrified – wonderfully terrified – since she was maybe 14 or so, when she'd had er first crush, or had obsessed about her favorite music artists. Severus, for all his apparent coldness, had a delicious warmth to him; she could feel it in his skin whenever he gave her the slightest touch. He had only kissed her hand, the only real signal of a desire for intimacy so far, but it made her feel unsteady on her feet.
She also marveled how the way a person feels about you can change how you see them; once upon a time, she had thought him quite ugly and the sight of him sent her into a deep hatred. Now…that black hair that seemed so uncared for made him seem youthful, energetic, and mysterious. She could feel and see and hear the depth of his passionate emotions every time she was with him. She had gotten to know him now, and she would never be able to look at him the same way again.
Thank goodness they were going to have another date soon. Severus had asked her if she might like to go out again, exactly one week after their first date, which she'd found just adorable. She could hardly wait, and yet she passed every second with equal dread. What if he only kissed her hand again? She thought she might die of yearning if things did not move further along by their next date. Her instinctual desire wanted to burn everything in its path, to quickly claim this man body and soul before something happened – like he changed his mind, or she woke up.
Severus's humble, devoted interest had awakened her now quite mature sex drive, and she was finding it a challenge to go at his pace. I've been married before, and he's never had anyone; I have to remember that…she would remind herself; having been in a lifelong relationship already, all the early bells and whistles did not seem so important to her in her middle age.
Meanwhile, she and Severus had mutually agreed to put there work on hold – at least together. Each of them could continue to work or practice on their own. But for the time being, they would wait until they had figured "this thing" out before they tried to return to a more professional relationship. It was new ground for them both, and she could tell that he was desperate to take great care not to endanger the growing affection between them.
It was up to her to find a productive way to pass the time until next week, and she did her best. She could only read for so long, but she read when she could. Magical practice, oddly, was winding down, and she found herself increasingly drawn to the study of Herbology. Perhaps there was a sense of familiarity in Professor Sprout's greenhouses, in their humid warmth, the smells of many different plants going through their stages of pollination, of the almost mundane conversations with the professor and Neville Longbottom, whom she was very much coming to like.
Granted, magical herbology was worlds apart from botany as she knew it. The plants wizards cultivated seemed like distant cousins to plants that were familiar in her "muggle" experience. The wailing mandrakes were shocking; it was hard not to be a little horrified at what looked like people holding small children by their hair while they buried them in dirt. It was morbidly fascinating.
She spent a lot of time learning about the plants, trying to understand why and how these were different from the ones she knew. Why didn't mandrakes "wail" in her world? Were they different species entirely? Or was it a matter of nurture and breeding? Maybe a little magical engineering? These questions suddenly seemed much more interesting to her than her previous work, and it was nice to have something to keep her mind occupied.
One afternoon, as she was lying on her bed thinking dreamily about Severus's dark, desirous gaze, a sudden thought interrupted her reverie and she sat bolt upright. What about Dudley?! Dudley was off at school; it was his first year at university. When had she last spoken to him? How was he doing? And how might he react when he found out that his recently widowed mother was romantically involved with the very kind of person she had raised him to hate?
The thought of her son brought her mundane and magical worlds colliding together. This is getting very real, she realized. Much as it might seem like she had been whisked off to another land, that was not the case. This was the real world, and Hogwarts was a part of it. Sooner or later, she was going to have to find a way to live in both worlds. Maybe, she mused, she might give him a heads up. That way, if something serious came of her and Severus, he would at least be prepared.
She got up right away and went to her desk to write Dudley a very long letter. In it, she tried to catch him up in as vague and casual terms as she could; he had known she had gone to visit Hogwarts, or had said she was going to, but he had not heard anything from her since. He might be surprised to learn that she was still here.
As she came to the end of her letter, she alluded to having "met someone," and suggested that it was too early to tell if it meant anything, but that she had good hopes. She was careful to make sure she told him how she missed his father as well – on some level, she was sure that was true, even if she didn't think on it often.
She ended the letter with asking him to tell her all about his first year at school, how he was doing, if he needed anything, if he'd made any friends, and maybe if he had met someone special himself yet. As she sealed the envelope, she felt a terrible stab of guilt. How had he handled his own grief, all alone, without her to be part of it? How could she have let him go so long without contact. If you're honest with yourself, a cold, accusing voice said within her, you wanted to forget. You wanted to pretend that other life didn't exist, just for a little while.
She was halfway up the tower steps to the Owlery when she suddenly realized how utterly foolish it would be to send him a letter by owl. She would have to do it the old-fashioned way. Her visit was quick and quiet, and as soon as the letter was safely in the Dursley mailbox at Privet Drive, she rushed back to Hogwarts. She took a deep breath and dressed in her robes to go to dinner.
Perhaps it was merely coincidence, but she would often wonder later if the storm of arousal and emotional tempest had something to do with the fact that she was beginning to have strange dreams again, and they were almost always about snakes. She would dream in Parseltongue, having conversations with some being that always took some kind of serpentine form.
She had a feeling she was having the same conversation each night, but she could never remember what it was about when she woke up. All she could remember was the presence of a great serpent and the green, eerie light of the Slytherin house dungeon halls. She would have to let Severus know…but by the time their second date came around, she'd forgotten all about it.
For their second date, Severus took her to dinner at another exclusive wizard restaurant, this one in Diagon Alley. They talked about Dudley, and what it had been like to raise Harry. She was intrigued to hear stories about her nephew at school, both heroic and audacious. Having been to the Forbidden Forest, knowing that that flying car of the Weasleys was still running around wild in it had a whole new significance.
After dinner, Severus had told her they had a "surprise" outing, which she had been dying to find out. They went to a floo in the Ministry after hours – of course it was no trouble for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to be allowed in – and after an apprehensive trip through the floo could not contain her disbelief when they stepped out of the Russian ministry – right in front of the Bolshoi Theater. She could not, of course, read Russian, but she knew from the banner hanging on the theater that Sleeping Beauty was playing there. She turned to Severus, wide-eyed, and told him he had really outdone himself this time.
"I can't believe this is real!" she'd gushed. Severus had a broad smile on his face. It was obvious that he enjoyed seeing her delighted by things that he himself might not find particularly interesting. When they sat in the darkened theater, dancers leaping and spinning across the stage to a live orchestra, her hand took on a life of its own and reached for Severus's, and they held hands to the very end.
She sometimes reflected later how she had been sitting in the most famous ballet theatre with the best dancers in the world in a foreign country, and yet she'd gotten distracted a few times thinking very steamy thoughts as she savored the feeling of his warm, male hand in hers.
It was just getting dark when they returned to Hogwarts; Russia was eight hours ahead. She marveled at the fact that she had been across the world and back in one night. They embraced as they parted, and she started to walk back up to the school, a little disappointed that she would have to wait longer, apparently, for her raging libido to be appeased. Petunia wrapped the knitted shawl she'd brought with her around her shoulders and took a few steps up the path when suddenly an impulsive idea took hold of her.
You might want to move things along a bit, honey, unless you want him to take forever with this 'Victorian gentleman' bit of his. Oh, she knew, she knew…she should leave it alone, let it blossom and grow and evolve…To hell with that. The devil on her shoulder won. She stopped and turned around. He was still standing there, watching to make sure she made it safely inside.
"You know," she said, coming back, "If we're going to keep doing this, we might as well make it official.
"Of…of course," he stammered as she slowly walked up to him and stood about a foot away.
"Well then."
"What?" he asked breathlessly. Severus was looking very much like a terrified teenager at this moment – clearly he had not yet thought much farther ahead than this.
"You might want to, I don't know…give me your letter jacket, as it were. You know, in case any other lads come sniffing around?" She knew Severus had no idea what she was talking about except that he seemed to have registered that last part about "other lads."
"Other…? Is there… are there…"
"Not yet. But the day is young," she teased. His face was tormented with confusion and fear. "So," she continued, feeling a little sorry for manipulating him this way, "As I said, why don't we make it official? If you want to, that is."
"Hhh..how do we do that?" He asked, his voice barely audible. Her mouth twitched, and before she burst out laughing, she came right up to him, stood on her toes and gave him a soft but unmistakably sensual kiss on the lips. Tentatively, he kissed her back, and looked very sorry when she let him go and stepped away from him.
"There," she said, in her lowest, most seductive voice. "Now I'm all yours."
She smiled, waved her fingers, and turned to walk back up the path, leaving him standing there frozen, his face a picture of shock. That ought to get things moving along, she thought with some satisfaction. She was very proud of herself for her boldness – she only hoped it wasn't too much. But…nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
Petunia could not possibly know how deeply and furiously she had stirred the waters with her little kiss stunt and that bit about being "all yours." Severus found himself in his home without remembering how he'd gotten there, and barely slept a wink. All night all he kept reliving the moment she had kissed him – no…they had kissed…and he played those words over and over in his head as if to assure himself it had happened. I'm all yours….all yours….all yours…all…his?! Truly?!
At about four in the morning it suddenly occurred to him that he might need to up his game. He had not thought much at all about having sex with Petunia – he had not yet dared because he did not want to get his hopes up or make himself crazy. When he thought about her, he would relive the night he'd massaged her feet and the last couple of dates. But he had not wandered down that further road in his imagination, yet. Now, it appeared, it was time to get his head on straight and stop acting like an idiot.
He had never kissed anyone before. He knew she knew this, and probably didn't expect him then to be very good at it, or anything else along those lines. But he could not settle for this. He wanted to meet her need – he wanted to leave her breathless, give her a reason to keep saying yes. You're going to lose her interest if you don't get your head out of your arse and start acting like a man, his cold, practical inner voice told him. Undoubtedly.
Well, there was no real chance at "practicing" ahead of time. Perhaps he could engineer a magickal means of doing so, but…that felt like cheating, and like cheating on her. He would just have to wing it. He decided that his strategy would be to attune himself to every bit of her energy, try as best as he could to let her tell him what she expected with her body, when he kissed her again.
And he needed to make sure, this time, that when he did, she would have no question as to his desire, and his readiness to act on it. A hungry wolfishness began to possess him. He thought about Lupin and thought he could finally feel a little sympathy for the man. If he has to deal with that every full moon, for hours…he would have to have a new – secret - respect for Lupin's self-mastery.
Severus was barely attentive on their third date. They had decided to go to Diagon Alley again, for simplicity's sake, and then to a place of Petunia's choice. Although their conversation had become much more comfortable, Severus was quieter than usual and he let Petunia do most of the talking. He was too busy thinking about how to properly kiss her to register much of their conversation. If Petunia noticed, she graciously did not seem to take offense.
Dinner was short. When they finished, Petunia revealed that the place she wanted to go with him was, in fact, on the Hogwarts grounds. Intrigued, he followed her back to the school, letting her lead him by the hand. When they were standing outside the doors of the great hall, Petunia revealed their destination: the Astronomy Tower.
"Er…" He had not been expecting this. What an unfortunate wrench in his plans for the evening! How could he tell her why that was the last place in the world he wanted to go? It would ruin the evening and she would feel bad for having suggested it. No, there was nothing for it but to tough it out, for her sake. He could not, after all, avoid it forever. But he could tell that Petunia had picked up on his hesitation, and she seemed uncertain about persisting.
"Right. Let's go," he said as cheerfully as he could muster, and led them up to the tower where Severus had last seen Albus Dumbledore alive – and then killed him. He had not been back since that night. When they got there, Severus felt a lump in his throat. He soon realized that his body had its own idea of how to respond to the traumatic memory, and he would not likely be able to do anything about it. As Petunia walked around gazing dreamily at the sky, he watched her turn slowly to him, understanding dawning on her face. She knew something was terribly wrong. He must tell her. She might as well know this and many other things about him, if he were really going to let her get close.
"I'm sorry, Petunia. This is a difficult place for me to be," he started. She waited, and when he didn't continue, she went over to the wraparound bench and sat, waiting. He sighed and came over to join her. "I don't know how to tell you this…the last time I was here was when Dumbledore, the previous headmaster, fell – to his death…" He could not speak again for some time. Petunia, her face filled with concern and sympathy, took his hand and held it in hers, resting it on her knee. She said nothing. He was surprised…but also, grateful. After some silence, she finally spoke.
"Severus, we can go somewhere else – "
"No," he said a little more forcefully than he meant to. He took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes, willing her to see into him, to see his heart and the truth of his love for her. "I don't want to change anything about tonight. I want to be here, with you. Besides," he said, doing his best to smile through his overwhelming grief, "it is necessary for me to face this eventually. At least I didn't have to do it alone. There's no one I would rather be here with. Thank you."
Petunia stared back at him, her eyes blazing with emotion. Like a snake striking out at its prey, she suddenly kissed him as hard as she could, as if by doing so she could convey the depth of her caring. Severus kissed her back softly, relishing the feel of her small, soft lips on his. She sat back and seemed to watch him for a moment, perhaps looking for some reaction. Again, he gave her a shaky smile. He took a deep breath. And then…
"There's more I have to tell you about that night, about how Dumbledore died. I…killed him." He felt completely numb and he was glad of that, because he had been afraid he would completely lose his composure and start sobbing. Petunia looked, to her credit, properly horrified, but she continued to hold his hand, giving it a squeeze, and he could tell that she was with him in his pain at having done something unforgivable and having to live with it. There was no judgement in her pale eyes. Slowly, quietly, with starts and stops, Severus told her the entire story of that awful night. The more he talked, the easier it became…being able to explain how he had ended up in a situation where he had to carry out Dumbledore's wishes, what that felt like, how people hated him and thought he had betrayed Dumbledore until the very end…And all the self-hatred, all the guilt he had been carrying all this time, began to seep out of him. Hearing his own words, he could forgive the person telling this awful ordeal. It was healing.
"Are you all right, Severus?" she asked after a moment of silence. He nodded, and this time his smile did not feel so forced. He was buoyed on the waves of his grief by the relief of not holding it alone any longer.
"I am. It does help, talking about it. Still…I'm glad you don't think I'm a monster – do you?" He said, suddenly anguished. She shook her head violently.
"No. You are not a monster. You are the exact opposite. Like Dumbledore, you are a martyr. You're carrying scars no one else could possibly understand. You made the ultimate sacrifice, just like he did, just in a different way. Possibly even worse, since he was already dying of the curse."
He breathed deeply again, feeling the cold night air rushing into his lungs, feeling fresh, clean, renewed. He looked out of the tower at the stars in silence with her. He had forgotten about his plan to sweep her off her feet this evening until Petunia scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. He held her then, cradling her into his body, a surge of joy and pleasure coming from the feeling of being the protector, the comforter, even though he was the one in need of comfort. To have her trust like this…once upon a time, as his friend, Lily also had – "
"The other night, when you said we were going to 'make it official' and you were 'all mine-'" He blurted before he could finish the other thought. He swallowed, savoring the feeling of her soft hair against his neck, his lips grazing the top of her forehead. Noiselessly she chuckled, and he attempted to do the same, suddenly feeling terribly nervous. "Did you mean that? Or were you just joking?"
"I was joking," she laughed, "but I also meant it, and was being completely serious." She looked up into his eyes and smiled, and her face was the most irresistibly beautiful he had ever seen in his life. "I'm serious about you, Severus…about giving this a try. So, when I said 'I'm all yours,' that means…well…I suppose it means…"
Before she could find a way to finish the sentence, Severus put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, kissing her deeply, passionately, hungrily. She gasped with her mouth against his and he heard her softly moan. He took her face in her hands, caressing it, stroking her hair as he kissed her. Then he pulled her even closer to him, wrapping his arms around her small waist like a vice.
Unwilling to pull away from her for even a moment, he inhaled sharply against her, his mouth continuously against hers. Her breath came out in small, desperate pants that drove his passion even more. She tipped her head back as if to give him better access and let his mouth explore hers. He kissed each of her lips separately, tasting them, massaging them.
Though he had taken charge and she was yielding, he could feel her arms around his waist, now around his neck, now rubbing his chest with a sort of insistent impatience. Her every movement told him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. After a while there was something like a rhythm between them, only the sound of their breathing and pleasure for what felt like a very long time. When they finally separated for a moment, she looked up at him through fluttering, half closed eyes, and spoke as if she were drunk.
"What inspired that?"
Severus laughed and held his hand against her face, amused and adoring her at the same time.
"You did, quite literally, when you kissed me the other night. I thought I'd better keep up."
"With the wonton desires of a worldly woman?" she joked, snickering.
"Exactly." But Severus was only partly joking.
"Oh, if that's the case," she murmured, her voice low and seductive, "you definitely have your work cut out for you."
"Is that so?" He murmured back, smiling, and kissed her again.
"Mmmhmm. I hope you're up to it."
Me too, he thought, feeling lightheaded as blood rushed through his body, his skin growing warmer, his breath faster and shorter till he felt like his collared suit was starting to choke him. But he tried to sound far more confident than he felt.
"Petunia, you have no idea," he said as he continued to graze her lips.
Severus walked her to her dungeon room before they said good night, one last, long kiss when they were certain there were no students roaming the halls that might catch them.
"Good night, Severus," Petunia said, and the way she looked at him now was unmistakably predatory. He flushed again, and suddenly felt the need to hold himself back from rushing through her door and throwing her on her bed. Not so fast, not so fast…easy… he told himself as the door closed on her bright, playful eyes.
His wolfish arousal calmed a little bit as he walked the grounds to where he would apparate home. In spite of his growing anticipation over having more physical intimacy with Petunia, the thought that he mused upon as he dropped off to sleep was only one word. Mine.
