A/N: Alright, well finally we have a little bit of a problem building that should lead to an eventual climax in this story! Haha. Here it is, chapter six. When I wrote this one, I had the whole thing planned out in my head, so I kinda just went with whatever came to mind, so I couldn't really separate between Morgana and Snape's p.o.v.'s. So hopefully they're clear enough that you can figure them out! As always, R&R! Thanks so much to the recent reviews from shawnalou!

CHAPTER 6: HISTORY REVEALED

Snape's chambers, although warmer than the dreary dungeon thirteen, were not at all 'warm'. The Potion's Master kept his rooms at a temperature that allowed for constant goosebumps and had anyone who entered make a beeline for the dark green sofa in front of the fire.

Morgana had settled herself at one end of the couch, trying to relax but finding it increasingly difficult as she listened to the slow pace of Snape's boots along the stone floor. She wished he would sit down so she could explain herself fully, in the quickest way possible. She leaned back and waited impatiently.

As he approached the couch, she felt his fingertips run gently across the back rest and ever so lightly graze the back of her neck. She breathed in deep; she knew his games and was not going to be sucked into one right now.

Later, perhaps.

"Now, Miss Cimmerii, what –"

"Please, stop calling me that, Severus. We've known each other long enough for you to be able to call me by my name," Morgana interrupted.

Snape's lips curled into a grin and he ignored the comment, continuing, "What was it you wanted to share with me?" He took a seat at the opposite end of the couch, leaning against the arm rest with a look of boredom etched on his face.

Morgana paid little attention to his expression. "My father," she started, "Alistair Cimmerii, he worked for…for Lord Voldemort."

Snape's eyes widened slightly, but he quickly covered his emotions with a stoic mask. "And?"

The young vampire sighed. "He would be gone for days at a time, my mother would have no idea where he went or when he would return. She became depressed; he was the only cure for it. Every time he returned, they would go to their rooms for the night, and the next morning she would emerge with dozens of scars on her neck and chest. It didn't matter how much make-up she wore to hide them, I could always see them. I could always see how she needed that pain to remember how much she was 'loved' by him." Morgana closed her eyes, pushing the violent images of memories past trying to emerge.

She took a breath and continued. "I found out he was working for the Dark Lord in my seventh year. He had been asking me non-stop about the school, about any secret passageways I might know of. I thought it best to go directly to the headmaster and tell him."

"I'm sure that did a lot of good," Snape mumbled, feigning little interest when his body language suggested he was raptly attentive.

"In fact, it did," Morgana retorted. "He was planning on finding his way into the school that very night and killing a few of the students as a threat to Dumbledore. The headmaster put the wards up at their maximum security, and he wasn't able to enter."

"Of course, you had told him the passageways in, correct?" Snape asked, leaning over slightly and inching closer to Morgana.

"No, never!" she exclaimed. "He asked someone else. Either way, my father figured out who had told the headmaster. He…" Her voice faded and any light from her eyes faded as she stared into the fire.

"He what, Morgana?" Snape asked, concerned. He then watched, stuck in a rut of confusion and conflicting emotions as tears welled up in the woman's eyes. Only one fell, and it slid gracefully down her pale cheek. Without thinking Snape raised his hand and wiped it from her face.

Morgana turned her head to face him, and shouted, "He killed her! As a warning to me never to betray him again! He killed my mother!" She buried her face in her hands. "He murdered her and disowned me. And then he told Voldemort what I had done. He's been watching me ever since his return to power, which is why I came here." She lifted her head and sighed again, willing the tears to go away. "Lord Voldemort will kill me if I screw up again."

Snape watched from the sofa as Morgana rose and stood in front of the fire, resting a delicate hand on the mantle. The light played beautifully off her pale skin and green dress, and he found himself moving to stand next to her, fighting the urge to hold her.

"Eventually she resorted to magic, my mother," Morgana whispered, "to cover the scars. It used up so much of her energy. Sometimes she had to be taken to St. Mungo's for a blood replenishing potion, she would lose so much. She sacrificed everything for him…and he was her undoing."

She looked at Snape, whose penetrating onyx eyes were staring intently at her. Her own dark eyes welled with tears again as she said, "Which is why I'm so afraid of you, Severus."

His emotions betrayed him as a look of utter shock swept over Snape's face. "Why would you ever think I could do such a thing?" he hissed, taking a step back.

Morgana took his hands in her own. "Afraid of you because of what you're doing to me now, Severus. You saw what happened in the tower! When I'm with you, I can't think straight…my mother was the perfect example of how vampire love can turn horribly sour." She looked at their joined hands, not willing to look back at his face.

"But you're only half vampire, Morgana. You can control it," Snape whispered, slipping a hand out of her grasp to tilt her head upwards. "I'm willing to risk it."

Morgana smiled. "Why?" she asked.

He drew her face close and brought his lips to hers as he pulled her body close. He hadn't felt so drawn to a woman since…well, he didn't want to remember the last time, for it ended with his life in disarray. Morgana was here, now, and he wouldn't lose her.

She broke away from him and tried to whisper, "Severus, I –"

He silenced her with another kiss. "I know," he said quietly, and stared longingly at her. He noticed the bags under her eyes and the lull that had slowly begun to pull her eyelids shut. "But for now, sleep," he said, and led her to his bedchamber.

Drowsiness or not, Morgana could not help but gasp at the simple yet beautiful décor that filled the room. Hanging on one of the stone walls was a tapestry of the Slytherin crest, the silver thread still glimmering as if it had been made yesterday. Black wooden bookcases lined the room, filled with books no doubt containing some very dark magic. A wooden bureau sat next to the doorway to the bathroom, and a large four-poster was placed at the other end, the black and silver hangings tied to the posts. A dark green quilt covered the mattress, with serpentine patterns slithering their way across the fabric.

When she was settled underneath the blankets, Snape stared momentarily at her, and tried to burn that moment into his mind. How peaceful she looked when she was sleeping. If what she told him was true, then there would be very little peace left in her life, at least until the Dark Lord was destroyed.

With one last glance, he drew the hangings around her and made his way back to his office, loosening his collar as he went. He had too many papers to grade to waste time sleeping.