Thanks to all the wonderful people who sent so many encouraging reviews for the last chapter. Work prevents me from updating more frequently, but here is the next chapter at last.
Chapter Ten: HealingIt was already getting dark when they reached the cottage. He had renewed his wards upon leaving, making apparition into the property itself impossible. So they materialized just outside the garden gate and Snape had to carry his injured, unexpected guest all the way to the cottage. Alexandra steadied herself with her arms around his neck, self-consciously aware of the sensations the closeness of his body and the security his arms created in her.
The fading light had enhanced the smells and the sounds of the garden, had softened the outlines of the house. There was a peaceful, unearthly, enchanted beauty about the place. Alexandra couldn't hold back her expressions of wonder and delight, Snape, however, only snorted derisively and informed her curtly that it was not much of a house, just a bedroom, a tiny bathroom and a living area with the kitchen. There were stairs leading to a second story, but the room up there still needed refurbishment.
He opened the front door with a spell of his wand and carried her across the threshold;
with a grunt he deposited her in an armchair, panting from carrying her, arching and massaging his back.
Alexandra reacted with a reproachful frown.
"I'm certainly not that heavy, Mr Snape", she said with mocking indignation.
He only shot her a withering look and turned his attention towards her shoes.
Alexandra held her breath when he pulled off the one on her injured foot, but he acted so gently that the sharp pain she had expected did not come. Her ankle turned out to be swollen and blue. He examined it carefully, feeling the swelling with competent fingers, carefully moving the foot in all directions. In the end he let out a sigh of relief. "I don't think it's broken, which is good, because my healing abilities are very basic. But I can handle sprains and bruises."
He studied her thoughtfully, making her uncomfortably aware of her tear-stained, dirty face.
"Would you like a wash while I fetch everything?"
She nodded gratefully. He picked her up again and carried her to the bathroom, opened the door and moved his wand around.
"It works with magic", he explained. "Now you can use the taps and there will be hot water. Towels are in the cupboard. Can you manage?"
This made it her turn to use the withering look.
He grinned ironically.
"Right. Call me when you're finished."
With this he closed the door and left her alone. Alexandra looked into the small mirror and groaned. Her face was blotchy and smeared with dirt and blood, her hair a tangled mess. Balancing on one foot she took off her torn trousers and started to wash her hands and her face, then carefully removed the dirt and dried blood from her knees. Finally she ran her fingers through her hair. Looking into the mirror again, she sighed and shrugged. Certainly not fit for a beauty contest, but better than before. She opened the door and called his name.
Snape came at once, carried her back to the armchair and lifted her injured foot on another chair in front of her. Then he opened a large glass jar and applied some greenish salve to the swollen ankle, covered it with a white cloth and bandaged it to keep everything in place. Immediately the pain lessened. He smiled at her sigh of relief, selecting another, smaller jar and after dabbing some yellow salve on the wounds on her knees and her hand, bandaged them as well.
"These will have healed by tomorrow", he said, gathering his jars and bandages, "the foot is going to take a day or two longer if you keep it rested."
She sat bold upright, clasping the armrests of the chair. "But –".
He raised an enquiring eyebrow. "Yes, Ms Moody?"
"I must go back to my hotel, I must be able to walk!" she exclaimed vehemently.
He shrugged. "I'm afraid that's not possible. A healer could do it, of course, but as there is no healer around, we have to make do with my remedies. You'll have to stay here for a day or two, I'm afraid. Are you hungry?"
Hungry? The question made her aware of the mouth-watering smell of food in the room and she forgot about her ambulatory problems for a moment. Her stomach rumbled and he had his answer.
"Five minutes", he announced and went to the kitchen area. Alexandra tried to calm down and order her thoughts. So she would have to stay here – in his house, with him! She didn't want this, he didn't want this – these were bright prospects for the following days! She looked around, taking in her surroundings for the first time. There was very little furniture in the room, just the table, two chairs, the kitchen cupboard and the threadbare armchair next to a bookshelf and a small coffee-table. The walls were whitewashed and bare, yet it looked comfortable and very much like home in the light of the numerous candles he had lit.
Snape returned to her with a tray containing a plate of vegetable soup and some bread and a glass of red wine.
"I wasn't expecting visitors, so this is all I can offer you," he said curtly. "Leftovers from yesterday actually."
He put down the tray on her lap, then seated himself with his own plate at the kitchen table. He raised his glass, "To our meeting again, Ms Moody", he said with a small smile.
She glared at him. "Stop being sarcastic."
His mouth twitched. "I'm not. Actually, I've had a very pleasant afternoon indeed," he replied quietly.
She stared at him in surprise. "Really?" and after an embarrassed pause added, "eh, absolutely, yes, so had I."
They kept looking at each other for a while, until Snape broke the contact.
"The soup is getting cold."
He started eating. Alexandra followed his example, she was ravenous and the soup was really good. She finished the plate without speaking and gratefully accepted a second helping.
"How did you end up here in this cottage?" she asked after mopping up the last drops of soup with the bread.
He told her that he had come across the house during a potions conference in Carcassonne years ago and had liked it so much that he had bought it right away. It had been practically a ruin and therefore cheap. He had not found time to begin restoration then, and when he had returned after his release, the first months had been very hard: He had been camping inside the walls under the leaking roof with his few possessions brought over from England, repairing the roof and then the small outbuildings, setting up a lab where he could work on the potions and salves he sold for an income. It had taken nearly all of the two years to complete the repairs.
"Did you do it all alone?" Alexandra asked curiously, playing with the stem of her wine glass.
"Yes, I did. I learned quite a bit about building in Azkaban."
Smiling wryly, he went on: "I wanted to be alone, I've never been much of a social man."
He offered her more wine and when she declined poured himself another glass.
"What about the lady at the monastery?"
He chuckled. "Oh yes, well, you could call her a friend, I suppose. I go there often and they sell my products. There's a lot to learn about the fascinating historical magic of these mountains and as she is an amateur historian and knows everything about this region, we've had many interesting talks. As for other contacts - I am acquainted with some people, of course, shop-owners mostly. But that's all. I prefer being on my own."
He lifted the glass and watched the red liquid intensely.
"You can't imagine what freedom and independence mean to me after all those years in Dumbledore's and Voldemort's service, after all those years in prison."
His eyes, still fixed on the glass, had a far-away look.
Alexandra studied him thoughtfully. All at once he seemed drawn and tired, as if the memories were hard to bear.
"But local people know where you live, don't they?"
"Yes, they do," he admitted slowly, "theoretically, that is. But due to a spell I always use they can't tell others, as you've learned during your inquiries. The house is charmed, most people can't see it. And I put up strong wards, of course. They alerted me of your presence today." So much effort just to protect his solitude, Alexandra thought, still watching him. Outwardly there was nothing left of the miserable prisoner she had known, but somehow she felt that he had not overcome his torturous past.
"What is it?" he demanded.
Alexandra came out of her reverie with a start. "Oh, nothing", she muttered, averting her eyes quickly, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks.
Snape got up and busied himself clearing away the dirty dishes and soaking them in the sink. He was confused by this afternoon's events, torn between his desire to remain hidden from the wizarding world and his affection for Alexandra Moody which today had welled up again during their short time together. He felt totally clueless as to further procedure. There she was, right in the middle of his living-room, stuck with him for the next days. Against all odds she had found him, and what was more surprising, she had bothered to look for him in the first place. And that after he had done everything to cover up his tracks, to leave England and everyone who had known him there behind. He had wanted a completely new start in new surroundings, where nobody knew about the Death Eater and the prisoner Severus Snape. And he had tried ever so hard to forget Alexandra Moody and the mysterious attraction she held for him. He had attempted to convince himself that solitude was all he wanted, had repeated to himself over and over again that the only feeling this woman could have for him was pity and that her interest in him was the purely professional one of the journalist. Dumbledore, who still made himself heard via the mirror, had kept telling him what a fool he was…Dumbledore! Snape scrubbed the bottom of the pot with unnecessary violence. He was sure the old headmaster was somehow responsible for this afternoon's events, had created this mess and was enjoying himself immensely watching them dealing with it. What a nuisance this meddlesome old fool was even in death!
Finally there were no dishes left for washing and he realized he would have to face his guest again. He turned and saw that she was asleep in his armchair. Sleep – well, there was another problem. He only had one bed. And his body was getting too old for the sleeping bag and the floor. Snape cursed under his breath and went over to the armchair. He took away the tray and was about to shake her awake, but something made him stop in mid-movement. She looked so peaceful, her features relaxed, her short hair tousled, her bandaged hand limp in her lap. He couldn't help watching her, as he had in fact been watching her surreptitiously all afternoon: Her attentive, eager face when she had listened to his lectures about the masonry, her profile against the background of the sky and the green mountains up on the balcony. Strangely enough he really had enjoyed her company, something he would never have thought possible.
And while he was standing there, hardly daring to breathe for fear of breaking the spell and waking her up, he felt his throat tighten, he shuddered and somewhere inside him a wall crumbled and realization hit him like a bomb. Merlin's holy beard, he loved her, had done so from the moment they'd met in Azkaban. He had known it all along in his subconscious mind, but had been afraid to admit it to himself. He loved her …
Stop it! He scolded himself. This was hopeless, a one-sided affair, she would never love him back, women never did.
He kept standing there, lost in thought, when she stirred and opened her eyes. She stretched her arms and grinned apologetically. "Sorry, I fell asleep. It's been a long day and I'm not used to drinking wine."
"Would you like to go to bed?" he asked, wondering if she would notice how strange and constricted his voice sounded.
"Well, yes, I suppose," she relied, politely stifling a yawn, "have you got a spare one?"
"No, you can take mine," he replied curtly.
"And what about you?"
He shrugged. "Never mind."
"Yes, right, well, thank you for your hospitality." She tried to hide her embarrassment. "I know I'm a nuisance and I promise to get well as soon as possible so that you can get rid of me."
He grunted.
"Bathroom first?" he asked.
"Bathroom first, please."
Gently he picked her up and carried her to the bathroom door. "Wait a minute," he said and set her down. He went into his bedroom and returned with a white t-shirt.
"You can wear this for the night."
"Oh, thank you."
The way she looked at him before she closed the door showed that she had not expected him capable of such thoughtfulness.
Snape sat down in the armchair and tried to read the latest potions magazine. But he was unable to concentrate. Instead of following the instructions for brewing a complicated cure for hay-fever, he was listening to the noises coming from the bathroom, turning the same questions over and over again in his mind, wondering hopelessly how to survive the following days. Never before had he felt like this for a woman. It was ridiculous: There he was, Death Eater, Master Spy, Potions Expert, he had faced torture and death fearlessly, had withstood the Dark Lord's sadistic whims,– but now he was trembling with apprehension when he thought of the woman in his bathroom. Why had she followed him, why was she interested in him? Could it be more than pity? She had seen him at the lowest point in his life, could she really love him?
He was still far from a plausible solution when she called his name. With a frustrated sigh he went over to the bathroom, where she was standing in the open door, clad in his t-shirt and bandages, clutching the door-post for support. Again he picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. There he set her down next to the bed. For a moment they remained standing there, very close to each other, feeling each other's warmth, their eyes locked in close contact. Suddenly he felt a shy hand on his chest, a soft, tentative, warm touch, barely noticeable through the thin fabric of the shirt. But this touch was enough to pull down another wall of his fortifications and give her access to his heart.. Unable to restrain himself any longer, he wrapped her into his arms with a low moan, holding her very gently, as if she was something fragile, nervously waiting for a reaction. Would she push him away? Scream with terror? He held his breath.
And then there were her hands on his back, pressing him to her, holding him very close.
"Severus," she said softly, putting so much affection in his name that it made him shudder.
"I don't want to get rid of you," he said in hardly more than a whisper, while at the same time his rational part told him to shut up and let her go, to stop making a fool of himself.
"Sorry?"
"I said, I don't want to get rid of you. Alexandra, I think –"
He took a deep breath. "I think I – I love you."
There, he had pronounced it. What would she do now? At least in her present state she was unable to run from the room screaming.
"You have a funny way of showing it," Alexandra said dryly, looking up at him, shaking her head. "You very nearly managed to drive me away this afternoon in your garden".
"I'm sorry," he answered, "It's a habit I find very hard to get rid off."
She looked at him enquiringly.
"Hurting people to keep them at a distance," he explained with a wry smile, "hurting people in order not to be hurt by them."
Slowly she put her arms around him again, resting her head on his shoulder. He drew her close.
"Are you sure, Alexandra?" he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.
"Yes, Severus, quite sure."
"Are you sure, this isn't only a morbid fascination with the criminal, with the outcast?"
"Quite sure."
"Pity for the antisocial loner?"
"Severus, stop it."
"Too much French wine impairing your mental capacities?"
"My mental capacities are fully functioning and are telling me that I love you."
"Why?"
"I don't know, I can't give you a reason, it's not rational. But it has always been there, right from our first meeting. As they say: Love at first sight."
"And a pretty sight I must have been," he remarked bitterly.
"You were a grim sight indeed, but I liked you all the same," she replied simply and hugged him still closer.
They remained in the embrace for a long time, then Severus remembered her injuries, released her gently and stepped back.
"You are tired, you need rest," he said.
"What about you?" she demanded.
"I'm going to fetch my sleeping bag and sleep on the floor," he answered.
"No, you're not," she replied, casting an appraising look at the bed. "Isn't this what they call a 'grand lie' over here? There's enough room for both of us. I mean, if you don't mind sharing your bed with someone wearing nearly as many bandages as a mummy."
"You're injured, you need your rest," he insisted stubbornly.
She looked at him gravely. "I need you, Severus."
He stared at her incredulously for a moment, breathing very hard, at a loss for words. In the end he just nodded. He went to the bathroom and when he returned in his nightshirt, he climbed into the bed next to her.
Thanks to J.K.Rowling for inventing the wonderful characters.